#sorry to anyone worrying about the radio silence from me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cupid-styles · 2 months

Note

omg bestieeeee i so need hocker h nd ballerina to talk and smooch !!!!! ngl i’m a sucker for protective and jealous h 🤭🤭🤭🤭 🐱

I feel like ive made you guys wait way too long for this one gvkdfjgkf

a continuation of this blurb! (and sort of this one)

word count: 2.3k (we had a lot of ground to cover)

content warnings: minor mentions of smut, slight angst but all is fixed by the end, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | hockey h masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Two weeks.

Two weeks of radio silence from Y/N.

Two weeks of over-thinking everything he did that night.

Two weeks of Harry drunk texting her on lonely nights.

please just tell me if you hate me

im so sorry

ill leave you alone if its what you want, I just need to know

Each and every time, Y/N read his messages, eyes scanning over the words, and locked her phone.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she wants from him, if anything. She doesn't know why she felt so attracted to him that night — she was tipsy, not drunk, and in complete control of her actions. She never hooked up with people in public — no messy makeouts, but she certainly never let anyone finger her in the hallway of a bar.

The entire thing was completely unlike her. Maybe that's what scared her the most.

Deep down, she wanted to reply to him, but she didn't even know what to say. She didn't want him to leave her alone — maybe that was selfish, but she liked knowing he was at least a little okay. She'd even been keeping secret tabs on the hockey team. They had won their past two games, but Harry had been thrown out in the most recent one for unsportsmanlike conduct. Apparently, he'd gotten into a fight with one of the players on the other team.

Admittedly, that worried her, but she didn't want to be his babysitter. On top of that, the spring showcase was this weekend, and she'd thrown every last bit of her energy into rehearsing and practicing to make sure her performance would be absolutely flawless.

She didn't have the time — or mental capacity — to worry about Harry right now.

. . .

"You look like an idiot."

Harry rolls his eyes as he adjusts the collar on his button down for the third time. James and his girlfriend Melanie had helped him with ironing it out so it looked presentable enough on his body. Anything he ever did rarely called for slacks and button up shirts, but Melanie advised him to look polished and put-together for tonight.

He wasn't in a place to reject her advice.

The other teammates that James lived with weren't quite as kind. Stephen, a sophomore defenseman who was only on the team for the perks of sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, wouldn't stop throwing sarcastic comments Harry's way.

"Shut up, Stephen!" Melanie calls from the living room. She marches into James' bedroom as Harry smoothes out a few leftover wrinkles in his slacks, swallowing tightly. "When's the last time you cared about something besides fucking random girls? At least Harry has some direction in his life."

"I'm just saying, the girl's been ignoring him for weeks. She's gonna laugh in his face."

"Leave!" Melanie exclaims, batting him on the shoulder. Stephen lets out a yelp of pain and Harry smirks, despite the anxiety throbbing in his chest. "You're not helping! Get out!"

Reluctantly, Stephen rolls his eyes as he follows Melanie's orders and leaves the room. She sighs and comes up from behind Harry before flashing him a hopeful grin.

"You look great, H. I think this is a really sweet gesture."

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he turns to face her. "Okay, but what if Stephen's dumbass is right? She could call security on me and have me removed."

Melanie gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a possibility. But isn't it better to go down fighting?"

He shrugs.

"You said ballet is her everything. It's her entire life. Show her that you're willing to integrate yourself into that."

"Yeah," he breathes out, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am." she grins. "Okay, let's get you over there. Don't forget the flowers you picked up!"

. . .

30 minutes later, Harry can't stop shifting uncomfortably as he sits in an aisle seat in the campus auditorium at Y/N's spring showcase.

The massive bouquet of flowers in his lap keep making his nose run and he feels like he's being suffocated by the buttons on his shirt that go all the way up to his neck. Best of all, according to the show program, Y/N isn't scheduled to go on until the very end. She mentioned to him once that being placed as the finale act is the best and biggest compliment, and he can't fight the bit of pride that thrums in his heart.

For an hour, he sits there, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he waits for Y/N to go on. He sits through mediocre singing showcases and even a violin solo that almost puts him to sleep, if not for the older man clearing his throat next to him. Melanie and James even text him during the intermission to see how it's going, but he doesn't have much to report back.

Finally, the show comes to a close and her name is announced, following by the title of the French piece of music she's dancing to. His heart throbs in his chest — he's so nervous for her, especially knowing she hurt her ankle just a few weeks back. But the second she graces the stage, she's a vision of beauty, strength, and delicacy all at the same time. It's enough to take Harry's breath away.

As he sits there watching her, he doesn't move a muscle. Not for a single jump, spin, or step. He doesn't know anything about ballet — not aside from what Y/N has told him — but in that moment, he realizes that he'd be willing to learn every little thing there is to know if it meant she let him back into her life.

She's gorgeous. She offers a flawless performance and the second she's finished, a look of relief washes over her face as she takes a subdued bow, her pretty eyes widening when she sees all the people — Harry included — standing and applauding her.

For Y/N, the hard part was over. For Harry, it had just begun.

. . .

Y/N is elated to have a moment of silence after her performance.

With the dressing room door shut behind her, she lets out a long, deep breath. The dance she'd been driving herself crazy over for months was finally over.

And yet, for some reason, she feels empty.

She shoves it down as sits, eager to get her pointe shoes off. She's ready to shed her costume and get into sweatpants and head home. She knows the rest of the performers are heading out to a party tonight, but she's exhausted.

She's sorting through the bag of clothes she brought when there's a soft knock at the door. She knows she only has around 20 minutes to get out before the janitorial staff starts cleaning, so she rises with a sigh, unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'll be done soon, I just need to change—"

It's not the janitor, though.

It's Harry. Standing there stiffly in a starchy button down with a huge bouquet of flowers that almost encompass the width of his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts without thinking.

"I came to watch you perform," he replies gently. His throat bobs as he hands her the flowers. "These are for you."

"You didn't watch me." she snorts with a shake of her head. She hasn't accepted the bouquet yet.

"Yes, I did," he instantly fires back, "What, do you wanna see my ticket for proof? I was in seat F34, next to an old man who kind of smelled like soup, and he kept clearing his throat and it was really annoying but I didn't care because I came to see you, and I'd sit through hours of bullshit to watch you dance."

Harry can't read the blank expression of her face, but he takes it as a step in the right direction when she takes the flowers from him. She blinks as she glances past him and then steps aside, motioning for him to come in.

"I have to get my shit together and leave soon, so... just sit in here."

He nods. He's hesitant to allow himself to relax since he's not sure if he's in the clear yet. She closes the dressing room door behind her and places the bouquet on her vanity.

"I need to change," she says, spinning around to face him. "Close your eyes."

He chuckles until he sees the serious expression on her face. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

"But... I— y'know—"

"Just turn the fuck around, Harry."

He does as he's told, shutting his eyes as he listens to her roll her tights down and step out of her leotard. One day, if she let him, he'd be more than happy to do that for her — not even in a sexual way, but he knows how tiring it can be to take off his own gear after a long game. He thinks it would be nice to be there for her.

"Okay, you're good," she murmurs. She's stuffing her things in her tote bag when he bats his eyes back open.

"Are you meeting up with anyone after this? I'm sure your friends came to see you, but I just wanted to maybe talk and... y'know, clear the air a bit." Harry says, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. Y/N furrows a brow as she analyzes his body language. She doesn't think she's actually seen him look anxious before.

"Um... no," she says with a shake of her head before quickly revising her answer, "No, I mean, I'm not meeting up with anyone and no one came to see me. Except you, I guess."

"Wait, really?"

She sighs as she pauses the process of gathering her things. "Really, Harry."

He swallows tightly. They're silent for a moment as she grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

"Come over and we'll talk. I borrowed my friend Matt's car for the night but— yeah, you can follow me to my place or whatever. And I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer but I think clearing the air could be... good."

A rush of relief makes its way through Harry's body.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do that."

. . .

"I never said it, but you were flawless tonight."

Y/N laughs breathily as she settles onto her couch, a cup of sleepy time tea in her hand. Harry rejected her offer for one (his response had been, "Y/N, do I look like someone who drinks tea with a sleeping bear on it?") but he'd be lying if he said it didn't at least smell good.

"I fucked up on one of my jetés — I'll get yelled at for it on Monday, but otherwise I'm decently content with the performance."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Harry replies, "Seriously. You were perfect."

Her cheeks warm and she stares down at her tea. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her while Harry sits on the other edge of the couch, giving her plenty of room to stretch out.

"So... clearing the air."

Harry clears his throat and nods, prepared to embark on the speech he'd been practicing in his head for weeks. But then, she speaks.

"I'm sorry for running out on you and ignoring you," she says, keeping her gaze down in her lap. "That wasn't... I'm not the best person. I'm bad at feelings and I use ballet as a crutch. I figure it's the one thing I'm really, exceptionally good at, and that should give me a pass in life but I know that's not true. I can't just go around treating people like shit because I'm... scared."

"What are you scared of?" Harry asks through furrowed brows. "I'm sorry if I stepped out of line that night, I should've been better—"

"You didn't. You were great. You did everything perfectly," she replies with a shake of her head. Her response surprises him, but he tries to hide the shock on his face. "I'm scared because you're you. You're a hotshot hockey player and, besides this showcase, you're the only other thing I've thought about these past few weeks. That's horrifying for me."

"Is this...?" Harry attempts to roll his lips into a thin line, preventing a smirk from bursting onto his face. "Is this a very Y/N way of telling me that you like me?"

She groans, as if it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, and it makes Harry laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaims. That only makes Harry cackle even louder as he slowly crawls over to her, taking her warm cup of tea out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table.

"You're cute when you're exasperated." he murmurs. She pouts and his eyes crinkle with a grin as he peels her shaky hands away from her face.

"You're the one exasperating me."

"I know," he replies lowly, licking his lips as his face hovers over hers, "I like it."

"This isn't us agreeing to date, by the way." she quickly tacks on. He issues out a mhm as he leans forward, testing the waters, and pressing a light kiss to her nose. "We need to take it slow. Like, painfully slow. Or else I'll freak out and run away again."

"Whatever you want." he mumbles, kissing her right cheek. "I mean it."

"And you can't just overwhelm me whenever you feel like it."

He laughs and kisses her left cheek, then her forehead.

"Okay. Any other demands?"

He stops pasting kisses to her face then, instead choosing to simply loom his lips over hers. He can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and watches as she swallows nervously.

"No," she finally whispers. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

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saintslewis · 3 days

Text

❝ 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; Nadia

summary: a lil workplace visit can’t be that bad, right?

warnings: cussing, links to pinterest. a lil short, sorry!

saint’s team radio 🎀: hiiiii there. thank you for all the love on virgo’s groove, i truly love each and everyone of you! hope you enjoy this, babies!

pls like, comment and reblog!

dividers from @cafekitsune

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

renaissance: the series masterlist 🪩

Lewis had missed his wife, terribly so.

Often being reminded by most, that his companion was not next to him as much as she was the last two weeks. He never tired talking about her in any sense and to anyone who would listen. By now, she would’ve spoken about her students or a joke that her friends used to tell as she attended university many years ago. Possibly a song she was thinking about or a candy she tried from the hotel in Miami.

He had missed the bright smile she often displayed at anyone who was open to receiving it or whenever she spoke of her new friends. Lewis had realised she had quite the loud laugh, contradicting her quiet voice, and how she would laugh at his jokes, a quiet wheeze at first then a boisterous laugh following right after. He had also missed how she would slip into one of her many home languages whenever she spoke and how she would derail the conversation to explain every little thing in that specific language.

Surprisingly so, he liked seeing that she was spending his money, even after trying to convince her that it was totally okay. Lewis also liked how she would send little updates on her day just as he did as well, talking about how she’s constantly stopped in the streets for pictures and how shocked she always was that people recognised her.

He also liked the rambles she had whenever they got the chance to facetime. Making her blush at his words was always a sight to see and how she would try do it back but her giggles held her back.

Lewis missed Nadia. A lot.

Sitting in his hotel room in Barcelona, he stared at the suitcases that were waiting right by the door. He checked his carry on once again to check that the little gifts he got her were okay. The specific hoodie he was wearing still had faint scents of her perfume, making Lewis feel giddy to get home. Months ago, he would’ve always said that the world is his home but ever since he met Nadia, he could feel his smile get larger as his thoughts go on.

Managing to get a podium, just as he promised her, he remembered her excitement and astonishment when he explained how many he actually had. She went on to tell him that she’ll make celebratory baked goods for whenever he gets back. Lewis knew that he was distracted when he attended a dinner with some friends after the race, his phone couldn’t be separated from his hands. All that was on his mind was seeing her.

“I know we initially removed the second question from the assignment but the board brought it forward that it needs to be done.” As soon as Nadia finished her sentence, her year 12 students groaned loudly.

“It didn’t make sense to me either but because you’re my kiddies, I’ll research when I get home and just get a memo so you don’t have to worry. Even if you all write the same thing, it’s okay.” She assured, walking to her desk after handing out the ‘new’ assignment papers.

“Uh, Ms Brown. You said this can be typed out, right?” A hand that was raised asked. Before the teacher could answer, someone interjected.

“It’s Mrs Hamilton, Tash.” That made a few students laugh. Nadia would never get used to hearing herself being referred to that. Every time she even woke up in that house, it was unbelievable.

With a little chuckle, she put her pen down. “Thank you, Kim. But yes, it needs to be typed out and don’t forget to make a cover, everyone.” Picking up her pen once again, Nadia went on to work on the question that troubled the whole class.

Silence fell and all that was heard was faint music coming from some kid’s headphones as they worked on their assignment or their homework, Nadia never had an issue if they needed to complete other tasks from their other classes.

Glancing at the clock on her desk, there were at least two hours of school left but luckily, she only had a few classes that day and was able to go home early. An empty large mansion but it was home. Craving the vanilla macrons she made yesterday, Nadia was more than excited to get home.

It was also the day that she expected her husband back home from Spain. Mondays usually went slower than the usual but she pushed her excitement to the back of her head as she continued to work. There was still some time left with her favourite class so she relaxed in her seat.

Nadia’s phone kept buzzing with text messages as she typed away on her laptop, sending an apologetic look to the students who’s heads whipped at the distracting sounds. Picking it up, all she saw was messages from Maggie, the school office admin, sending through messages that basically implied that she was shaking, she was excited and constantly repeated ‘girllllll’.

The class was now interested in whatever was going on because Nadia’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was nothing she was aware of unless the principal wanted to talk to her about something but that was even more confusing.

A knock echoed through the classroom and she gave the student closest to the door a signal to open it and he froze at the door, seemingly starstruck. All the kids then leaned outside their desks to see and they began screaming in excitement at whoever was at the door. The figure walked in the door and Nadia’s stomach dropped at the sight.

“Oh my days, Lewis Hamilton is in my class!”

After eventually calming down the class who were still shocked and buzzing at the fact that Lewis was there, he offered to take pictures with everyone and even brought them doughnuts that he had left outside the class in hopes to surprise them. He locked eyes with his wife and made his way to her, signalling to the kids that he’d be right back to take pictures.

Nadia threw her arms around his waist as soon as Lewis was close enough, he kissed through her wig then her forehead, completely aware that the kids were watching and recording. “I don’t wanna get fired, Lew.” Nadia spoke, facing away from her students.

“I had a word with the principal, you’re good.” He reassured, patting her back. Winking at her as he went back to the excited kids, she felt the butterflies in her stomach. She also realised how spontaneous he was because he really just showed up to her work like he forgot who he was.

Getting home was a bit of a challenge, the rest of the school caught wind of his appearance and that was a mission in itself. To Nadia’s luck, school was still in session and she could get home early with her husband by her side. The deal was that Lewis would come speak to the kids one day in exchange for his spontaneity.

Climbing out of the Range Rover that she drove herself to school in, Lewis held her hand to the front door where his suitcases were waiting to be let in. It felt all so domestic like they’ve done this a thousand times before, taking off their shoes right by the door and she immediately slipped into her slides. The home smelt like a mixture of her sweet perfume, cookies and the ocean scented incense she bought for the house.

“Welcome home!” Nads turned around after dropping all her things on the kitchen island to throw her arms around his neck for the physical touch they had been waiting for. They melted into the hug, faces digging into each other’s necks, engulfing each other with their warmth. The two stood there for what seemed like an eternity before letting go eventually. “That felt good, wow.” Lewis said, his eyes taking in every part of her face.

He had missed her so much.

“Right? It felt like a month apart. How are you feeling? Spain was something else.” Nadia smiled, still unable to look at him in his eyes. Before he could answer, he knew he couldn’t just outright say anything to her yet. Lewis couldn’t tell her that he’s falling for her so quickly, so much so that he wanted to shout it out to the world. He did that already, the world just doesn’t know that all of this isn’t real.

“I’ve been alright, just wanted to come back home and relax. Getting that podium though,” Lewis breathed out. “Please, you made it look flawless.” Nadia interrupted, with a ‘duh’ expression on her face. He couldn’t help but genuinely smile at that.

She walked further into the kitchen and he followed after her like a puppy, waiting for her to do anything. “I made you vegan vanilla macrons for your podium and my non-vegan ones are in a different lunch box.” Nadia tapped the lunch box labelled ‘vegan’ with her freshly done nails then placed it on the kitchen counter.

“Ohh shit, I forgot I got you something else as well!”

Nadia ran up towards the stairs, spewing out the words as Lewis watched her with a smile on his face, leaning his head on his hand. Deciding to make himself comfortable in the living room, he waited for her.

Quick steps of her sandals echoing throughout the main floor, she came through with a medium sized box in hand, a proud smile on her face as she plopped herself right next to him on the couch. “So. You know how I said that I love sourcing for archives in fashion or the latest pieces that are just tough to find?” Nadia started.

“Yeah…..” Lewis responded with a slight lift of his eyebrow.

“This is a gift I want to give to you since you did so good in Spain but I got it like days before the podium so I had to pray that you did good.” She added, unable to contain her smile as she handed the box to him. Sitting down quite close to each other, she watched as Lewis carefully ripped the gift wrap.

He was smiling before he fully opened his gift. “I can feel you just jumping’ in excitement.” Lewis said, his natural accent and voice coming into light. The same voice he used to when he felt right at home.

Eventually putting all the gift wrap to the side, he faced the box in curiosity, opening it and being prepared to see anything. “You’re joking.” Lewis said in shock, staring at Nadia who’s smile was brighter than the sun itself. “It was tough finding these but I do hope you like them, Lew.” She responded.

“These were made-“ “By Virgil, yep. I knew that you guys had a good friendship so when I came across these, they reminded me of you guys.” She informed and giggled at Lewis constantly looking back and forth at the shoes. The Nike x Louis Vuitton air force one was apart of a collection released in honour of Virgil Abloh, Lewis’ friend and Nadia’s inspiration in the fashion world.

Lewis couldn’t contain himself and stood up abruptly, pulling Nadia with him to wrap his arms around her and give her an even warmer hug. A bit shocked, Nadia quickly recovered and returned the same energy towards him. “Thank you, Nads, truly. Not just for the shoes but just…everything.”

“Anytime, pookie bear.” Nadia moved her head to look directly into his eyes, focusing on every crevice of her face. Looking down at her neck, he caught a glimpse of shining silver jewellery sitting pretty on her neck, only used to seeing gold pieces only.

“Is that 44 on your necklace?” He pointed it out, looking back and forth between her face and her jewellery. “Oh! Yeah, I wanted it to match my ring. The world is getting familiar with this face, might as well add to it.” Nadia said with a smug smile and Lewis had to collect himself but he realised he was right home.

Adding a little chuckle, he lowered his large hands from the middle of her back to her ass then her thighs, getting a yell out of her when she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Wanna get the neighbour familiar with you?” Lewis smirked, licking his lips at the same time.

“Let’s get right to it, Sir.” She responded, giggling as he started rushing to the bedroom, holding onto her tightly as they went up the stairs.

lewishamilton

lewishamilton a week filled with love and joy. canada, here we come ~

tagged: @/nadiahamilton

view all comments

nadiahamilton i look too good 🤭

lewishamilton you always do

nadiahamilton omg STAWWP 🥹

user dawg this is so unfair, you don’t get it

fencer my best friends 🥹

liked by lewishamilton

user mother and father

kehlani sleep with one eye open, mister

lewishamilton it’s sir

kehlani i’m still taking your wife, leprechaun 🫵🏽

user seeing you two in Canada!!

user this man is too gone, bridgerton level simp

user well duh, if you were with Nadia, you’d be too

lewishamilton this is true, she hung up the moon and the stars

user OOOOHHHHHH LEWISSSSSS 🙂‍↕️

chunks your home is so beautiful, thanks champ 🫡

user lewis is friends with the beta squad????

user they’re nadia’s friends

louisvuitton hope you loved your gift! 🤍

lewishamilton it was gifted by Nads so it was the best 🫶🏽

user you guys are so cute, it HURTS

canadagrandprix thee it couple

mercedesamgf1 has more stories about Nadia than the Spanish gp, we have to respect it

badgalriri got a problem? 🤨

user they got Riri clocking they asses 😭😭😭

nadiahamilton

nadiahamilton i’m the cooler one

view all comments

tyla you’re the coolest of them all 😝

nadiahamilton love you always!!

nellarose_ that french vanilla cake you made? signing you up for masterchef rn!

nadiahamilton girl pls 😭

user you guys remember when the wags called her tinkerbell? she literally is tinkerbell in real life 😭

user and she smells like money and sweet flowers ‼️

nataliatheedon come back to America rn

nadiahamilton canada’s the best i can do 😣

user i feel like a certain canadian rapper is gonna show up lol

user i’m from toronto and there’s a rumour that lewis’ people are blocking off that rapper from getting near nadia because he keeps reposting her pics lollllll

user no ways lewis actually has shooters???

user he’s Lewis, what did you expect? 😭

zendaya mother graced us with her presence once again

nadiahamilton love you Z 😚

louisvuitton 🤍🤍

sza hand in marriage?

lilymhe omg hiii, let’s redo monaco?

lewishamilton hi sweetheart

nadiahamilton hi my love

user PARENTS

saint’s notes 🪩: heyyyy babies! this is one is quite short lol but i hope you enjoyed! love u all 😚 also noticed the colour schemes for their insta posts? 🫡

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @thisismeracing @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @cocobutterqwueen @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @sunfairyy @vsfavs @louvrepool @mistruscity @tian-monique @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @gg-trini @lifeless-firefly @vellicora @takeoffz-tookoff9876 @serpenttines-library @emjayewrites @royallyprincesslilly @lewisroscoelove @purplelewlew @xoscar03 @kidsol-ar @nothaqks @tremendousstarlighttragedy @ggaslyp1

if your account is blank, that mean tumblr can’t find you!

#saint writes #renaissance: the series #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x reader #x black oc #f1 x oc #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagine

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coffeewithcocoa · 2 months

Note

Hi💕

Can I request male reader x Alastor were they are enemies by day and lovers by night? If you can thank you💕

:0 THIS ONE! THIS ONE RIGHT HERE IS BEAUTIFUL!

Playing Pretend

Alastor x Male Reader

Warnings: Fluff//Romantic Relationship//Female DNI

Sorry if it’s not perfect or too short😅

—————————————————————

You and Alastor hated each other. No, Correction. You guys pretended to hate each other. It’s not for the reason you think but it’s just because he wants to keep his, ‘big, bad, scary, overlord’ self. He’s actually a big fat softy when and behind closed doors.

He’s been like this since you’ve joined the hotel, as bad as that may seem when it’s clearly not. Like said before, behind closed doors this man’s a big fat softy. Giving you, hugs, kisses, cuddles and much more. The only time you guys fought was in the morning. Why?

It’s so that he wouldn’t show weakness to the blind sinners eyes. Alastor thinks they’re clueless and don’t deserve to see an overlords soft side. Plus he still has Vox to worry about. Showing a soft side around him would cause everyone In pentagram city to see him as a damn joke. So when you guys got into an established relationship he made you swear to only show him love at night, in private, when everyone’s asleep.

It worked for you perfectly though since you weren’t the one for touching anyone who doesn’t have a good bond with you. That’s kind of why Alastor fell for you in the first place. The moment he laid a finger on you when you were knew you almost blew his head off, almost.

You’ve changed, sure, but you still would do that if you didn’t crave or want touch in that moment. A subtle noise made you snap from your thoughts. The jazz noises that filled the room now being mixed in with your boyfriend’s return from working that night.

Charlie has been making him up and down with more and more ideas for the hotel, hoping that it would get more patrons. “Good evening, Cher.” He showed his true voice towards you. It was tired and craving a break.

“Evening.” You replied. Knowing he wants a break but he wouldn’t get one till he allows himself for one. You went back to what you were doing before he arrived in your room, reading. Silence came between you as the room was still filled with the jazz you’d left on. Your voice breaking the short silence, “Charlie I’m assuming?”

“As much as I care for the doll she’s just a little too talkative Cher.” Alastor answered with a small hum. His lovely grin, that covers his face everyday, faded as he moved further into the room. Your head turned, placing the book down to stand up. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” You asked going over to the radio that played the genre that your lover enjoyed when he was alive.

“Hm. Just your presence is fine.” The smile he had finally gained confidence again. Going back to its original bright self that everyone is familiar with. Alastor’s hand was focused on his dress coat. He may need it for when he was working or when it was morning but wearing such a thing around you felt weird. Yes he likes being neat and tiddy but he just wants a break.

Your foot steps being further away from him when he started and you being right in front of him when he finished made his gaze turn to you. A small smile placed into your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I hate waking up.” Alastor knew the answer to that and he on the same boat as you. “I know Cher. We do it because it’s to protect an innocent, handsome, sinner such as yourself.”

He has a way with words. And you hated it. Thats the only thing you really hated value him though. Everything else was something someone wanted really bad but he happened to fill up the categories perfectly! “I understand but why in front of all the others?” It was pretty obvious as to why the others didn’t know about the relationship going on between you too, but wouldn’t they be the first to know?

“Ha! They would be the last ones to know about such a thing Cher.” The speed that he can change moods scares you quite a bit. Even with it being as simple as him being tired to him enjoying the presence he brought to the room.

—————————————————————

Sorry that it’s quite short. I’ve been tired and busy and nothing exactly came into mind once I got to this point, hope you like it though!<333

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #x male reader #character x you #male reader #gay reader #alastor x gn!reader #asexual alastor #alastor x you #alastor x male reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin alastor

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trashy-tries-writing · 5 months

Note

I can just imagine Ravine healing himself like he’s in the far cry 2 and everybody just looking at him like “wtf???”

Like broken arm? Nah let me just readjust some bones and we’re good to go!

Sorry for the long wait but it's finally here! 😖 Okay I can see this happening 💀. Price is getting gray hairs because he never knows if Ravine is walking around with an injured bones or not. It's a charade for 141 to find out after the first time they saw him do it 😂. Thank you so much for this idea 🙂 Also to all precious Readers, anyone willing to help me understand the mw2 characters more? Like telling me what your opinion on what their dislikes and likes could be and maybe headcanons you guys have for them? I’m interested to learn/know :DD PS.: I apologize for any mistakes and wrong words I use, It’s been too long since I researched about MW2 and Military stuff 😅

Price has known Ravine for a few years now but the soldier still surprises him in ways that he would never imagine. When he believes he finally grasped the depth of the weapo- Ravine’s abilities, the man swoops in with something unpredictable that has the captain stare at him like he just told him Laswell is firing Price.

Well not after today that is. Now he welcomes situations that could only happen in dreams with open arms so he can spare himself some stress.

The mission was easier than some things they were ordered to do.

The objective was to seize the contents inside the briefcase, it didn’t matter if the briefcase was lost as long as they got their hands on what was inside it.

Ghost, Ravine, Gaz and Soap approached the enemy base on the mountains on foot as they ambushed them. However the opponent was one step ahead, hiding inside a hidden cave and fled with a jeep down the mountains, making a quick escape as the soldiers shot down the rest of the man.

Soap cursed, hoping to pop a tire with his gun but it was for naught as the bullets were caught by the many trees the vehicle passed through. Gaz let Price know that the objective is making pace down the mountain.

The captain’s voice echoed through one of their intercom radios.

“Ravine, time to fetch.”

They barely tilted their heads towards the mentioned male when they find Ravine darting past them at high speed. Their confusion flip into understanding as they have never seen him run before.

“The rest of you, make your way down and keep a lookout for strays hanging around.”

A few minutes later, they locate the jeep slammed sideways into a tree trunk making it almost fold in two. They quietly roam the area and quickly spot Ravine emerging from the back of the ruined car with a hand holding onto the case.

And that’s where they currently find themselves in when it happened.

“Ooohhh that looks bad, are you okay?” Gaz takes the briefcase from his hands, eyes worriedly staring at Ravine’s slightly bent arm with the bone poking out it.

“Aye.”

Without warning Ravine grabs his broken arm, pushing the bone back inside his flesh. A collective groan of pain and disgust echoed through the mountain from his action.

Soap lifts a hand and averts his gaze from the scene as Gaz holds the briefcase in front of his face. Ghost scrunches his face from underneath the mask as Price’s voice echoes through, questioning the sudden silence.

The were impressed, sure… but whAT THE FUCK?!?!!?

While they are trying to explain to Ravine that, for a matter of fact, it was NOT okay to push your own bone back into your arm and it shouldn’t have been his first response to the open wound. It was DEFINITELY NOT NORMAL either to use that said broken arm the minute he ‘fixed’ it.

I mean okay, they did find that kind of cool but they were seriously getting worried about him. His blood was running down his forearm, staining his clothes red and he’s standing there like it was a daily occurrence.

Ghost marches towards Ravine and pokes a harsh finger to his helmet with ‘Don’t try this shit again’ glare, making the tall man recoil his head from the push.

“Sit down you muppet and refrain from moving that arm around.”

On the other side inside Price’s office, the captain exhales loudly; it could be heard outside the room. “Of course he did that…” He’s aging so quickly that he’s hoping he won't wake up the next day with a full set of white hair.

He waits by the entrance, seeing the truck in the distance growing bigger each second. He pushes himself from leaving on the wall and sees Gaz, Soap and Ghost instinctively grab onto Ravine who seems to plan a visit to the doctor.

While Ghost’s pushing from the front, one hand locked with Ravin’s while the other pushed against his chest, Gaz and Soap are pulling and tugging the man towards the medical facility.

Price sighs and the soldier’s stop in their tracks when they find him standing beside them watching them try to wrestle Ravine into a checkup. The captain crosses his arms over his chest, his head tilted slightly and a silent conversation is shared between him and the giant of a man.

Ghost can feel Ravine’s hand flinch and shake as he unconsciously tightens his grip on the shorter male’s hand. The lieutenant turns his head back, observing his body becoming tense making him look bulkier than he was.

The trio is shushed away as Price and Ravine go on their merry way.

“Man, he must really hate doctors.”

Ghost’s eyes linger on Ravine’s back, feeling something amiss. He doesn’t push or ask for an answer but questions are filling his head especially due to the sudden heat he could feel from his hand that was locked with his.

They were hiding something huge that was related to the abnormality that was Ravine but there were too many potential answers to piece together, like a puzzle without edges and weirdly shaped pieces.

He was sure Gaz and Soap were thinking the same thing but they didn’t dare risk breaking whatever frail bond they had with Ravine.

Who was Ravine before he became Ravine?

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

If anyone wants to be tagged let me know :D

@livinglifebesticanlol

(Hope it worked, never tagged anyone before 💦) (Also sorry if my writing got bad, I haven't written for so long 😳)

#mw2 #call of duty #cod mw22 #cod #taskforce 141 #mw2 scenario #xmale!reader #x male reader #xmale!oc ?#mw2 x male reader #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mctavish #Hellfire AU

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littlebluentebook · 3 months

Text

Alastor x Sewing!Reader Pt.5

Chapter 6

"Alastor were you alright?" you asked The night was still awfully early compared to the last week you were there.

"I am alright darling, just feeling a little under the weather is all." Alastor was quick on his feet to come up with an excuse.

You were very shaken up after the dance and he wanted to get you away as soon as possible. In addition, many other men were looking a you.He felt protective of you in a way. Anyone who looked at you lustfully had a reserved daydream in Alastor's mind of being torn to shreds. Alastor wanted you to be all his. It was a silly thought and a foreign concept to him. He liked how kind you were and how you acted towards him.The pleasant conversations were an added bonus. He felt as though everything between you two was so natural and he could slightly let his guard down near you. Of course, he wouldn't utter a word about his jealousy being the reason the night ended short in case it upset you.

"oh goodness! When we get to my home I'll have to give you some medicine and tea!"

You were worried about your friend. What if he had gotten a cold from walking you home last week? The least you could do was ward it off a slight bit. Tonight you had learned your lesson and brought your own jacket so Alastor wouldn't freeze for you.

"Alastor, please come inside and join me for a cup of tea, at least enough to keep you warn on your walk home." You both were standing in the shops entrance. The truth was after your encounter you didn't want to be left alone.

"Hm, just one and I'll be on my way."

Inside the shop Alastor made a note of the flowers on your center table in the middle of the store. You made all the surrounding garments to match. Smiling at this he promised himself he wouldn't forget to give you new flowers at the beginning of the week.

You both walked further into the store to a door Alastor didn't notice before.

"Sorry if it's messy at all, I have had a very busy week and not much time to clean." You knew your home wasn't messy one bit but wanted to break the silence. There wasn't enough time spent there for it to be messy

"You are an awfully busy person Y/N, I think I can excuse it just this once."

You sat Alastor in your small living room, joining him after the kettle was on the stove.

He took notice of your home while you were away. It was neat in its own way. Your home definitely reflected that you were a busy person. Random sheets of numbers and sketches sat in a neat pile on the coffee table. There were books sorted by author and series but stacked haphazardly on a book shelf. The room had three windows with a nice view of the city below. He could even see the radio tower from one window.

"Do you have a tea preference?" you asked unsure.

"What do you have?" Alastor had certain tastes but wanted make sure he wasn't asking too much of you. He wanted to revel in your kindness, for it to be all his. Yet, he didn't want to take advantage of you. It was odd because typically he doesn't mind using others for his own gain.

"Green, chai, black, earl..." you rattled off.

"Chai sounds delightful"

"Perfect! Its my favorite."

It worked well for the evening to wind you both down.

"Y/N?" Alastor asked catching your attention, "how do you stay warm? You have no furnace."

"Oh!" the question caught you by surprise. Sometimes you forget that most homes have fireplaces. Your building wasn't originally meant to be a home and therefore didn't have one. "I have plenty of quilts that I stack. Plus, the oven typically warms this whole place up!"

The kettle went off and you got up to steep yours and Alastor's tea. On the way back you brought the tea, honey, sugar and two quilts. You assumed Alastor was cold and that was why he asked about a non existent furnace.

Alastor had asked the question so maybe you would think he was cold and sit close er to him. He absolutely enjoyed the feeling of you on his arm while walking.

You sat the tea, honey, and sugar on the coffee table then handed him one of the quilts you had made. It was a simple pastel blue with hints of floral fabric.

Instead if grabbing the quilt, Alastor reached underneath to grab your hand and gently led you to sit on the loveseat next to him. You both settled under your respective blankets. You reached for you tea, adding 2 cubes of sugar and a spoonful of honey. Alastor however reached for your stationary hand. He held it without a word, acknowledging nothing.

You didn't say anything either. He was such a gentleman to you! There was no point in ruining a friendship with nonsensical words.

Even after your tea was finished you and Alastor continued to talk about the world around you. He appreciated your ability to find beauty in the world and you appreciated how he could hold a meaningful intelligent conversation.

The entire time you both continued to hold hands. No words were mentioned but Alastor would casually make sure you wouldn't forget your hands were intertwined with his. He grabbed your second hand as soon has the tea was finished. He later then rubbed his thumb across your knuckles every once in a while while you were talking. Whenever you got passionate about a topic he would hold them both close together and bring them towards his lips for a light kiss.

By the time the two of you noticed the time, it was far too late for Alastor to walk home. You insisted he spend the night to which he reluctantly agreed. In all honesty he was excited to be spending all the time he could with you.

You ran down the stairs and into your spare room and grabbed a set of pajamas you hadn't sold for him to put on. They were dark red a fleece lined.

"These are the most comfortable clothes I have ever put on Y/N" he was astonished with the quality and comfort.

"Keep them darling!"

You and Alastor played the game of who would sleep where. He was willing to take your love seat but he was a guest, you wouldn't allow it. Additionally, neither of you fit on that seat comfortably.

#alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #alastor

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milogreer · 2 months

Text

finally getting around to posting this geordi/cutie fic i teased a few weeks ago! sorry for the wait 😅 2.6k words of a little angst leading to fluff 💖 enjoy!

They look tired. They just got off a plane, of course they’re tired. Yeah, but, like. They look tired. Even with only a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a rolling suitcase dragging along behind them, Cutie somehow looks as though they’re carrying the weight of the world. Are they okay? Hmm. Maybe they had just a bad flight. Have they seen me yet? No, they’re still looking around. Call them or something, why are you just-

Their eyes lock, finally, and even from across the room and with what feels like a thousand people between them, Geordi can see the way Cutie’s entire body relaxes at the sight of him. They meet halfway, Cutie’s bag thudding to the ground as they all but fall into Geordi’s embrace and bury their face in his chest.

See? I think they’re upset. Or they just missed me. I missed them. God, that week felt like a month. I hope they had fun with their family though. I wonder what they’re like. They don’t talk about them much. Are they all telepaths? At least one of them is, I’m pretty sure. That doesn’t matter right now, I should tell them-

“I missed you.” He pulls out of the hug just enough to press a lingering kiss to their forehead. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I missed you too.” They hold his gaze for a moment, eyes shiny and brow furrowed the tiniest bit, before looking away. “Can we go?”

Like a flipped switch, the bustle of the airport around them comes back into focus. Geordi steps back, fighting the urge to look around to see if anyone’s watching them. It was just a forehead kiss. Who cares if anyone saw it?

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get your bags.”

There’s definitely something wrong. It’s been twenty minutes and they’ve barely said two words. They’re just looking out the window, they might just be jet lagged. Does jet lag only affect sleep cycles or does it make you sleepy too? They haven’t asked to link yet. That’s weird. Is it weird?

Geordi sneaks a peak out of the corner of his eye. Cutie’s slouched against the car door, their elbow on the arm rest and chin in hand, head resting on the window. Normally they’d be singing along to the radio and giggling when they mess up a lyric, but today they’re just… quiet. To say Geordi’s concerned would be an understatement - Cutie’s almost never this quiet. It’s a little scary.

They look like they’re thinking about something. Oh, shit. They’re not waiting for me to invite them in, are they? They’ve never been shy about asking before. Geordi frowns. He taps anxiously on the steering wheel. Was I late picking them up? They said their flight landed at eleven, I got there at ten thirty just to be safe. Wait, I couldn’t have been late, I watched the plane land, for Christ’s sake. So what did I do?

Taking in a deep breath and trying to disguise his tone from the fact that he’s winding himself up for likely no reason, he asks, “How, uh, how was your flight?”

“Fine.” Cutie doesn’t look over, just continues gazing out the window at the passing landscape. The word seems to stick in their throat. “Slept through it.”

Good. “That’s good.” I guess.

They only shrug in response, and the rest of the car ride passes in silence.

It’s not until they’re safely at home, luggage ditched by the front door and the rest of the world shut out behind them, that Geordi finally gathers enough courage to speak again.

“You haven’t said much since I picked you up.” He keeps his worry as light as possible as he watches Cutie collapse onto the couch, their back against the arm and their legs stretched out along the cushions. “Is everything okay?”

With a pitiful sounding sigh, Cutie signs, “can’t talk” before their hands drop onto their stomach.

Can’t? Or won’t? Shut up.

“Well, if you want to talk, you can come in.” He gestures to his head with a meek smile. “I promise I won’t sing “It’s A Small World” this time.”

His attempt to lighten the mood works; Cutie exhales through their nose and rolls their eyes, but they’re smiling at the same time. It only lasts a moment though before their expression drops, overtaken again by exhaustion. They hold out their arms, silently requesting Geordi join them on the couch.

So they’re not mad at me? Jesus, give it a rest, Geordi.

“Scoot down a little, I’ll sit behind you.”

No sooner has Geordi settled into the corner of the couch than Cutie’s shuffling up into his lap and tucking themselves against him, their head nestling into the crook of his neck. A contented sigh escapes them as Geordi shakes out the throw blanket from the back of the couch to cover the two of them.

“Better?”

They hum affirmatively.

Should I ask again if they want in? I don’t want them to feel pressured, but they didn’t answer me last time. I could just talk about my week. But what if they want to talk about theirs after all? … Ugh, I hate when they go nonverbal- No, that’s not true, I just need to work with them. It’s okay. Just get over it and ask.

“You wanna talk about it, or should I give you a riveting play-by-play of how boring this week without you was?”

“Tell me everything,” they sign.

So he does, even though there isn’t really much to tell. He doesn’t have half the social life Cutie does; he much prefers staying home with his video games over going out with a big group of people. But he makes a show of his storytelling, recalling with intense emotion how the ending of a show he’d been watching had absolutely bombed and how he’d had a rather heated debate about said show with one of his coworkers. He tells them about a new board game he picked up that he thought they might like, about a recipe his mom had sent him that they had to make together as soon as possible because it sounds amazing, and about he’d finally won that one annoying boss fight he’d been stuck on for days before their trip.

“What do you mean, “tell me more?” I’ve been talking for an hour,” Geordi says with a laugh. “I think I’m out of material. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t live a very exciting life. The most fun I had last week was getting a free Frosty from Wendy’s on accident.”

Cutie laughs for the first time, and the warmth that spreads through him is like standing in direct sunlight after a week of rain. I love their laugh. It’s sweet. They’re cute when they smile. Are they feeling better now? I hope so. Fuck, I’m thirsty. I can’t get up right now. They look comfortable. Unless…

“Are you hungry? Did you eat before your flight?”

After a brief pause wherein they glance away shamefully, they shake their head.

Oh no. That upset them. I don’t want them to feel bad, it’s not a big deal. Yeah, we can just eat now. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll just find something to eat now.” He pats their leg reassuringly, drawing their attention back to him. “Caaan I get a kiss first?”

Their smile, even as small as it is right now, is infectious. They hold up their hand, index finger and thumb almost touching.

“Just a little one?”

Cutie nods, then tilts their head as if in thought before signing, “for now,” and winking at him.

The unexpected playfulness after their recent gloominess makes him laugh. Cutie pushes up to kiss him, one arm hooked around his neck to pull him close - his laugh turns into a gasp of surprise at the force of it. The position they’re in isn’t the most comfortable for kissing, which is just as well; true to their word, Cutie breaks the kiss seconds later.

Do they look happier now? Lighter. Not so sad. I hate when they’re sad. They deserve to be happy. I’m glad I make them happy. They make me happy.

“I love you.”

Their cheeks darken, bottom lip caught between their teeth to keep their smile contained. “Can I still come in?”

Relief floods through him. He hadn’t realized he was still this worried about their missing connection. “Yeah, of course.”

A beat of silence passes, then-

I love you too.

The sound of their voice reverberating in his head is comfortingly familiar. After a week of stress and boredom and missing them so badly it sometimes kept him up at night, it’s finally feeling like home around here again.

That was cute. You’re cute.

Cutie giggles. I’m glad to be home.

Me too. It feels like home again. “Now, come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

They roll obediently off the couch, springing to their feet with the energy of their old self. They clasp their hands in front of them and bat their eyes sweetly at Geordi. Can you make pancakes-

With chocolate chips? they finish in unison, breaking into laughter seconds later.

You know me so well.

There’s an emotion tied to their statement that Geordi doesn’t readily understand. Why do you sound surprised? “That wasn’t weird, was it?” I didn’t think it was weird, but-

It wasn’t weird, they assure him, signing along with their thoughts as they hop up into one of the chairs at the counter while Geordi circles to the other side of the kitchen island. It’s just… They shrug in what he imagines is meant to be indifference, though their facade doesn’t fool him. People don’t usually know that kind of stuff about me.

You sound sad. Don’t be sad. I mean, you know, you can be sad, I just mean, he rifles through cabinets, pulling out the ingredients for pancakes, “I know a lot of little things about you.” Weirdo. It’s not weird! “Like, I know that you like to sleep on the side of the bed farthest away from the door, and that your favorite color right now is neon pink but that it’ll probably change by next week. I know you like cats but you’re allergic to them. Your favorite candy flavor is green apple because you like that it’s only a little sour.” Okay, maybe it is getting a little too much, I should-

“Geordi.”

His name being said out loud, the first time they’ve spoken verbally since going nonverbal, makes him jump, nearly fumbling the skillet he’s just pulled out.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “That was a lot, I know-”

Cutie reaches a hand out across the island, palm flat on the cold marble. Hold on, let me finish. With a visible swallow, Geordi gently sets the skillet on the stovetop and nods. “It’s not too much. I think it’s sweet that you remember all that about me.” Their voice softens, so much so that it’s barely audible even in his head. My parents don’t even know pancakes are my favorite.

Uh oh. Parent mention. Is that why they were upset? Did they get into it on their trip? Stop it, that’s not my business. Well, they brought it up, am I supposed to not be curious? They don’t ever talk about them. Geordi shakes his head to reorient himself, then addresses Cutie directly. Sorry. Obviously you don’t have to talk about it- about them- if you don’t want to.

“Maybe later?” they sign, and the discomfort written across their face makes Geordi’s stomach turn.

“Whenever you’re up to it. I won’t push you.”

With their hands pressed to their heart, they say, Thank you.

You don’t have to thank me. I want you to feel comfortable. For added sincerity and also just out of habit, he signs as well as audibly says, “I love you.”

Cutie returns the gesture, blowing a kiss for good measure that Geordi pretends to catch, holding his closed fist to his chest. They both laugh, and he turns to start cooking.

Anyway, Cutie says, tapping at their phone until soft music starts to play from the plant-shaped speaker on the island, is there anything I can do to help?

You’re supposed to be relaxing. Cooking can be relaxing. I think it is, at least. And cooking together is always fun. There’s not a whole lot to do with pancakes, but- “You wanna come add the chocolate chips?”

Cutie wastes no time joining Geordi on his side of the island, scooping up the bag of chocolate chips and palming a handful.

Now?

“Yeah, it’s almost ready to flip.”

They bump him gently out of the way to meticulously sprinkle chocolate chips amongst the batter sizzling in the pan until it’s almost more chocolate than pancake. They drop the rest of the chips from their palm into their mouth.

Geordi chuckles as he moves back over to flip the pancake. Always the sweet tooth.

Almost as sweet as me. Cutie grins cheekily.

Cute. So cute. Kiss? No, they said no more kisses. For now. “Almost,” he agrees, tapping the tip of their nose with his index finger to pull another smile out of them.

They wrap their arms around him from behind while he cooks, cheek nuzzling the soft fabric of his hoodie. Thank you.

The abrupt spike in heart rate makes his hand tremble faintly. For what?

For loving me.

Geordi’s racing mind stills, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Gently, he unwinds their arms from his waist so he can turn to face them, holding their hands in both of his. His brow’s furrowed as his thoughts kickstart into overdrive, much too fast for Cutie to catch most of, struggling to find the right words to say that don’t make him sound like a bumbling idiot.

“I feel like,” he says slowly, the corners of his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back a smile, “if I try to tell you to not thank me for that you’ll argue with me.” Cutie nods matter-of-factly. Yeah, exactly. “So, instead, I’ll say thank you for, y’know…” He looks down at their hands, his thumbs rubbing idly against their skin. Showing me that it’s okay to love again. And that I can be loved too.

Eyes sparkling with adoration, Cutie brings their joined hands to their chest, rising up onto their toes to meet him in a kiss; their choked-up I love you is echoed by Geordi’s. Their arms wrap around his neck as his encircle their waist, both basking in the feeling of their bodies pressed together after so long apart.

Missed you. Missed this. Touching you. Holding you. I’m glad you’re home. It was lonely without you. I love you. A week is too long. Ugh, that’s clingy, isn’t it? Not now, brain. You taste sweet. Like chocolate.

Like they’ve been burned, Cutie pulls away with a sharp gasp, gripping Geordi’s upper arms in their panic. “The pancake!”

Relegated safely off to the side of the stove, Cutie watches with bated breath as Geordi snatches the spatula from the countertop to rescue the pancake. He flips it onto a plate, and -

He sighs in defeat, staring at the burnt pancake with a grimace.

Yeah, that’s, uh…

It’s not that bad.

Geordi scoffs, though it’s more amused than derisive. You’re telling me you’ll eat that? The stretch of silence that follows his question is answer enough even without the way Cutie wrinkles their nose. I didn’t think so. He chucks it into the bin.

Sorry for distracting you.

“I think that was more important than one pancake. Don’t worry.”

Sufficiently reassured, Cutie sidles up close to his side again as he preps the next pancake.

I’m going to put a smiley face on this one.

That is horrible distribution.

Cutie laughs, hooking their arm around Geordi’s free one. But it’s cute!

He kisses the top of their head. As long as you’re happy.

#geordi is sooo much fun to write #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted geordi #redacted cutie #sweetheart.txt #fic tag #geordi #cutie

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uglypastels · 2 years

Note

Could we have Eddie seeing your scars for the first time?

hiyaa! hope the take I took on this is alright <3

warnings: angst [trauma; events of volume 2; insecurities about body; isolation] mention of deep scarring with vague descriptions. Short mention of blood. a lot of comfort

A lot had happened that night in the Upside Down that none of you wanted to talk about. Horrible, terrible, dark things. As the weeks, and months, went by, you all tried to move on, pretending like it was just some far away and nasty dream that happened to have occurred to all of you.

But some things, no matter how hard you tried, were unforgettable.

Eddie would never forget any of it. Hell, he had been the one to carry you out of the demon dimension himself. Covered in your blood, crying out to you, hoping you could still hear all his reassuring words. It will be ok, you hear me? I'm gonna get you help. As much as he wanted to forget everything that happened there, he would never let himself forget how you saved his life.

When he brought you into the hospital, there was no time for questions. The only priority was to get you back to him. He screamed at the nurses and doctors, begging for help. Some of them tried to get to him, as he was covered in bite marks himself, but he didn't care whether he lived or died. He needed you to be ok.

So, time went on and life went back to as normal as it could be. You went to classes, graduated with Eddie, and had the whole summer ahead of you. What more could you ask for?

Well, for one, some shittier weather. The sun beamed up above you, layering sweat over your skin, making it unbearable to wear the smallest amounts of clothing, something you were not too eager to do. You didn't feel like showing off your souvenir from the Upside Down to the rest of town; to your friends– who were trying to forget all of that just as much as you were. There was no need to remind them of it.

But it was difficult to hide them in weather conditions such as these. Long sleeves were not an option unless you were eager to get a heatstroke. So, since you could not hide it, you could hide entirely from everyone else. The first few weeks of the summer, you spend hiding out in your room, picking up the phone just to quickly come up with excuses why you couldn't meet your friends at the pool.

It seemed to be going smoothly, your little hermit-summer plan, until one afternoon, you heard the doorbell ring. Your window was just at the wrong angle to see who was standing at the door, but you could hear your brother talking to him– Eddie. What the hell was he doing here?

You could hear the footsteps come up the stairs, nearing your bedroom. The soft knock on the door followed by his voice— god, you had missed that voice.

'y/n?'

Maybe if you didn't answer, he would go away.

'Can we please talk? I– we're all worried sick about you.'

'I'm fine. I just want to be alone, ok.' You were scrambling around your room, trying to find something to cover up with, in case he would walk in. You had just been wearing some shorts and a tank top, very much not hiding what you needed to have covered up.

'Please, can I just see you–' you had to understand, for the past few weeks, Eddie had been a mess. You used to spend all your days together, not one would go by where you had not talked and now– radio silence. For weeks. He was scared, but he had wanted to give you space, everyone else told him thats the best thing to do. If you didn't want to see anyone, he couldn't just go and barge into your room– but he had had enough. His anxieties were getting too much, so, when you didn't answer, he took it upon himself to push the door open.

'I'm sorry ok, but–' What he saw not only shut him up, closed up his throat entirely, but it broke his heart. You were standing in front of him, in the middle of your room, trying to wrap a cardigan around yourself. But even then, he could see the dark red skin of your legs, your shoulder.

'Go away, please.' You were ready to cry. He couldn't see you like this.

'y/n,' he whispered. Was this why you didn't want him to see you? Because of the scars?

'Please,' the tears streaked down your face. But he didn't move. His hand was on the door handle, and he only let it go to walk towards you and pull you in the tightest hug you had ever felt. It was the first time anyone had touched you in weeks, and it was like a hot shower poured over you. You could feel the care and love he had in him for you.

Not knowing what else to do, you just started crying against his chest. He let you without hesitation, stroking your hair gently, swaying your bodies from side to side. 'It's ok,' he repeated.

When you pulled away, he wiped away your tears with a kind smile, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, pulling at them to insinuate a grin out of you.

'I'm sorry for being so distant,' you said weakly, not that he even thought you needed to apologise. 'I just feel so embarrassed, they're so big and ugly–'

'Hey, don't, ok?' He sat down on your bed, pulling you along to sit next to him. 'You are still beautiful. Always have been, always will be. No matter what. And these fuckers–' he poked at your thigh, where one particularly large scar had grown, 'these just show how strong you are. You think anyone's gonna mess with you if they see these? Ha, they'lll run away from you, the Mighty y/n!'

'Thanks,' you wiped at your cheek with your sleeve. Silence filled the room.

Then Eddie looked over at you.

'You wanna see mine?'

'What?' You were confused.

'My scars,' he pulled his shirt up to reveal his ribs, where a very similar red scar had settled. 'We basically match, huh?'

You were speechless as Eddie kept on going. He showed you the scar on his neck, which was smaller and had actually faded. Than a smaller one on his knee, which had nothing to do with the Upside Down or Demo-bats. He had gotten it when he fell out of a tree when he was seven.

'And this badboy,' he showed you his palm, where a long thin line interrupted the natural ones, 'cut myself in metal shop. Blood was everywhere. Mr Franklin nearly fainted.'

'Really?' you listened to all his stories. Most of these scars you had noticed on him, but never really wondered about where they had come from. They had just always been there, they had always been a part of him. They were a part of his history and what made Eddie Eddie. Just like your scars made you you.

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mrsstruggle · 1 year

Text

The Lost Child - Chapter 34 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

Summary: Y/N Stark was taken from her family when she was three years old. It's fifteen years later and her family believes she is dead. Then how is she living in Beacon Hills?

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Steve Rodgers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff, & More To Come

Previous Pairings: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Scott McCall x Allison Argent

Words: 5.5k

Note: Sorry this is so late!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

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Everyone was quiet as they made their way through the woods toward the hunter’s safe house. The only sound that could be heard was the crunching of leaves and sticks beneath their feet. Y/N knows it’s wrong, but she wishes she was Allison right now so she wouldn’t have to deal with everything.

Stiles doesn’t like the silence but it’s taking everything in him to break it. He’s worried that if he starts talking then he won’t be able to stop. He’s also not sure if he wants to accidentally piss off anyone who’s in charge of protecting his life.

As much as he’s annoyed at everything that has happened and that has come to light, he also can’t help but have a little fanboy moment inside his head. He’s about to head into battle with the Avengers. The last time they stormed a place he had been sidelined. Now, he’s walking through the woods, about to go into a little war with the hunters, with the Avengers suited up next to him. It’s like a dream he always had but also mixed with a nightmare he always had.

He watches Y/N from the back of the group as she and Chris lead them to the safe house. He doesn’t like that he’s been paired with Liam and Peter but it could be worse. He could be paired up with Peter Hale. He definitely wouldn’t make it out alive if that were the case.

“Are we almost there?” Peter Hale asks.

“Why? Do you have somewhere better to be?” Scott questions.

“Yes. I was thinking about asking your mother out again.”

“Wait, what?” Sam looks between Scott and Peter, confused about what he just heard. How old is this guy and why does it seem like he only hangs out with teenagers? He knows Peter is Derek’s uncle but he also dated one of these kids' mothers?

“Ignore him.” Derek rolls his eyes at his uncle. He just wants to get this over with. He’s tired of having to deal with the Argents and the Avengers. He wants to go home, wrap Y/N up in a warm blanket, and not leave their bedroom until they have to. This past week has caused him too much stress and he’s over it.

Y/N comes to a stop and waits for the others to stand around her, “We’ll split up here. Remember, Sam, Bucky, and Malia, you’ll take the right side. Kira, Natasha, and Wanda, you’ll follow them but then split off to the north side. Scott and Steve, you’re going to the left side. Stiles, Liam, and Peter, you’ll follow them. You’re in charge of killing the Anuk-ite, so good luck with that.”

Chris takes off his backpack before unzipping it and holding it out to everyone, “Everyone take a walkie-talkie. I’m sure these aren’t as advanced as some of you are used to but they’ll do. I’ve already set them to the correct channel but it’s channel 7 if you mess it up.”

“Radio in if you feel the Anuk-Ite so Stiles and them know where to go. He has the mountain ash to kill it so don’t try killing it yourself,” Y/N says while everyone grabs a walkie-talkie. “Also radio if you need help. While we have an idea of what we’re up against, there could be more and some of you have never had to fight these types of creatures before. They are very different from your space aliens.”

“Anything else?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah, don’t die.”

“How are you not a motivational speaker?”

“Okay, let’s go before they do this for another twenty minutes,” Scott says, walking away from the group to the left where Y/N told him to go. Steve presses a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips and murmurs something under his breath to him before following Scott.

“Radio in when you’re in place!” Y/N yells out to Scott.

The rest of the Avengers watch as Y/N and Stiles lock their pinky fingers and promise each other they won’t die. Y/N doesn’t know it but she’s done that since before Pepper gave her away. Anytime they’d go on a mission she’d make them promise they were going to come back. She believed that pinky promises were a binding promise and that there was no way you could break them. It’s little things like that that let them know that the girl they knew is still there, just a bit different.

“One last thing,” Y/N sticks out her hand toward Chris. Chris pulls out a bulletproof vest from his backpack and hands it to Y/N. She quickly pulls it over Stiles’ head and straps it around him before he has a chance to protest. “Just in case.”

“Why have I never been given one of these before?” Stiles scoffs.

“Just be grateful you’re getting one now. Now go.”

Chris, Derek, Peter Hale, Tony, and Y/N watch as the others run off to where they’re supposed to be.

“What else do you have in that bag?” Derek asks, eyeing the backpack in Chris’ hand.

“You don’t want to know,” Chris zips his backpack up and puts it back on his back.

“We’re in place.” Scott’s voice rings out of their walkie-talkies.

Y/N sighs as she tries to mentally prepare herself for the fight ahead, “I think I could sleep for a week after this. I’m surprised I haven't gotten a call from my boss yet saying I’m fired for being gone for so long. I swear I didn’t have this many vacation days.”

Derek moves to stand in front of Y/N to meet her eyes, “I’m sure they’ve seen the news and will understand why you haven’t been in for a while. Scott said Melissa was covering for you so I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I’ll have to get her something nice for covering for me this long.”

“And she’ll tell you that you don’t owe her anything.” Derek pulls Y/N close and presses a kiss against her forehead. He knows how stressed she is about everything because he’s also stressed about everything.

“We’re in place.” Bucky’s voice rings out from the walkie-talkies.

“How do you want us to get into the house?” Y/N turns to Tony at his question. She almost forgot the others were there with her and Derek.

“We need to wait until everyone has lured out as many hunters as possible then we fly in,” Y/N says.

“You can fly as well?” Tony’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. Did he miss something in the files Hydra made about her? Can werewolves fly?

“No, you’ll have to either carry me or I can get on your back.”

Tony goes to respond but Kira’s voice cuts him off as it rings out through the walkie-talkies, “We’re in place.”

“Okay,” Y/N looks around at Chris, Derek, Peter, and Tony, “you ready?”

Chris tightens the knife holders on his thighs and double-checks the gun in his hand, “Ready.”

“Ready,” Tony says as his suit builds around him.

“Can we finally get this over with?” Peter asks, inspecting his claws.

“I’m going to climb up into a tree until I think it’s time for us to hit the house. You should do the same.” Y/N says, looking at Tony. “I’m their biggest target and if they know where I am then they’ll forget about the others. We’ve got to hide a bit first.”

“I’ll follow you,” Tony replies.

Y/N looks back at Derek, “Be safe and kick some hunter ass. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Derek says before pressing a hard kiss on her lips, as if he’s scared he won’t see her again.

Y/N pulls away and walks over to the nearest tree, “You know what to do babe!”

Derek, Chris, and Peter watch as Y/N starts to climb up the tree and Tony flies up into the one next to her. Derek waits until he can no longer see her figure before transforming into his beta form.

“Now we can get this over with,” Derek says, letting out a loud roar to let everyone know it’s time to go and to let the hunters know they’re here.

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Steve tightens the shield around his arm before looking up at the sound of a roar.

“What was that?” Peter asks, looking around making sure nothing is coming at them. He’s dealt with a lot of weird things being in the Avengers but he’s never heard something like that before.

“That was Derek,” Stiles states.

“You stay here and wait for someone to radio you,” Scott tells Stiles, Liam, and Peter.

“Where are you going?” Liam asks.

“We’re going straight towards them. Let’s go.” Scott nods at Steve to follow him.

Steve huffs a bit in frustration as he follows Scott. He doesn’t enjoy being told what to do from a teenager. If it was Y/N here, he would follow without question. She might have been for 15 years but he’d still trust her with his life.

Scott slows as he gets closer to the safe house. He can already hear a few hunters loading their guns and sharpening their knives. He listens to their panicked voices as they talk about the roar they heard and how they know they’re being attacked. If he focuses hard enough he can also hear Stiles, Liam, and Peter bickering behind them.

“Let’s stop here. We don’t want to get too close.” Scott says. “We need to lure them out here.” Scott tries to count the number of hunters standing outside of the house in front of them.

“I got it,” Steve states, throwing his shield out toward the hunters. The shield hits three hunters, knocking them to the ground, before coming back to Steve.

“That’s one way to do it,” Scott mumbles, watching as the hunters look their way. He quickly ducts behind a tree as the hunters slowly make their way towards them.

Steve ducts behind another tree as they wait for the hunters to come closer. He can hear the ground crunch behind him letting him know where they are. He waits until he can see the end of a gun before jumping out and knocking the hunter back into two others.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

Scott jumps out from where he’s hiding as all eyes are on Steve, throwing the hunter closest to him into a tree—knocking him out. Bullets start to fly as Steve and Scott attack. Scott’s surprised he hasn’t been hit by any bullets yet as knocks out another hunter.

Steve throws his shield toward the hunter's legs, the vibranium-metal breaking their knees and shins as it hits them. He quickly knocks them out as they hit the ground one by one. It’s not long until they’ve taken out all of the hunters that attacked them.

“Is that it?” Steve asks, knocking out the last hunter.

“I doubt it. The others must have the rest of the hunters distracted or the rest of them haven’t left the safe house.” Scott says, looking around for other hunters.

“We should move in,” Steve says, moving towards the safehouse before Scott sticks out an arm to stop him.

“Not until we’re told too.”

“There’s no one over here. We should move in.”

“Not until Y/N tells us too.”

Steve doesn’t understand why they can’t just move in. They easily took out the hunters. He doesn’t understand why they were acting like they were going to be a challenge. The hunters are down on their side and they have a clear shot toward the safe house.

Scott’s head quickly turns as he starts to smell something in the air, “Do you smell that?”

“What?” Steve doesn’t know what Scott’s talking about.

“It smells like…” Scott’s voice trails off as his eyes widen as he looks behind Steve.

Steve quickly turns around to see four large creatures standing behind him. They look like men wearing bones and an animal skull for a mask. “What am I looking at?”

“Berserkers.”

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Sam and Bucky are standing back-to-back as they fight off the hunters around them while Malia holds off more of them.

“How many of these guys are there?” Sam asks, slamming another hunter onto the ground.

“I don’t know but they’re pissing me off,” Bucky says. His arm comes up to block the bullets being shot at him from a hunter on the ground. He rips the gun out of the hunter’s hand and knocks him out with a quick kick to the face.

Bucky turns to find another hunter to attack to see the hunters fleeing from them.

“Why are they running?” Sam asks.

“Something’s coming,” Malia states, her eyes closed while trying to listen to her surroundings.

Bucky tries to listen and see if he can hear what she hears. He closes his eyes for a second. It sounds like something is running toward them. He opens his eyes and looks into the woods in front of him. Something is charging at them.

“Get down!” Bucky tackles Sam to the ground as a deer jumps out from the trees and almost tramples over them. It runs past them almost as quickly as it appeared. It looked rabid.

“What the hell?” Sam mutters, staring at where the deer ran off.

Bucky looks down to where Sam is in his arms from when he tackled him. Disgusted, he scrambles up off the ground and away from Sam.

“Did you smell that?” Malia asks.

“Robo boy’s cheap cologne? Yeah, I smelled it.” Sam says, wiping the dirt off his suit as he stands up from the ground.

“No, the deer. It smelled like fear.”

“Fear?” Bucky asks. He thought that something was running at them but what if it was actually running away from something? He slowly pulls out his walkie-talkie while his eyes dart around. “We found the Anuk-Ite.”

“On our way,” Stiles’ voice rings out from the walkie-talkies.

“Are you sure?” Sam questions Bucky.

“Yeah, I’m su–” a pained scream from the woods cuts him off. He pauses, his head whipping toward the sound.

“Bucky! Buck!” someone is screaming out for him. He moves to run into the woods but Malia moves in front of him to stop him.

“What are you doing?” Malia asks.

“Do you not hear someone screaming?!” Bucky yells, angry that she’s preventing him from finding whoever’s yelling for him. He swears it almost sounded like Steve.

“The only person screaming right now is you,” Sam says.

“What?” Bucky looks between Sam and Malia. Can they not hear what he’s hearing?

Sam stares at Bucky for a second before realizing what’s happening, “Close your eyes! Close your eyes now!”

“Why am I closing my eyes?!” Malia yells, her eyes now shut tight.

“It’s the Anuk-Ite. Whatever happens, don’t open your eyes.”

Sam, Bucky, and Malia stand still as they wait for something to happen. They’re hoping Stiles gets here soon to kill the thing.

“How could you?” Bucky quickly whips his head around, his eyes still shut tight, as Steve’s voice whispers in his ear. “Why?”

“I don’t understand…” Bucky whispers, confused about what's happening.

“I told you to finish him.” Bucky’s head whips around again. He knows that voice. It belongs to the man responsible for turning him into the Winter Soldier, Arnim Zola.

“Buck…no,” Steve’s voice whimpers. “This isn’t you.”

“You have your orders, soldier! Kill him!”

��No!”

“You can’t stop him, Steve. He’s no longer the boy you used to know. He never will be. He has always been the Winter Soldier, and he always will be.”

Bucky’s closed eyes tighten as he repeatedly mutters to himself, “This isn’t real. It’s not real.”

“Buck…” Steve’s voice is quiet. Bucky can feel a soft hand caress his cheek. It feels like Steve.

“I’ll do it.” That sounds like Y/N’s voice but harsher. It sounds like when she was pretending to be under the hunter’s and Hydra’s control.

“Ah, my perfect soldier. Always ready to do what you’re told.” Zola’s voice sounds closer than it was before.

“She’s not your soldier,” Bucky growls. Y/N will never be Hydra’s soldier.

“I think you’re forgetting who you are. Let me remind you. Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybrea–”

“Shut up!”

“It’s who you are! Now, finish your mission!”

“No!” Bucky is trying to remind himself that this isn’t real but it’s getting harder too.

“Let me.” Y/N’s voice is now coming from in front of him. “Just admit it. You couldn’t save yourself, you couldn’t save me, and you couldn’t save Steve.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

It goes quiet. Maybe it’s over?

As Bucky brings a hand up to his face to wipe away the overwhelmed tears that were slowly falling from his eyes, he hears the sound of someone being stabbed in front of him. His body goes rigid as he hears someone start to choke—possibly on their own blood.

“Hail Hydra,” Y/N’s voice whispers in his ear.

Bucky quickly opens his eyes toward the ground in shock and confusion. His eyes move slightly in front of him to a knife sticking out of someone. Not just someone. He’d recognize that uniform anywhere. Steve.

Bucky’s eyes shoot up to Steve’s face only to be met with the glowing purple eyes of the Anuk-ite. His body immediately turned to stone.

“Buck, you still good?!” Sam calls out, unaware of what just happened. He can’t hear Bucky but he can hear Malia. She sounds like she’s apologizing to someone until she goes quiet. “Malia?”

“Malia?!” Sam can hear someone yelling for her.

“Uncle Sam?! Uncle B?!” Peter rushes into the area where Sam, Bucky, and Malia are. Liam and Stiles run in behind him.

“Oh my god…” Stiles stares at Malia’s frozen figure. She looks like a statue from Medusa’s lair in the Percy Jackson movie.

“Please tell me you’re real?” Sam asks.

“The Anuk-Ite’s gone,” Liam says.

Sam opens his eyes to see Peter staring at a Bucky statue. Stiles and Liam are also crouched down next to a Malia statue.

“What happened?” Peter turns to look at Sam.

“I-I don’t know. One second it was here and now it’s not. I’m not even sure when this happened.” Sam gestures to Bucky. Why didn’t the Anuk-Ite go for him? He could hear Bucky talking to someone—most likely whoever the Anuk-Ite wanted him to talk to—and he could hear Malia, but nothing ever happened to him.

“Now what?” Liam asks.

“They still need people attacking on this side,” Stiles says. They need people to weaken the hunters from every side.

“I can still do it but I don’t know if I can do it alone,” Sam states.

“I’ll stay,” Liam volunteers. “I can help on this side while you two get the Anuk-Ite.”

Stiles looks hesitant but agrees, “Make sure nothing happens to them.” Stiles looks between Malia and Bucky and wonders how much longer he has before their current state is permanent.

“Where do you think it went?” Peter asks.

“I don’t know.”

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“What the hell are these people?!” Nat yells out, barely missing the edge of the blade that swipes at her.

“They’re Oni!” Kira yells back. She’s trying to hold off four Oni while Natasha and Wanda fight the other three.

“I thought we’re supposed to be fighting hunters?!”

“I thought the same thing!” Wanda yells.

Natasha ducks as one of the Oni swings their sword at her. She’s able to remove the sword from the Oni’s hand as the sword lodges itself in the tree next to her. Nat quickly pulls the sword away from the tree and watches as the Oni pulls another sword out of nowhere.

“We’re going to die here.” Nat mumbles, readying herself to continue fighting.

As Kira blocks the Oni’s swings, she can see the glint of a weapon coming from within the trees behind them. “I think the hunters have finally decided to join them!” She hears the sound of something firing.

Wanda and Natasha turn to see several hunters running toward them. Most of them seem to be carrying guns while the others seem to be holding knives. Nat can count about thirty hunters.

“You guys take the hunters! I’ve got these guys!” Kira yells at them, her eyes starting to glow.

“You sure?!” Nat asks.

“Go!”

Wanda and Natasha break away from the Oni and charge toward the hunters. Nat throws the sword in her hand on the ground and pulls out her Glock 26s. As the hunters start to shoot at them, Wanda uses her powers to rip a tree out of the ground and throw it through the group of hunters—knocking several to the ground.

Nat ducks behind a tree as bullets fly past her. The bullets slowly come to halt as she reloads her guns. She can hear footsteps getting closer to her. It sounds like five different people are coming toward her. Nat puts one of her guns back in its holster as she takes a deep breath.

As the tip of a hunter’s gun comes into view, she grabs the front of the assault rifle while throwing her elbow into the hunter’s face. He lets go of the gun as she knocks him out with the butt of her Glock. Adjusting the assault rifle in her grip, she turns and shoots down the other four hunters.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to kill any of them?!” Wanda yells out to Nat.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that!” Natasha yells back.

Wanda throws another hunter back as she watches Nat take down more as well. Looking back at Kira, she notices a glowing figure around the young girl as she fights off the Oni.

Kira can feel her anger and frustration growing as she continues to fight. She can also feel her control starting to slip. The fox spirit around grows bigger and bigger the longer she fights.

As she feels a blade cut through her right thigh, her fox quickly grows before launching itself at the seven Oni. A blinding light shoots out as the Oni are killed, hindering the hunters. Kira can feel her fox getting more powerful with each Oni it takes out.

With her back facing the light, Natasha uses the distraction to shoot down the rest of the hunters. Looking over at Wanda, she can see her crouched behind a tree blocking the light with her hands. As the light disappears, she turns around to find Kira kneeling on the ground and no Oni around her.

“What happened?!” Nat yelled toward Kira.

“I killed them!” Kira yells back, pressing down on the wound on her leg as it starts to slowly heal.

“Why didn’t you do that earlier?!”

“I don’t really have control of it!”

“Did you have to kill all of them?” Wanda asks Natasha, looking at all of the dead hunters behind them.

“Did you want me to wait until they killed one of us?”

Wanda rolls her eyes at Nat’s response. She could’ve put them all to sleep but it’s too late for that now. She walks over to where Kira is now sitting on the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My leg should be good in just a minute.” Kira replies.

“I wonder if everybody else also has to deal with more than just hunters?” Nat mumbles, sitting down next to Kira.

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Sitting up high in a tree, Y/N watches as Derek, Peter, and Chris battle the hunters down below. She can hear her radio go off and Scott’s voice asking for help. It takes everything in her to not jump down and help after one hunter’s knife gets a little too close to Derek’s throat.

“Is this what you deal with here in Beacon Hills?” Tony questions, watching as more hunters seem to come out of nowhere.

“Yeah, but hunters have always been the least of our worries,” Y/N replies, her grip tightening on the tree in anger as more hunters appear. She could easily use her powers from here and take them out but then Kate would know where she is.

Tony feels at a loss for words. Watching the hunters down below, he can’t believe this is what his daughter has been with. He doesn’t know why this didn’t hit him before. He was so caught up in everything else, he hasn’t taken a step back to notice how calm she and her friends seem to be about everything.

Since the Avengers have been in Beacon Hills, they’ve dealt with hunters, Hydra, and more. He knows to an extent what Y/N dealt with when she was with Hydra, but what else has she dealt with?

Friends of hers have apparently died and he has no idea why. Was it because of hunters? Was it because of something else they’ve faced? Or was it something that has nothing to do with this little world she lives in?

Tony stares at Y/N as he thinks of something to say. He has so many things that he wants to say and so many questions he wants to ask but now is not the time.

“I can practically hear you thinking from here,” Y/N looks up and locks eyes with Tony. “I know you have a lot of questions and so do I. I don’t really know how long you’re going to be here in Beacon Hills but I’d like to start over after all of this is done.”

“We can stay as long as you want. You can come back with us too…i-if you want. I-I mean I know you’re a lot older now but we kept your rooms the same as you left them. Well, we have a cleaner that cleans them once every two weeks.”

“Rooms?”

“Yeah, one at the compound and one in our old home. We haven’t lived there since you…disappeared. I still kept it though just in case.”

“Even after you thought I was dead?”

“You’re not the only person we’ve known to be presumed dead to still very much be alive. I didn’t want to give up hope. No matter how little it became.”

Y/N doesn’t know what to say to that. She looks back down to watch the others fight off the hunters. Most of the hunters are down so now is a good time to get to Kate.

“We should go now,” Y/N looks back at Tony.

“How are we doing this?” Tony asks, not sure how to carry Y/N.

“Can I just get on your back?”

Tony flies off the tree and hovers in front of Y/N with his back turned toward her, “Let’s go.”

Y/N pulls herself away from the tree and climbs onto Tony’s back. A small smile appears on her face as it reminds her of the piggyback rides her dad, the sheriff, used to give her all the time as a kid before they lost her mom. As Tony takes off toward the safe house, she wonders if Tony or the others ever used to carry her like this when she was younger.

Y/N holds on tighter to Tony as he crashes into the middle of the house. Once Tony has landed on the ground, she hops off his back and surveys her surroundings. They landed in what appeared to be the living room but there was no one around. There’s no one shooting at them, charging at them, or even watching them. They are completely alone.

“Why is no one here?” Tony asks, his blasters ready just in case.

“I don’t know…” Looking around Y/N can see weapons and ammo everywhere. On the wall, she can see pictures of herself and all her friends. There’s even some of the Avengers. There’s a large blood stain on the floor but there is nobody. Whose blood is it?

It’s also quiet. Too quiet. If she listens in she can hear the others fighting, but it’s quiet in the house. Kate must be hiding somewhere. If there’s one thing Y/N knows about the Argents, it’s that they love a good basement moment. That’s probably where Kate is hiding out. And if she’s hiding then she knows she’s outmatched. She knows they’re losing.

As she turns to look at Tony, a body flies through the living room window. Y/N jumps back and is ready to attack until she notices who it is.

“Isaac?”

Isaac groans in pain but makes no move to get up off the floor, “Hey Y/N.”

“H-how? What?”

“Scott told me everything so we came to help.”

“We?”

As Isaac goes to answer, a girl with a crossbow steps through the broken window, “Isaac?!” She starts shooting toward something Y/N can’t see.

“Braeden?”

“Who are these people?” Tony asks Y/N.

“He’s a friend and she’s…” Y/N pauses as she thinks of a way to describe who Braeden is, “she’s a friend of Derek.”

Isaac snorts, “Yeah, a friend.”

Y/N kicks Isaac’s arm at his comment, “What’s happening out there? How’d you go through the window? Why haven’t you got up?”

“I can’t really move.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N crouches down next to Isaac in concern.

“We aren’t the only ones who know a kanima apparently.”

Y/N rolls Isaac onto his side and looks at the scratch on his neck. She can see some of the venom still dripping from the wound.

“Who else has been affected by it?” Y/N asks, laying Isaac back down on his back.

“Scott was protecting a guy on the ground with a shield when I found them,” Braeden replies, walking over to them.

Tony curses under his breath, “Should we help them?”

“Kira and two other girls are currently helping Scott.”

Y/N turns her head to the broken window as she hears a loud roar. It sounded like Scott but she’s not sure.

“Is it just the kanima they’re fighting?” Y/N asks.

“No, there’s Berserkers as well. Four of them.”

Y/N stands up and looks at Tony, “Stay here and help them. I’ve got Kate.”

“You’re not going alone,” Tony states. He’s not going to abandon his daughter. He’s here to protect her.

“They need your help more than I do. If the Kanima takes more of them down, they will all be dead. Help them.”

Tony hesitates for a moment before agreeing, “Fine, but then I’m coming back to help you.”

“Fine. I’ll probably be in the basement. At least that’s where I'm assuming she is.”

Tony looks like he’s going to hug her for a moment before flying out through the broken window. Y/N can hear when he finds the others.

“So that’s your dad huh?” Isaac says with a small smirk on his face.

Y/N rolls her eyes and huffs, “Shut up.” Her radio sparks to life and she can hear Chris Argent calling for Stiles. The Anuk-Ite must be near them. Y/N turns to Braeden, “I’ve got Kate. Make sure he stays alive.”

Y/N flicks her claws out as she checks all of the doors to see if any lead into the basement. When she opens the fourth door, she sees stairs leading down into another room. She walks down slowly until she reaches the bottom.

Looking around, the stairs seemed to have led her to a hallway instead of a room. There are four different doors and she doesn’t know what’s behind any of them. There’s a long ugly rug that runs throughout the middle of the hallway. It looks out of place in the modern-looking hallway.

She’s about to open the first door when she notices the end of the rug is flipped up as if someone tripped over it. That’s when she notices something behind it. Moving the rug with her foot, she finds an escape hatch.

Y/N bends down and opens the hatch. Not seeing anything dangerous, she jumps down into what seems to be a tunnel. Looking down at the ground, she can see a single set of footprints leading away from her.

She follows the footsteps until she gets to the end of the tunnel. She notices a small ladder leading up to another hatch. Y/N climbs up the ladder and slowly opens the hatch. It takes her a second to realize where she is. She’s next to an old lake her mom used to take her and Stiles to during the summer.

Climbing out of the tunnel, she looks around for Kate. She knows she’s here but she can’t seem to see her.

“Kate! I know you’re here!” Y/N yells out.

As she moves to look around, a bear trap snaps around her right ankle. Screaming out in pain, Y/N falls to the ground.

“I was wondering when you would show up, but I’m surprised you showed up alone.” Y/N whips her head around to see Kate slowly walking up to her with twenty other hunters and two Berserkers behind her.

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

@vicmc624 @mrspetxrs @freyathehuntress @fheresm @stefans-wife @llamaproblem @taketimeandappreciate @youralphawolf72 @ornella0910 @shedsblood @ts1mp0ne @beautifulgrungekid @emily-roberts @danielle-leah1997 @itmejado @me-unitentionally @iv3t @james-bucky-barnes-bitch @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @darkenwolfie @inyourmomsworld @lokiandbuckywife @xx-narcissa @elite4cekalyma @thecrazytealady @ladyjenjay @misshale21 @cevans-winchester @fayhay14 @wtfcas @spencerreidsbookclub @depressedsleepysloth @hinata7346 @randomhoex @mirakeul @n1ght5h4d3-24 @allthingsavenger-y @belovacc @speedy-object-dream @pepelachanel @dark-night-sky-99 @missnyxsblog @xoxoloverb @ilearnedthatfromethepizzaman @kingshitonly @isnt-itstrange @twsssmlmaa @navs-bhat @zealouspostwitch @saahmi @distantsighs @jayxxace @a--1--1--3 @cutelittlepurplesouls @mermaid--dreamer-blog @maliagurl @peterpangirl21 @kneelforloki @slutformaddyperez @teenybean @small-town-wayward-daughter @labellapeaky @dabria14 @geeksareunique @emma-is-a-nerd @teen-wolf-fan @zzsloth @burn1ngw00d @esposadomd @natashamea18

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icee133 · 2 months

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This is part 4 of my ongoing Marionette series. I figured I'd answer this here as someone asked about it. I called her "Nette" as a shortened version of Marionette. Kinda like 'the radio demon' it's just her title. Hope you guys enjoy this part. Sorry for any writing errors 🤍

If you would like to be added to taglist let me know!

The Marionette

Part One, Part Two, Part 3, Part 4 🤍

Word count for this part: 1838. Enjoy! 👻👻

Synapsis:

A new overlord has manifested in hell seemingly overnight. One that overpowered many if not all of the current overlords in all the right ways. Will this overlord use her powers for good to help the members of the hotel? Will she fall in love with a man and end up in a loving gentle relationship? Or will she get her heart broken and turn against them all, burning each bridge she meticulously made.

The Marionette is a heart wrenching fic with many turns you won't see coming. Stay tuned for each of the episodes as they are released.

¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯

The marionette turned swiftly, taking a few steps forwards then turned to face the 3 boys kneeling on the ground. She squatted down to eye level with them before pulling on each of their chains towards her. “I told you all to behave on the trip over here. I suggest we quickly remember exactly what that means. Now sit on the couch and wait until you’re told to do otherwise. Understand?” She growled out at them. Releasing them they all stood moving towards the couch where they sat down quickly so as to not anger their mama further. Nette turned towards the gentlemen and princess before saying “I will fix the damage done to the building, Charlie if you could lead me there that would be great.” “Of course” Charlie said, walking towards the hallway with Nette following behind her. The men in the main area followed the 2 women with their eyes. Confusion setting in as the overlord didn’t allow another second for argument about the task. Just simply stated she was going to do it and walked away. ‘That woman has balls’ Lucifer found himself thinking.

Down the hallway the 2 females walked in silence. Charlie not wanting to upset the overlord anymore than she obviously already was, but also worried she might not want to hear about the hotel anymore. “Apologies for my suddenness back there, I try not to raise my voice because I don’t like violence. But my boys tend to think themselves unstoppable and like to pick fights with anyone if it means they can prove their strength. Sometimes I have to remind them that just because they’re down here does not mean they can’t die again.” Charlie opened the door to a room before walking in. Nette following closely behind her. Upon entering Nette realized this must be the room that took the most damage. “It’s okay, I understand you’re worried about your children, as most parents are” she said to the overlord walking to switch on the lights. Nette quickly set her cane down, and walked towards the blown out section of the wall before untying a cobalt blue string from her wrist. She began using it to essentially ‘stitch’ the wall back into place. Pulling each piece up and putting the wall together like a puzzle. Every piece had a place and Each piece in its place. The strings were light with their movement easily lifting even the largest of pieces of the wall and dusting the smaller pieces back together. Charlie watched in awe as she hadn’t seen anything like this before. The strings were almost lucid. Like they had minds of their own, floating around moving with an almost musical approach. She thought it was beautiful.

Nette snapped her out of her trance when she began talking “ yes I protect them, but I’m worried they will get themselves into trouble in which I won’t be able to. And attempting to fight the king of hell isn’t something I ever want them trying to do. No matter how bad things get, or how things turn out I don’t want to see them walk that path.” Nette said with a strained face. Charlie could tell this overlord cared truly and deeply for the boys she called her own. She protected them with every fiber of her being and would do so no matter the cost. “You truly care for them” “with every fiber of my being” Nette said carefully. “Well enough of that, why don’t you tell me about this ‘hotel’ you guys are running here?” Nette said as her strings were putting together the small last part of the wall. “Of course! So the hotel is called the Hazbin Hotel. We are working towards redeeming sinners so they can get into heaven. So far we have been working on trust, and love, as well as caring for other people. We have made a lot of progress in terms of the sinners that are staying here.” Charlie said proudly, smiling the whole time. Nette could immediately tell she was very passionate about this project and about helping sinners. “Have you managed to get anyone into heaven?” Nette asked curiously. “Well no but we have managed to find out a little more about what gets a person into heaven so we are working on that for now.” “If you are trying to help sinners get into heaven why not ask the angels for help?” The question made Charlie’s skin crawl a bit. “Heaven is not as easy as you may think. We went there and spoke to a seraphim in front of a court to plead our case and it did not turn out well. It caused for the next extermination that took place to be targeting our hotel specifically. Which led to us losing a member of our family here at the hotel. He gave his life trying to protect us, and we are forever grateful for him.”

“Hmm well can I give my opinion on the matter?” Nette carefully said. “Of course” Charlie looked right at her. “What if you're asking the wrong people for help? Angels such as seraphim are heaven born. They’ve never experienced life on earth. Living through a time where things are hard and you have to do things to survive. They’ve never gone through that. So why would you ask them what gets someone into heaven? It’s like asking a Sin down here what gets someone into hell- Granted that might be an easier question for them to answer- they’d have a hard time telling you because they’ve never lived a life on earth. Shouldn’t you ask the souls who ended up in heaven what happened during their lives that made them get into heaven?” Charlie looked at her for a second before standing abruptly. “Why didn’t I ever think of that! Of course, angels born in heaven wouldn’t know what gets someone into heaven. All they’ve ever known is what has been told and taught to them there.” She began walking out the room quickly before coming back in and gesturing for Nette to follow her.

Nette stood and walked behind her back to the living area. Quickly glancing back at the wall to ensure it was fixed completely. Upon looking at it she couldn’t tell the wall was ever damaged to begin with. Walking back into the living room, Nette saw that the boys were still seated on the couch but seemed to be glaring at both the king of hell and the radio demon just the same. Charlie then quickly announced “hey guys come here for a sec” Each member of the hotel walked back into the main area and took a seat waiting to hear what Charlie was so excited about. “We were talking in the other room and -sorry what do we call you?” “Nette is fine” “okay well Nette had a very good idea about the hotel. In terms of figuring out what causes a person to get into heaven. Why not ask the people who made it into heaven what their life was like so comparisons can be made and we can see what each of you has to do in order to get there.” “That actually makes a lot of sense babe, but how exactly are we gonna talk to someone who made it to heaven. We all know how our visit to heaven went last time” Vaggie said. “Yes, that's the one part we have to work out is how exactly we are going to talk to one of the souls.” Charlie said then sat down and began thinking. “In the meantime Nette would you want to stay at the hotel with us? We could really use your help if you are willing to” Charlie said to the blue-hued overlord who was standing behind her sons.

Nette turned to her sons, thinking quietly to herself. Would this really help? What could she even help with at the hotel? Of course she had to go off and open her stupid mouth about something and end up in this weird situation. Living alongside not only the radio demon, but both the princess and king of hell as well. But then again they wouldn’t have to pay such expensive rent, and each of the boys would get their own rooms. Which means no more fighting about who gets to use the shower first. The issue might lie in the fact the boys play games so often and bringing a newer model TV might be out of the question considering the asshole of a tv overlord. But in the end Wouldn’t this just be the best option for them? It provides security as well as safety knowing so many powerful people live under the same roof. Nette sat pondering over the options of the hotel comparing their current life to the one they would possibly have at the hotel. Quietly Charlie hoped they would say yes. Not only are her strings powerful but it was obvious her contracts were as well. This overlord was one that might be able to help against the Vees should that time ever come. “I don’t know…” Nette looked at each of her sons seemingly asking their opinion on the matter. The others couldn’t tell but each of the boys could talk to their mama through the string connected to their wrists. So they all had their hands on the string discussing the pros and cons about moving. Kai then said out loud “I wouldn’t mind it, doesn’t seem too bad of an option” followed by Alex smacking him and saying “well it’s not your decision” Nette turned to face Charlie directly and said “I think we might just take you up on your offer, but I’m sure the boys have many questions about what they are and are not allowed to bring with them.” Charlie smiled warmly and nodded quickly signaling she didn’t mind discussing rules and the like of the hotel. The group began discussing what things the boys have, and cracking jokes about the stupid things they would bring with them.

Nette found herself smiling as her boys seemed to get along rather well with Nifty and Angel. Hopefully things go well from now on and they can learn to get along with both the red-haired overlord and prideful king. For now anyway they would have to figure out a way to get things moved into the hotel. But Nette figured that conversation could wait till a bit later as she couldn’t bring herself to tear her boys away from the group who were laughing and talking about random things. Nette turned and saw Alastor standing just past the doorway into the kitchen. Slowly he made eye contact with her, giving her a look and then walking into the kitchen. Nette knew what that meant. He wanted to talk to her alone, but what could he possibly want with her? She’d have to go into the kitchen to find out.

Taglist:

@popamolly @preciousbabypeter

#hazbin hotel #alastor #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin husker #hazbin lucifer #huskerdust #lucifer morningstar #marionette

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hiemaldesirae · 2 months

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Ok this is my second attempt at this prompt so the writing is probably not that good but what if Vox and Alastor had their first real fight because of Alastor’s treatment of husk bare with me

Vox goes to the hotel to check it out but when gets there he doesn’t see anyone so he just looks around and as he’s looking around he sees a bar and he sees Husk running the bar. Vox gets really excited about this it’s been so long since he last heard from his old mentor not since his deal with Alastor. Vox goes up to bar to finally talk to Husk but something stops him in his track now that Vox is close enough to get good look at him he notices how different he looked his clothes are scuffed and his hair is a mess not to mention his movement are sloppy like he’s constantly tired. Something’s up with husk and Vox will get to the bottom of it if it’s last thing he’ll do. By the time Vox got to the bar Husk had already prepared him his drink the fact that he still remembered what he liked after all these years filled Vox with a warm feeling. The conversation went on for hours both of them telling stories about the time they spent apart as well as the reminiscing about the moments they shared together it felt good it has been sometime since they had last spoken and it felt like no time passed at all it felt so good that husk forgot to filter what he was saying and he ended making an off hand comment about how Alastor’s been treating him now luckily all of the other hotel residents were already asleep because that would’ve been a disaster if they weren’t but still that doesn’t make this any better Vox has always been one of the last things keeping Alastor together so if he left who knows what would happen. Vox hasn’t said a word everything just went quiet it stayed like that for what felt like hours the silence only breaking when someone arrived right on cue Alastor walks in but before he can even say a word Vox is already dragging him into a random room as Husk watches nervously. Vox is smart he knows not to anger the radio demon he’ll be fine right? That hopeful thinking was immediately trashed when he started hearing yelling growing louder and louder so loud infact that the others were waking up even Lucifer came down to check if anything was wrong they all went to Husk asking if he knew what was going on but Husk was too worried really give them a answer the only thing he’s willing to say is Alastor sparking Lucifer to go on a rant . The fighting lasted for a while before Vox opened the door and storming out followed by Alastor who’s missing his iconic smile instead it being replaced by a scowl. Alastor without his smile is unnatural as creepy as his always smiling face is it’s at least somewhat normal once you get used to it but this was just wrong. No one would dare say word all either too scared are unnerved to say a thing “sooo” all except Lucifer of course “trouble in paradise?”

ough. ruh roh.......... trouble in paradise indeed

this is so good nonny. really. Guys. you have to consider writing these out. or at least detail them more to me... please.... i am but a starving victorian child and this is the last thing i will see before my tragic death at the age of 7 (but you can save me by feeding me more radiostatic morsels)

anyway. ahem. sorry i dont know what just happened i think i got possessed by sir pentious- the idea of vox and al's first real fight after they make up being over his treatment of husk is just. you know what thats so real to me. because like radiostatics general (Canon because if its ME writing ill make sure to make them sappy as shit) dynamic is like, ill treat you like shit and youll treat me like shit but in the end you're mine and im yours and thatll never change- but that only applies to THEM. if vox catches al treating his previous mentor (cough father figure cough) like that it is On Sight because first of all, thats HUSK. thats the guy who taught him like basically everything he knows, almost raised him in hell and on the path to being an overlord- and also, does this mean al would pay more attention to torturing husk than he would to vox? because thats just- unacceptable. honestly. so its just so funny if vox like storms out in a fury and whisks husk away to the vees tower or something and profusely ignores alastor and their dynamic gets reversed all because vox learns about the way al treats his thralls (DESERVED)

#ran rambles #hazbin hotel #general asks #radiostatic #dad!husk

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dumplingsjinson · 1 year

Text

List of “pov: you were ghosted” prompts

“I don’t go on the social media platforms you frequent anymore, because I don’t want to be reminded of how you went completely silent on me, but I also don’t want to block you for reasons still unknown to me. Maybe a small part of me hopes you’ll talk to me again, because there’s no way in hell I’m reaching out and embarrassing myself like that.”

“I don’t want to block you, simply because I don’t want you thinking I care enough about you to desperately seek out a way to not be reminded that you’re still somehow in my life. But I care. I care a fucktonne more than I want to. And I’m sorry to myself for caring more than I’d ever admit to any living person out there.”

“Let me remind you of this, in case you’ve forgotten: You ghosted me. So no, I’m not going to entertain you… At least that’s what I tell myself, because we both know I’m going to end up caving anyway. So, how have you been?”

“Lesson learned: someone who keeps telling you they won’t ghost you will probably eventually ghost you.”

“You ghost me once, shame on you. Ghost me twice, shame on me. Wish I wasn’t in the latter category.”

“You could have fucking told me, plain and simple, that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore! At least that would be better than you ghosting me like a fucking coward. You didn’t even give me the closure I deserve, so what makes you think I’d want to talk to you again?”

“You ghosted me because you caught feelings for me, instead of telling me you caught feelings so we can work this shit out together? Fuck off and fuck you.”

“Instead of rejecting me, you ghosted me. That tells me more about you as a person than it does about myself, and I’m very glad you showed yourself out of my life, even if it’s in the worst way possible; even though it has caused me some sort of emotional fucking damage throughout it all.”

“I think I’m happier without you, so thanks for leaving me alone, even if it did sting at the beginning. I thought something was wrong with me, but I don’t think that’s the case anymore.”

“Why don’t I trust you anymore? The fact that you have the gall to ask that says a lot about you, you piece of cowardly shit.”

“But of course, me giving you a piece of myself only to be met with permanent silence doesn’t hurt. At all. I’m fine. No, seriously, I’m… Fine.”

“I think it’s pretty pathetic to realise that I’d take you back if you text me again, out of no where, with just a simple hello.”

“So you decide to message me again after you hit me with the long-term radio silence? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I reserve the rights to not forgive you after you decide to cut me out of your life without saying anything.”

“You chose to leave me without an explanation, so I’m choosing not to take you back.”

“You matter to me—” “I mattered to you, up to the moment you decided I had no use to you and discarded me like trash… By acting like I never existed.”

“I spent all of this time thinking I did something wrong, but it turns out it was a you problem.”

“You pulled away because you thought I was going to do the same, instead of, you know, communicating that with me so we could work through your worries together?”

“You feel guilty? Well, I hope you carry that guilt with you for a very long time. Don’t do this to anyone else.”

“You erased yourself from my life, so why do you think I’d let you draw yourself back in?”

#long post #ghosting prompts #this isn’t too personal HAHA but it’s like a fear of mine ngl #angst prompts #dialogue prompts #prompts #otp prompts #writing prompts

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captain-mj · 1 year

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I know I already sent a Körangi ask, but the selkie!Soap and changeling!Ghost au won’t leave my brain.

The amount of angst possible for these two in it is just aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah u feel me? Like for example, imagine on a mission Soap has been talking non-stop, flirting making jokes and Ghost tells him to shut up. HE WOULD HAVE TO SHUT UP!! Ghost would probably think Soap‘s being petty until he asks for a sitrep or something and Soap has to stay silent. Ghost grows more and more panicked until he says something like "goddamn it, talk to me, Johnny!" (if it’s the good ending yknow) and Soap can finally talk again.

The bad ending would obviously be Soap getting into trouble and being unable to ask for help :)

Genius take, hell yeah (this takes place at some random part in the timeline lol)

Soap had been... particularly good at taking orders lately. Ghost had picked up on it and he thought it was pretty odd, but nothing he was really worried about it. It made missions easier, knowing Johnny would actually follow his orders for once.

This mission required Ghost to be focused and that was becoming increasingly hard.

"I'm just asking if your career ever comes up."

"You asked if it comes up in the bedroom. Bit different of an ask."

"Yeah. I mean with the mask and the knives and the ability to tie someone up and..."

"Soap, stop talking." Ghost growled, pleasantly surprised when Soap did in fact stop talking. Complete silence flooded the coms and that meant Ghost could focus on aiming.

He heard gunshots. Dozens of them. He waited for it to die down to ask. "Soap, sitrep?"

More silence.

"Soap, sitrep?" Ghost sighed. He swore if he was being an ass over him telling him to shut up. "Johnny. Sitrep. Are you solid?"

There was still nothing.

Ghost started to sweep the area with his scope, trying to find him. He ignored the growing anxiety that something was very wrong. There was an odd sensation across his own mouth, like someone was holding their hand over it.

"Johnny, what's going on? Are you compromised?"

Soap's heavy breathing came over the coms but he still wasn't speaking. Why wasn't he speaking? Ghost looked around more.

"I'll cover you. I just need to know where you are." Ghost could hear the distress in his own voice. "Soa-"

A gunshot shattered the air. It came through the comms this time. Ghost suddenly felt very sick.

"Johnny? Please, sitrep." He heard it. The panic in his voice. If this was anyone else, he'd like to think he could keep it under control, but this was Soap.

No response.

"I'm going to kick your ass when you get up here. You better fucking get up here." Ghost spotted him. He was holding his side, blood dripping. Maybe his radio was damaged.

One of the men started to round the corner, gun moving up. Ghost put a bullet through their brain before they got the chance.

He went under the assumption the radio was broken, not bothering to speak. From his position, he cleared a fucking trial. Soap was smart enough to follow.

MacTavish crawled his way through everyone and ended up right at Ghost's side again.

Ghost resisted the urge to throttle the man or hug him since they were still in an active battle situation.

"Radio busted?" It didn't look broken, but it wasn't always obvious.

Soap stared at him, mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Johnny?"

Soap had his hand over his wound and just stared.

Ghost moved closer and lifted his shirt to look at the wound. He put his hand on his other side and looked at him closely. The wound looked bad, but maybe that was why he was being quiet.

"Are you okay? Nod for me if you're okay."

Soap nodded slowly. He stared at Ghost.

"Johnny, please talk to me."

Soap let out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, sir."

Ghost hit his shoulder hard. "Save it. Let's get out of here."

"Si..." Soap went to explain.

"Shut up and get to evac."

"...yes, sir."

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2

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gaysullengirl · 1 month

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𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐱. 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

❝ memories are something even smoking

weed does not replace ❞ - noah kahan, stick season

knock, knock, knock.

"Come in, sweet pea!" Penelope's voice called from the other side of the thick wood door.

Isabelle pushed it open, Penelope's facial expression changed when she realized it was Isabelle.

"Oh! I thought you were Emily, sorry." She smiled, even though Isabelle wasn't the person Penelope was expecting she still seemed happy to see her.

"Can we talk for a sec?" She asked and shut the door softly behind her.

"Of course."

Isabelle shifted uncomfortably, "Can you look someone up for me?"

"Mhm! is this an old case you worked?" Penelope swung her chair around, the lights from the computer illuminated her face.

"Uh, no." She replied, Penelope expecting the brunette to go into further detail- but she didn't.

"Her name is Juliana Cruz."

"Ok, let's see here." Penelope said enthusiastically and the sounds of typing filled the room.

"Found her! Juliana Cruz, all activity on her phone and bank account went radio silent four years ago, but she's never been reported missing." Penelope relayed with confusion filling her voice.

"Is she your sister?"

Isabelle stayed silent for a moment, "You can't tell anyone about her or her disappearance, especially not Spencer." She ordered.

Isabelle didn't want to do this to Garcia- but she was desperate, after years of being at the nypd and searching up her sister she found nothing, this was an opportunity to find out what happened to Juliana.

୨୧

Isabelle sat at her desk, filling out paperwork from the case and eating an apple, she glanced to the elevator and saw penelope handing spencer a file.

she immediately knew what was in the file, and her eyes widened.

Luckily it was now four fifty, if isabelle could avoid spencer for ten more minutes she wouldn't have to deal with it until monday

maybe it was a force of habit or maybe it was a trait she inherited from her father- put anything off until the last possible moment.

What's the best way to avoid talking to someone? leave

Isabelle packed up quickly and left the building she texted aaron that she was having a family emergency and silenced her phone.

୨୧

Spencer knocked on Isabelle's door three times in a row and heard nothing, no shifting from inside the apartment, no talking.

Normally he would just leave but he had called her multiple times and she didn't answer.

He looked down to her door mat 'No she's not stupid enough to hid her key under the door mat' He thought, then he looked up to the light fixture above her door.

He reached his hand on top of it and felt around for a key, he felt a bump and picked at the tape over it.

He grabbed the key and unlocked her door, "Isabelle are you okay?" He asked, searching the apartment for her,

he searched the bedroom and saw nothing, and the same in the bathroom.

Her apartment was open concept so she couldn't hide anywhere, he felt a cold breeze against his back and turned around.

The window in the kitchen that lead to the fire escape was open, he carefully climbed out of it and up the fire escape.

He sighed in relief when he saw Isabelle sitting on the roof.

"What are you doing here?" She asked urgently, the only thing running through her mind being 'shit shit shit.'

"Sorry I just came to check on you and got worried when I didn't hear you." He responded.

"You came here to check on me?" She asked, Spencer just nodded.

She brought a joint to her lips and inhaled, "Are you smoking?" Spencer asked and walked closer, she nodded her head, "Weed." "Are FBI agents even allowed to smoke?" "Yea, it's legal."

He sat down next to her on the cold concrete and breathed in the smell of weed causing him to scrunch his nose.

"Do you like the smell?" Isabelle asked even though she already knew the answer "No."

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, staring into her brown eyes, "Why do you ask?" She questioned, but didn't move her gaze.

"Last night, you didn't seem okay, you were practically begging me to hate you and-" Spencer cut himself off, deciding not to bring up her sister so early.

"I'm fine."

"What about the marijuana? I remember you telling me you would never smoke again after high school." "I don't know, people change."

He scoffed, "I know that."

"Then why'd you bring up what I said?" "I don't know, I just wanna make sure you're okay." "More than 106,000 people die per year due to drug related overdoses."

"It's weed, it's not gonna kill me."

"I know but marijuana can lead to stronger drugs." Spencer said softly.

"I know people use it to- you know numb pain or escape reality."

Isabelle stared at Spencer, he quickly reached to his forearm and itched it, which Isabelle would have noticed if her mind weren't preoccupied- or if she weren't high.

The two sat in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the wind and the distant police sirens.

The gentle breeze blowing through Isabelle hair remained Spencer of how much he adored it, her hair was between wavy and curly, and complimented her face perfectly.

Isabelle glanced to Spencer hand, out of habit she wanted to reach over and grab it but held back, if she let herself she would've melted into his arms.

"What did Penelope tell you?"

"That there's been no trace of Juliana since four years ago which coincidentally was a week before you broke up with me."

Isabelle scoffed, "You're seriously bringing that up bright now?"

Spencer looked down, "Sorry, you're right I shouldn't have brought that up."

"Is there anything I can do? We can tell the team and we can look for her-"

"No."

"What, why?" Spencer scooted closer to Isabelle and rubbed her back.

"She called me a year after she disappeared, from a phone and said she didn't want to be found and that I should just move on."

Isabelle fought back tears, she hated showing emotion, she despised the idea of anyone thinking she was weak or delicate.

authors note!

thank you so much for reading!

#jade’s works ⋆·˚ ༘ *#gay sullen girl #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fbi #fbi agent #alexa demie #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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jakegooglyeyes · 6 months

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Emblem of Roses - 5

Hi, everyone, sorry for the radio silence. I have been dealing with a lot of issues in my life, with both my health and my job. I'm doing better now, so don't worry. I'll try to keep Emblem of Roses updated more regularly from now on. Thank you for everyone's support and patience. Your asks and messages meant a lot to me and they really pulled me through a tough time.

Special thanks to @gyllenhaalstories for countless encouragement and beautiful wishes.

Pairings: Jake Gyllenhaal x reader, Maggie Gyllenhaal x reader (Medieval AU)

Summary: You were content with your quiet life as an illegitimate daughter of the King, hanging out with the maids and learning your craft. All that ended when your father married you to Lord Gyllenhaal, the Usurper, as a peace offering and a hostage.

Word count: 5,400

Warnings: 18+ MINOR DNI , RPF, DUBCON, angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, hate to pining, polyamory, slow burn with smut, political marriage, mean!Jake to pining!Jake, cunning!Maggie, kind!reader.

*** Your online experience is your responsibility. You have been warned. If any of these content upsets you, DO NOT READ!!! ***

Divider credit: @/firefly-graphics

"Who are you?"

Lady Maggie's voice turns cold and distant. An immense presence you have never felt corners you like a helpless animal. Your feet grow heavy as though they are chained to the ground. Thousands of thoughts race through your head as you contemplate how to respond to ensure your head will remain on your shoulders. Ultimately, there is no other way but to speak the truth.

"I am the bastard daughter of the King." You try to still yourself, preventing the cracking in your voice.

Relief. In a split moment, that is all you feel, relieved that you no longer have to carry the burden of a lie. You tell them your given name, at which the Lady doesn't seem surprised, leaving you to wonder how much she has learned about you. And for how long.

"It is never my intention to deceive you. The King ordered me to marry Lord Gyllenhaal in the princess' stead. I was not given a choice, my Lord, my Lady." You attempt to look at the Lady in the eyes but quickly avert your gaze.

Lady Maggie eyes you like a hawk, searching for any sign of deception. You don't even want to know what kind of expression is on the Lord's face right now. The silence suffocates you like tangling vines. You hang your head low, making yourself appear as humble as possible. Now, you have said all that you can. Only Gods know if the Lord and Lady Gyllenhaal believe you. If they do not find your answer satisfactory, well, you fear your fate has been sealed.

"And you have no nefarious intentions? Another order by the King, perhaps." The Lady asks, her voice calm but grim. The cold glint of the dagger and the King's command flash through your head. There was indeed another order. One you would never have the courage to obey.

"Never, my Lady. I swear on my life that I never had a single ill intention." You reply, struggling to keep your voice from shaking. Your ears are ringing from the dread so much that you cannot even hear yourself speaking, only your thundering heartbeat. What you said is not a lie. You have no intention of taking anyone's life. You can only hope your nervousness doesn't make you seem guilty.

"No? So you are not spying on us?" The Lady's eyes gleam as she looks upon you with a mocking expression. Or it could have been her disappointment, not that you can discern what she thinks. "Well, I wonder why the Lord's little wife has been dressing as a servant and running all over the place."

As you hear the Lady's inquiry, you feel the life force being sucked out of your limbs. Blood is drained from your knuckles as you tighten your grip on the fabric of your dress. Being cast aside by the Lord has made you careless. You have guessed that the Lady knew all about your activities but were too foolish to realize how incriminating they were.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Lord frowns. It's not just you who are caught off guard. He is also stunned by Lady Maggie's revelation.

"Oh, my dear brother. You truly ought to spend more time with your wife." The Lady's tone is nonchalant, with a drop of sarcasm pointing toward her brother. She is not entirely pleased that her brother sees you as her responsibility.

"Who gave you permission to act freely within our premises?" The Lord demands an answer. His sharp tone and piercing gaze reveal his apparent distrust toward you, making you almost jump from your chair. "Speak!"

"I... I was merely trying to be useful during my presence here. I swear my motives are without malice." Another attempt to diffuse the Lord's hostility seems to be in vain.

In a brief moment, your eyes met with his. The creases between his brows remind you of the first time you saw him. It is the same hatred he always has for the royal family. The Lord's hand never leaves the dagger by his side. And you know, just one wrong word could cost you your insignificant little life.

"Do you truly expect us to believe the words of someone sent here by the King? How can we trust that you are not here to do his bidding?" The Lord questions your pleas. The idea of letting a spy run amok inside these walls makes him regret not being able to just sever your head right now and end all doubts. A quick swing of his blade for peace of mind? It is very tempting.

Ever the diplomat, Lady Maggie interferes after sensing the Lord's mounting thirst for blood. Her hand raises with grace in a gesture of restraint. "Rest assured, my Lord. My people have kept a watchful eye on her since her arrival. The girl can do no harm... even if she wants to."

You are somewhat thankful for Lady Maggie's intervention. Even if the Lady's scorn is carefully concealed in her sophistication, at the very least, she is more level-headed than her brother. However, it makes you wonder why she didn't deal with you or inform her brother sooner. Why force you to face him now?

You open your mouth, wanting to say something, but soon are cut off.

"Before you say anything, I wish to remind you that lying will not benefit you nor us." Lady Maggie raises her hand to shush you.

As you wonder about the Lady's implication, a steady footstep draws everyone's attention. The steward comes carrying something in her hand. The middle-aged woman leers at you before approaching her mistress, presenting Lady Maggie with the objects she has brought. The Lady nods in acknowledgment before dismissing her loyal servant.

You freeze in place, and your heart cannot stop drumming as you notice the familiar roll in the Lady's hand. You recognize the yellow hue of the parchment, the dry ink, and your very own unfinished sentences.

Your body is quicker than your brain as your composure crumbles, lunging forward, trying to take the letter from the Lady's hand. An act you greatly regret as soon as a tremendous force blocks your airway. You only have enough time to cast your fearful gaze over the Lord, who is closing his fingers around your throat with the intent to kill.

"I wonder who this 'mother' could be. I am quite flattered you speak so highly of our House, princess."

Lady Maggie's slender fingers brush across the material, unbothered by your predicament. Her casual remarks obscure the threats bubbling underneath a peaceful facade. You struggle to draw a breath, starting to feel light-headed as you try to claw at the grip on your neck. Even as your chest burns and your vision blurs, your eyes fixate on the parchment as you mouth the phrase "give it back."

As suddenly as it has started, the chokehold is gone. The Lord huffs with disapproval. His fingers loosen after his sister's discreet hand gesture. You fall on the ground, choking on your own spit as your body becomes greedy for fresh air. Your hand reaches out for the letter as if it were a lifeline. In a delirious state, you can only make out the embroidered hem of the Lady's dress. The patterns swirl in front of your eyes, digging out old memories you thought you had forgotten. In a dreamlike trance, you crawl to the Lady's feet, the cold stone floor beneath reminiscent of another time.

You are back at the King's castle once more. A long time ago. Before Mother was there. Before you could fight back. Tiny hands and bare feet, riddled with blisters and scabs. Groveling at someone's shoes, pleading for them to give you little food scraps. You no longer know what you are begging for, only an echoing desperation to protect your little peace.

Lady Maggie's demeanor shifts. Her feigning smile disappears as she looks down at you. While she has anticipated a response, the depth of your emotional upheaval catches even a seasoned strategist like her off guard, though she swiftly conceals her surprise. A delicate touch brushes under your chin. Lady Maggie lifts your face with deceptive grace.

"Now, care to enlighten us about the intended recipient of this letter?"

The coolness of her fingers brings you back to the present. Something in your head is gnawing at you, warning you to keep your secret. You do not understand. It should not matter whether you tell the Lady about your mother. And yet, you cannot help but feel a sense of dread, as if you were curling up, fearing you would be disemboweled by a great bear.

"I... it's... it's no concern of yours." You catch yourself stammering.

The Lady's smile widens, seemingly unoffended by your refusal to cooperate. "Oh, but I am genuinely curious. I did not mean to frighten you, my dear. It's my duty to know more about those under my care, after all."

As you hesitate, the Lord, who has been observing silently, interjects, "Get to the point! What are you trying to hide?"

The Lady shoots him a glance, a mix of annoyance and amusement dancing in her eyes. Ignoring her brother's impatience, she refocuses on you. "I promise, no harm intended. Just a little explanation to satisfy my curiosity."

You finally relent under the pressure.

"She's just an old healer, my Lady. She took me in and treated me like her own flesh and blood. I only write to ease her mind about my well-being."

The Lady shoots you an inquisitive eye that you cannot decipher. "Ah, the blood of the covenant is always thicker, is it not. I can only surmise your father wasn't particularly benevolent toward an illegitimate child."

You lower your gaze in response, your silence serving as a confirmation of the Lady's assumption. As she speaks, the Lord notices a rare glimmer of empathy in his sister's eyes. Well, even he pities you a little, not for whatever misery you went through but for the road you are being led down by his sister. He knows her well, and he understands her convoluted games even better. She pokes and prods until she uncovers people's weaknesses, then uses them to either control or break those who cross her path. But her showing guileless compassion? This is an unfamiliar territory even for him.

The silence lingers until a sudden knock echoes through the door, with the steward's voice soon following suit, announcing the arrival of the royal delegates. The Lord grimaces, a flicker of frustration crossing his features as he is not amused by the abrupt conclusion. He exchanges a secretive look with his sister before shifting his focus to you.

Lady Maggie nods at her brother, who maintains his ever-present frown. "Please escort your Lady to the Great Hall, my Lord. Let's not make our prestigious guests wait. I will join you later." Then, she turns to face you. Her words carry an unwavering seriousness, no pleasantries, no pretense.

"We'll resume this conversation when the timing is more fitting. However, bear in mind that whatever you were before, right now, you are Lord Gyllenhaal's wife. And every step you take will be subjected to scrutiny."

Your head lowers as you can only muster a quiet "Yes, my Lady" before the steward enters the chamber to help you back up on your feet. The Lady orders the woman to aid you in fixing your appearance into a more presentable state. Afterward, the steward leads you to the Lord, who awaits you in the hallway, seemingly lost in contemplation.

A swift glance is all he affords you before turning on his heel and taking long strides toward the Great Hall. That is your cue to follow. You make your best effort to keep up with the Lord's unforgiving pace but deliberately trail a few steps behind him, mindful not to stay too close. For whatever it's worth, you are grateful that he stays silent throughout the trip. His thoughts remain unknown to you while you take the time to admire the impressive breadth of his shoulders and his steadfast posture, reminiscent of a warrior marching to the battlefield.

On the way, you notice quite an unusual presence of heavily armed guards, roses insignia carved into their armor plates. The air is stagnant, and the festive mood of the previous days is replaced by caution. As the Lord and you approach the towering double doors of the Great Hall, your pulse quickens with the palpable uneasiness permeating the stone walls.

"Raise your head." A voice, as measured as it is unexpected, cuts through the silence. The Lord's command disrupts your thoughts, momentarily catching you off guard. It is the first time he has ever addressed you in such a manner, devoid of either contempt or revulsion. Instead, it reminds you of the words Lady Maggie told you last night.

Do not let anyone think that House Gyllenhaal is to be trifled with.

You are a lady of the House.

The Lord and Lady are indeed kin, you observe. They are different from each other in every way, and yet, at times, they are almost the same person.

As the heavy doors swing open and the servant loudly announces the Lord and his wife's arrival, you step into the grand chamber where the esteemed guests are waiting. Your eyes lock onto the royal delegates seated at the long table, their opulent attire embroidered in gold threads, contrasting the austere clothes worn by House Gyllenhaal's people. Two sides greet each other with false flattery, an intricate interplay of feigned courtesy and veiled intent.

The Lord leads you to the front, reserved for the heads of the family. His presence makes heads turn, though you can tell many of those gazes fall on you. This is only the second time you walk next to him as his wedded wife. You focus, keeping your posture poised and expression composed, trying to mirror the image he presents to his people and guests.

The delegates, sent by the King, rise from their seats and bow to the Lord in an exaggerated display of etiquette. Honeyed words drip from their lips, laden with poisonous insincerity. The Lord reciprocates with polite nods and faint smiles. You are somewhat surprised to see this stone wall of a man can be such a diplomat. Now that you think about it, he used to be a respected general in the King's court before the rebellion. He must have been no stranger to court intrigues.

Among the delegates, you catch the subtlest of glances, fleeting stares that linger for a heartbeat too long. You don't recognize anyone, but you have no doubt that a few of these nobles know your true identity as the King's bastard, a pathetic replacement for the real princess. Some of them can't even hide the condescension on their face. Even as they address you with the princess title, a trace of mockery flickers in their eyes.

"Your Highness, rest assured that we shall bring the news of your well-being to your father, the King. The magnificence of Goldenhall undoubtedly befits your greatness." One of the delegates gives praise, a middle-aged man whose smile, though broad, carries an underlying tone of sarcasm towards both you and House Gyllenhaal.

You hold your head high. Compared to the things you've heard, this is next to nothing compared to the spiteful words you heard. You reply with humility and ambiguity, avoiding saying too much as you have never had to participate in diplomatic affairs. It feels surreal to stand here on the same footing as the people who see your whole existence as a disgrace. Within these walls, they will not be so foolish to bare their fangs at you. You do not want to admit it, but you feel almost invulnerable with the Lord by your side, as strange as the idea is.

"Indeed, my wife is doing well. We are not the treacherous monsters who imprison and torture the guests coming into their homes." The Lord sneers with an edge to his voice, his words masking a touch of disgust. A wry smile appears as he raises his cup toward the delegate. The man returns the Lord's gesture with the same broad smile.

Before long, the musicians begin to play their songs, signaling that the feast has started. You finally get to see with your own eyes how the Lord and his people enjoy the festivity. Unlike the servants, whose idea of celebration is basically an abundance of food and drink, for the nobles, it involves people presenting their gifts and good wishes to the Lord's family. That, and the endless praises being thrown back and forth.

The whole event is exhausting. Your face and neck go stiff after having to smile and nod every other second. Even the Lord himself appears to be weary of the constant pleasantries. With the royal delegates' presence, he cannot allow himself to be reckless for even just a moment. One can tell Lady Maggie is definitely the more adept navigator of these delicate interactions.

Nonetheless, seeing how the Lord puts on such a courteous mask is very eye-opening. He appears to be much less threatening than he was during your wedding, that, or the wedding was much more miserable for him than practically anything else.

An old couple whose clothes are embellished with House Gyllenhaal symbols approaches, bearing a modest wooden box. With respect, they place the container before you, emitting a subtle fragrance of herbs. Inside the box are three rare flowers that exclusively grow far up north. The plants immediately pique your interest as you have only ever seen drawings in your mother's book.

"Milady, we hope you accept our humble offering. May you soon be blessed with the Lord's sweet fruit." The elderly woman speaks, her smile radiating warmth and kindness.

"Allow this old man to offer a piece of wisdom." Her husband, who seems to have had one too many drinks, turns to the Lord. "Children are important, yes, and hardly any pleasure in life can beat a woman's embrace. But please do not exert your wife. For the soil must be well tilted before the seeds can thrive." After his slight jest, the man holds his drink up to the Lord, provoking a chorus of laughter among the guests and a scolding from his elderly wife.

The words of the wife and husband send warmth surging to your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort. Surprisingly, the Lord appears unbothered, raising his cup to thank the couple for the gift. Instead, he leans over to you with his elbow on the armrest and his face resting lazily on his hand.

"My sister's handy work," He murmurs, his voice a hushed undertone meant only for your ears. You cast a quizzical glance in his direction, perplexed by his unexpected initiation of casual conversation. "I do not know what tall tales she has spun about you, but it seems to give the elders strange ideas," the Lord elaborates. "Whatever puts our elders at ease."

You don't know what to say, nor do you think the Lord wants your input. You have undoubtedly noticed a subtle shift in how you are regarded by House Gyllenhaal. Their caution around you still lingers, yet hatred has given way to a more neutral stance. You even receive the occasion curtsy from the lower-ranked members of the House.

The light of day in the winter is fleeting. Soon, the Hall begins to bask in the fuchsia hues of dusk. With a polite request, you ask permission to leave the chamber for fresh air, earning a nonchalant dismissive wave from the Lord.

As the chattering of the guests is left behind you, a moment of respite envelops your body and mind. In the crispness of the outside air, you finally find solace, and the pent-up breath you have been holding is released in a gentle exhale.

Without a destination in mind, you wander through the courtyard, feeling the chilling night air seeping through your clothes. In your solitude, your mind wrestles with your current situation. You have not forgotten the King's order to assassinate the Lord nor the threat hanging above your mother's life. But you have never had the gut or heart to commit such an act. You have no intention of taking anyone's life. And even if you did, getting the chance to do so would be an entirely different problem.

The mere thought of obeying the King's command sends shivers down your spine. The memories of your miserable life are hard to ignore. You want nothing but to stay far from this power struggle between House Gyllenhaal and the King, and to live your life in peace. But you understand with your circumstances right now, it is a luxury you know you cannot afford.

The letter is still in Lady Maggie's possession. Neither she nor her brother are going to simply trust your words. Your life under the King was pathetic, but people treated you with disregard, allowing you to just disappear. Here? You are, at best, a useless captive and, at worst, a threat. The only silver lining is when you are not playing the unwilling role of a princess, your life here is fine, good even.

A daring idea flashes through your mind. One doesn't have to be well-versed in politics to know that the peace between the King and House Gyllenhaal is incredibly fragile. This uneasy balance can shatter at any moment. When things come to that, you need to find a stable ground to stand on, and you know you will never achieve that by the King's side. Not that there was ever a place for you. If, and this is a big if, you are able to secure favor with House Gyllenhaal, it could guarantee your safety here and dispel a little bit of their ill will against you. Such an endeavor might improve your situation considerably. And then, maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to bring your mother here with you.

The problem? It's one thing to put on the servant's garb and duck your head to avoid being seen. It's another thing to actively support the King's enemy. Your sense of self-preservation keeps tugging at your soul. What terrible fate awaits you and your mother were the Gyllenhaal to fail? At times like this, you wish the old healer were here to tell you the right thing to do.

The biting cold reminds you that you must return to the feast soon. At least there is a large fire in there, you tell yourself. Looking around, you find yourself having wandered to the servants' quarter. The guards are spread thin in this part, and most servants are busy tending to the guests. You cup your hands over your mouth to warm them up before making your way back, not noticing a group of people wearing the King's symbols approaching.

"You are late, lady Maggie."

The Lord snorts, displaying his displeasure of being left alone fending against these diplomats. Lady Maggie lets out a hearty laugh, apologizing to the guests with a socially acceptable excuse. She then takes the seat beside the Lord, positioned opposite your now vacant chair. The Lord leans closer to his sister as the music and revelry shield their conversation from prying ears.

"What is it that you're scheming, sister?" The Lord inquires.

"Ah, is this about the girl?" The Lady lifts the cup to her lips, musing at her brother's annoyance. She takes a small sip, allowing the aromatic liquid to warm her from the inside. "Have you frightened her off, my Lord?"

The Lord scoffs at his sister's evasion of his question. "I am curious as to why you seem to take pity on her? Has House Gyllenhaal's ruthless strategist suddenly grown a conscience?"

The Lord expects his sister to retort with her usual witty remarks, but they are nowhere to be found. Instead, she falls into silence, pondering ideas only she herself knows of. After taking another sip of her drink, the Lady speaks in a soft voice while watching her distorted reflection within the ripples of the wine.

"Brother, I have been wondering. Would it not be easier to throw away something you do not want?" The Lady doesn't look up from her drink. She speaks as if to herself.

The Lord knows full well that she is speaking of you. He has not really given much thought about you unless he has to. However, his sister's question gives him pause. That's right. It should have been far simpler for the King to consign you to a family of peasants or abandon you in the forest. Why did he keep an illegitimate daughter all these years?

He glances at his sister, who is exchanging courtesies with several guests. He has so many questions but this place is not suitable for them. Well, he suspects Lady Maggie has already sent out her little ravens searching for information. This is not his domain to worry about, anyway. He never doubted his sister. When has she ever led him astray?

After all the ordeals you have gone through today, the last face you want to see is the one standing before you. You recognize this woman - the Head Maid from the King's castle, undoubtedly bringing back many unsavory memories.

"Oh my, isn't this our princess? Thriving, I see, unlike us humble servants." She stands at the forefront of a dozen servants brought here to serve the needs of the delegates, effectively blocking your path. You haven't seen them with their masters as they are not allowed in the Great Hall.

Wishing to avoid confrontation, you maintain a stoic expression, refusing to acknowledge her jibe, and press on, determined to walk past the group. However, a vicious force yanks on your arm, almost making you lose your balance. You glare at the Head Maid's chilling face. It reminds you of the past when her authority and cruelty loomed over you like a shadow.

"Why the rush, princess? Forgot your manners?" She sneers. The mockery in her voice sounds unpleasantly familiar.

Resisting the urge to retaliate and risk tarnishing the image of the Lord, you fume in silence, baffled by her audacity to assert power over you even beyond the castle walls. You are no longer the lowly bastard subjected to her whims.

You wince as she pinches your arm, something she often used to do any time she believed you were out of line, which is every time. As you attempt to push her away, a sinister grin twists the Head Maid's features as she deliberately invokes your mother's name.

"Well, well, princess. Perhaps you've forgotten the lessons I taught you." Her words are full of malicious intent, and her fingers dig into your arm like a crab's pincers. "I may be unable to teach you another lesson here, but mark my words. If you don't learn to behave, your mother will pay the price for your insolence."

Like a spark to dry hay, the threat ignites a torrent of anger within you. The frustrations of the day, the weight of your struggles, and the danger your mother has to face because of you all converge into an explosive outburst. You can no longer contain the seething rage that boils in your blood. Everyone wants something. You just want to be left alone.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you push the Head Maid away with a force that sends her tumbling into a freezing puddle. The unexpected defiance leaves the other servants stunned with disbelief. Clearly, the Head Maid's distasteful tales of your supposed powerlessness have given them the idea that you are underneath, and they never anticipated such resistance.

Some of them rush to help the sputtering woman up from the icy water, while others cautiously encircle you, uncertain what they should do. They look at each other with hesitation, for this place is not their territory, and your status is not exactly their equal.

"Make the bitch pay!" The Head Maid, shrieking at the other servants, declares that you must pay for your transgressions. The notion that even within the Gyllenhaal's fortress, the King's authority still holds sway takes root among royal servants. Tentatively, one of them reaches out to subdue you just as the guards arrive, alerted by the escalating commotion. However, they are not the only ones to have come.

The guards soon part to make the way for the Lord and the head of the delegates. You don't know how much of the unruly display the Lord has seen, but he has a look on his face you can only describe as "heads will roll tonight." You look down, fumbling with your dress, unsure what will befall you now.

The Head Maid, soaked and enraged, scurries to the delegate, seizing the opportunity to blame the altercation on you. She launches into a mad tirade, claiming the incident was an unprovoked attack when she was simply trying to greet you. A knot of anxiety tightens inside you as you can only stand there, unable to meet the Lord's gaze, grappling with the fear that your actions may have brought shame upon him.

"Come here." The Lord's voice cut through the wailing. Indeed, he sounds angry, but the anger is not directed at you. Furthermore, there is an underlying assurance in his words that steadies your racing heart. The chaos seems to recede as you approach him. His presence should be apprehensive but now oddly comforting.

"Tell me what happened?" He offers you a chance to defend your name, a gesture you did not expect. The residual rage clears your head, and the threat the Head Maid had made about your mother still rings fresh in your mind.

Rolling up your sleeves, you reveal the vivid red marks inflicted by the Head Maid, some even breaking the skin. "This woman attacked and threatened me. I had no choice but to defend myself,"

The Lord's brows knit together as he examines your injury. It seems his sister was right about your miserable life at the castle. He turns to the delegate, his voice grim. "Handle your people swiftly, or I'll deal with the perpetrator myself. I assure you, you will not like my methods."

Sensing the gravity of the situation, the delegate acts decisively. The delegate detests House Gyllenhaal, but he is not keen on upsetting them, at least not for the sake of a mere servant. The Head Maid's eyes widen at the turning tides. She opens her mouth to spew more of her venom but is immediately cut short with a resounding slap that almost causes her to fall again.

"Beg for the Lady's forgiveness, NOW!" The middle-aged nobleman orders.

The woman is flabbergasted. It finally clicks in her head that her master will not be on her side. The Head Maid reluctantly takes a step forward and bends her knees. Her usual arrogance crumbles, replaced by a forced submission. With a hesitating voice, she never imagined she would have to say to you, unwillingness evident in every syllable.

"I... I apologize, my Lady. I beg you to forgive my impudence." She mumbles insincere words.

"I want you gone." The words escape your mouth before you can rein them in. The metallic sound of a sword being unsheathed echoes, accompanied by the Head Maid's fearful cry. The Lord has drawn his sword and is aiming for the woman's neck. Realizing your sentence has been taken the wrong way, you catch the Lord's hand to prevent any more escalation.

"I... I mean, I want her out of my sight. I want her to leave the Keep." Desperation colors your voice as you tightly cling to the Lord's arm. He exhales sharply before sheathing his weapon in disappointment. The delegates had given him the urge to spill blood the whole evening, and he was really looking for an excuse, any excuse.

"I'll make sure this maid departs before dawn." The delegate rubs his hands together, relieved that this matter is finally resolved.

"Before midnight." The Lord commands.

One of Lady Maggie's servants comes forward, bringing a cape made of soft fur, and hands it to the Lord. He accepts the cape and drapes it over your shoulders, shielding you against the lingering chill. Of course, he completely ignores your sheer bewilderment. The unexpected gesture and the weight of the fur leave you awestruck.

"Return to your chamber. I'll have the physician look at your arm." The Lord instructs you. You are still so speechless that you can only nod. He then turns to the delegate and his servants, issuing a warning to those who even think about overstepping their boundaries.

"The moment she crosses those gates, she is no longer a princess or whatever she once was. She belongs to House Gyllenhaal and is under my protection. Tell your people to remember that."

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