#they make me so nauseous. he dies first and shes left to live alone and once she isnt alone shes killed for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kheta · 1 year

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The Life and Adventures of Severus Snape an Unwilling Isekai Protagonist

(TW: Death, suicide, mutilation, depression, torture.)

Basically just me putting Snape through Pain for about 5000 words.

Severus dies at 29 in his first life. Youngest Triple Master in all of Great Britain, right hand man to the Dark Lord himself, a legend to all but himself. They win the war, he kills Potter in their final skirmish against the Order, Dumbledore keeling over at Bella’s hyena-like screech and Lily laying in the dirt as she had for over five months now. The war is not the glory that had been touted through his school boy days. Instead Severus has the murder of an eight year old on his hands, a mercy kill perhaps, but one that has left him nauseous all the same.

Children were supposed to be protected, it was why he had followed Cyrus to this hellscape, why he had divested himself of his very soul, rotted to coal as it was. Death Eaters originally had a purpose, to protect the traditions of their ancestors, to protect all magical children from the uncouth Muggles who existed only to destabilise their communities.

But they had not protected anyone in their quest for glory. Cissy can no longer look at him, not when he stood there as their Lord, their Leader created a shell of her husband. Cissy refuses to look at him, Draco his godson, now forever cursed with scars from a bout of curiosity that laid him before the Dark Lord’s feet.

Indeed few had left the war unscathed. The turncoat Pettigrew dead in a fool-hardy Gryffindor act of courage, saving whatever remained of that infectious mutt. Avery and Evan, felled by some two-bit Auror. Andromeda the blood traitor, leaving behind an orphan child to be raised by Bella and her ilk. Nose-turned Tuney who used to make Severus and Lily cakes for their birthday each year until their fourteenth, dead only because her Brother-in-law had continued displeasing the Dark Lord. And him, morose and tainted and dark, alone at the shambles in Ends he called home.

There was no glory in bloodshed, no glory in the tainting of his soul. So it stands to reason that there is no glory in his death. He mumbles the killing curse as he has been doing since his sixteenth and greets death with the relief of a sorely missed friend.

This was not the end for Severus Snape.

He wakes warm, dark eyes flashing at him. To a crowd laughing at his humiliation.

Severus apologises to Lily in this lifetime. A whole flurry of nights spent looming outside her common room, waiting for a chance to see her whole. To see her alive. She does not accept, so he rids himself of her, falling back to Cyrus’ side.

He tries harder this time round, drops his DADA and Herbology Masteries so he can see the Death Eaters to their prosperous future. Reminds his friends of the true cause, to protect the future of magical Britain.

It works, for a while. Wilkes never betrays them, Cyrus lives on past Macdonald’s death. Bella never meets the Prewetts, does not lose herself to madness in the wake of Rastaban’s death and Rodolphus’ tightly-wound anger.

It is not enough. Evan dies, taking down as many Aurors as he can. Regulus disappears one day and the resulting snap of his lost magic against Black wards has Bellatrix seeking vengeance at every corner, honing her crucio into perfection.

Their cause crumbles once more, sooner this time around as Severus hears of a cursed prophecy that steers their forces towards children.

In this life, Severus reaches 38, almost ten years older than the last. The casualties in the first war is many and varied, Evan and Avery both still felled in battle. Tuney lives, as does Harry, the bitter reminder of fruitless glory. Lucius coos over his son as he grows, arrogant yet brilliant, a cocky head of blonde hair and soft questions at his godfather.

Bellatrix becomes a cackling madwoman, gone is the snide, rude friend-of-a-friend who would indulge him in battle and wine, leaving behind a cruel shade of the brilliant, loyal witch she was.

Seventeen years he spends protecting the life of a child who he has killed once already, just to sheperd him towards another death.

He knows not what happens to Harry Potter, only that the last thing he sees are eyes that glimmer in a harshly familiar way.

Again he is awakened, bereft of his clothing, a marionette strung up in the air.

He dies too young in his third life, all of twenty, wanting for too much. Playing hands too boldly.

Lily accepts his apologies in this lifetime, accepts him as he shoulders the blame for two lifetimes worth of mistakes. Accepts his humility even as he continues to scheme.

He loves Lily. But he loves Cyrus just as much. The cause for Death Eaters may well fall too soon, may be instead the reason for vitirol hate, but all the same these people who walk in the shadows are his friends. His family. While he knows now that he can never rid himself of the care he felt for Lily, he also knows he can never be free from the bonds he had made as a mouthy, ill-tempered, half-blooded Slytherin. Where Eileen had ignored his existence and Tobias had scorned it, the Slytherin's in his age group had relished in Severus and all of the anger he held. Had seen the abuse he suffered at the hands of people who had not cared for him correctly, yet stuck with him all the same.

But neutrality is only another word for cowardice in the blurry lines of war.

He slips a few times too many. Wants to save all the contained, fleeting moments of happiness he can for those he calls his.

The Order never come to offer him a place at their side, his friendship with Lily still too tenuous to guarantee his loyalty. This is fine with him because he has little loyalty to a side that fights with lofty goals. To a group of bullies and spectators and few truly kind, truly just people.

He denies the mark at every corner, always has an excuse at the ready even as he continues to support the side of Dark, continues to the soirées that mask their actual functions, funnelling information to Lily through thoughtless comments. His friend thinks herself a spy, looking at him with trepidation and guilt aplenty. He plays her as he does everyone else, each thought, each word carefully composed to his advantages. ‘I am not ready, I must complete my Masteries, I am not competent enough, there are potions and spells in need of patenting and an affiliation with the Death Eaters will surely ruin me politically.’ Perhaps he relies too much on the memories of companionship, for the pressure to join digs at each passing meeting.

Either way his lack of a mark, lack of a brand is what kills him. Voldemort is no longer the patient Master he had once been, he takes care to make an example of Severus and his reticence, his disloyalty. Regulus is green as he watches, hands unnaturally still. Lucius is as pale as he had been the second time around, freshly from Azkaban. Bellatrix keeps her lips pursed, eyes far away in the telltale sign of occlusion, she's not lost in the famed Black madness just yet, has toed the line of love, lust and power but not yet crossed it. Cyrus does not look at him at all. Rodulphus the smug bastard grins the whole time. Severus dies in a matter of hours, the pain sharp and slow and seemingly never ending.

A shout of Snivellous, a whip of air tight in his lungs.

Severus is once more cursed with life.

Something inside of him begins to give way, fractured and aching and lounging in the Dark. He has loved Cyrus for three lifetimes now, has wanted so badly for the Dark Lord's vision of an equal, singular world of shared magic to come to fruition. Instead he closes his eyes to visions, to shadows of his friends dying, tortured and lost. To a crumbling system that time and time again put the brutality of mercy-killing children to the forefront of their crusade. He has loved Cyrus three times over and three times over Cyrus has loved Macdonald, has signed himself over to The Dark Lord.

Severus has won the war once, seen the devastation left by it in another life and failed all those dear to him in a third.

For his fourth life he changes his allegiance. The Dark is enticing but he has studied it over three lifetimes, he knows not what the Light has to offer.

Lily accepts his apologies begrudgingly then with palpable relief when he distances himself from Cy– from Mulciber. Never one to do anything in halves, Severus makes a show of befriending her friends and finds himself genuinely shocked when the show becomes a reality. Him and McKinnon will likely never like each other, both too cold, distrustful and guarded, but Mary's hot temper and wicked tongue is less disdainful when he has seen her temper cool and felt the genuine weight of her apologies. Alice is still a raging bitch, but she's like that with everyone so he takes no offence to her burning glares, instead relishing in the hot blush consuming her entire being whenever Longbottom falls to her feet. It's almost a shame to see the not-yet-couple graduate before them.

The four foolish, arrogant, Gryffindor toe-rags are still a bitter fight between the two best friends from Cokeworth, but he learns to quiet his rage, even if he does not imagine ever liking them.

Considering some of the constants across lifetimes, he thinks it will be harder to keep Pettigrew in the Light. Instead the rat-bastard accepts a blithe invitation to the cinema and falls at Tuney's feet, love-struck and vying with a gentle attention that has Lily's cruel sister thoroughly enthralled. Considering her husband across two lifetimes used to beat her silly, he does not complain about the change in pace.

Come the end of Hogwarts he has a tentative peace with Potter, who now lives in genuine fear of what Severus will do to his bollocks if he were to hurt his best friend. He would still sell Black to the dementors for nary a knut, a shared opinion really. He still throws acidic barbs at Lupin, even as he brews Wolfsbane with gathered ingredients, hiding the sliver of kindness behind a Masteries project he has no claim to. Belby delighted in their shared correspondence however, happy to attach his name as a sponsor to Severus' endeavours.

After three lifetimes of Slytherins, its maddening being around so many Gryffindors. They do not hide their plans to overthrow the Dark Lord. They walk into every room with a swagger and run to their future with a bullheadedness he can scarcely understand. Black and Potter steadfast in their desires to be Aurors, taking their Junior positions under the newly married Longbottoms with surprising grace, not offended that the two year gap has already seen the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff couple into Seniority. Pettigrew happy to travel the world with his new girlfriend. Mary and Lily throwing their own weight into healer courses. Lupin is still red-taped and hesitant to find a proper job, McKinnon happy to stumble through life whimsically. Most surprisingly, they do not need to be swayed by his words and neither do they mind when he so obviously plays them to his advantage.

Lupin and McKinnon listen to his arguments against the segregation of Muggle or Magic and House Rivalries widening a divide with rapt attention. They don't offer unsolicited, baseless arguments against Muggle customs entrenched in the hatred of differences, instead researching their rebuttals carefully. The trio spend hours of their first year post Hogwarts trying to define a future shaped by somewhat optimistic Laws that could benefit both wizarding and non-wizarding kind alike. So many hours discussing this in fact, that when the invitation to live on the McKinnon grounds comes, he's not actually that surprised. Her manor is huge and old, but not the looming ancient quality of the Malfoy manor, instead there is life and kindness and love to the wooden structure, to the large, blooming fields.

He plays some bold hands when the trio end up living together, practically throwing a Mastery sponsorship at Lupin and making small, sly comments about Slughorn's impending retirement. The shock of a future has Lupin almost red-faced as he spouts idillic beliefs of a new generation of kindness, of equity coming to grace Hogwarts. McKinnon, no longer drinking herself blind, seems to toy with the idea of a Transfiguration apprenticeship when he brings Avery over for a quick catch up.

He is 19 and also over a hundred and this new world in the Light is so very different to what he thought it would be.

Of course 20 comes in dark and dreary as it wont to do.

Most of his Slytherin friends had seen his loyalty to Lucius and Mulciber wither and die and had left him with cruel sneers and harsh curses that he accepted. He has chosen the Light and left his friends to die. Again he is the youngest Triple Master in all of Great Britain, even younger than his first life. Nothing else is quite the same, not even the Light.

As attacks on Muggleborns get bolder, Dumbledore the paranoid war-general seeks to reap the loyalty he has sown in his ex-students. Again, he does not approach Severus and when the first meeting his friends were invited to finishes, Severus is sat with a full kettle of chai and sweets on the table, his research into blood-wards stretched wide. McKinnon storms in angry in a way that is surprising considering the last three months they have spent living together, even the usually mild look on Lupin's face is tight, lips quivering.

Behind them is the host of Gryffindors he hasn't seen since Yule. He raises a brow, flickering his hand to start on more tea and spelling some liquor to the table. Black wrenches the Firewhisky open, dribbles of alcohol spilling out of a few heavy handed shot glasses.

Through halted, tight breaths they tell him of an Order he was thoroughly aware of; tell him of a meeting he had not been invited to; tell him of an idiotic, hasty decision made by five teenagers who had been obviously throwing themselves to the tides of war. They tell him of loyalty to a bitter, sarcastic, cruel, ugly man who had been enthralled in the Dark and still chose the Light. Tuney and Pettigrew are still travelling across Asia, Pettigrew desperately trying to keep his beloved safe, but the rest of the foolish Gryffindor's had seen his lack of a presence at a meeting so perfectly tailored to their desire and instead, chose him.

Three lifetimes given and in the fourth, he is finally chosen but not by the man he had most wanted. It's a gratifying feeling.

None of them join the Order, though Frank will occasionally drop information at Potter and Black, careful to be wondering aloud and not to them. All of them, all now his to protect, create another option. He desists on his research, entrenching himself instead in the way of Magical Law, forces his knowledge down both Potter and Black's throats because the dunderheads are the future of Wizengamot whether they desire it or not. Vouches for Marley's Transfiguration apprenticeship at Beauxbaton. Assures Remus that there is no betrayal in accepting a job offer at the most prestigious Magic School in Great Britain. Asks for a hushed favour from Peter when Avery comes crashing into the McKinnon estate, cursed to a pale filth and crying for a mark he cannot refuse when his sister is still in school. Lily starts a crusade for an integrated Healer/Auror unit, Mary as her second, even as she retroactively starts researching a specialisation in mind-maladies. He escorts Marley down the aisle at Lily's wedding, brushes shoulders with Remus in drunken glee, shares light-hearted barbs with a pregnant Tuney across the dinner table, Peter's newly met 'cousins' awkwardly sat at the long table with them, Aid brushing their knees together.

It is a start of a future that leaves him all the more hopeful, all the more willing to put his life in the hands of Gryffindor's if they could produce such foolishly bright paths.

This future becomes more solid, a tentative, rocky truce across most of the year levels at Hogwarts, all silently reproachful and admiring of the stunningly fair, scarred Potion Apprentice signing up to take Slughorn's position. A St.Mungos healer makes a poor attempt at stitching up a half-dead Corbin Yaxley and Lily and Sirius sue for malpractice with the sort of indignant, reckless fury he's always known them to posses. Marley loses her parents and it becomes international news, a French Reporter railing for action against the Dark plaguing Britain, decrying the inaction of French Wizardingfolk marking it as cowardly as the inaction France had been met with during Grindelwald's reign, waxing about the small, misfit group that finally took that particular Dark Wizard down. Regulus meets Sirius for an awkward dinner, the two brothers watched carefully by both he and Cissa, the two unrelated Slytherin's in the room both masking their surprise at the protective detail sat in opposite sides of the bar. Cissa could have half this pub in a tangle of rumours and fights before he could draw his wand. He could have Reg sulking at his feet with only a fierce look. The Black brothers chose their overseers well.

Draco Malfoy meets his Uncle Sirius with graceless tugs at black curls and a wide gummy smile that has his once-Godfather cooing like a blithering idiot. His parents quiet and fearful as they tug the wards around them.

Harry James Potter is born and he has his mother's eyes and his father's hair and a bounding of curiosity that has all of his Aunties and Uncles roaring with laughter, parents more frazzled than ever.

Twenty one has never felt more harrowing, and Severus has spent six years in the company of Gryffindor's, so of course their brash stupidity rubs off on him. He knows not what shapes the Dark Lord's horcruxes takes, but he knows enough to distance himself from the future he is seeing, to bury himself in the Dark he has always sought.

Regulus lives past nineteen, dragged ashore by the bitter asshole he had enviously viewed as a traitor and an inspiration at once. The locket is blast with the darkest magic Severus can conjure, he knows his dark magic well and the locket screeches as the soul within it dies. Severus loses a hand to a ring that Dumbledore had sought out, two lifetimes ago, but it is a victorious loss that assures the future of those he calls his. He sprinkles his knowledge of dark magick across the information net that encompasses The Order of The Phoenix, allowing it to slip through his constructed cracks and into the ears of the wisened wizard he respects ardently and hates all the same. His death is a quiet, bitter thing, him and Bellatrix both burning in the tangle of dark, angrily shouted spells, the reclusive safe house of some old Pureblood decaying with him. The snap and crackle of his magic felt by his shrieking, six year old nephew in the Potter Manor and the hoarse, anguished shouts leaving Marley's mouth as the wards that once tethered him to the McKinnon estate released his magic to the world. There is no body to bury, the crips he knows it will be.

A snap, a marionette laying in the air and Severus, once more cursed with life.

He is old, he tries. Rewrites the history of the last two lifetimes, pulling his Slytherin friends ashore to the Light and tethering himself to the Gryffindor's he has come to love.

Twenty three, dead.

Four horcruxes found, destroyed. A patent for a Wolfsbane potion that renders the user of sound mind and turns their bones to jelly just long enough for the transformation to not hurt. No mastery. No nights spent crowded over a kitchen table with Marley and Remus. A crusade of peace and understanding underpinning his every move. Avery dead for abandonment of duty at seventeen, Mulciber sentenced to a kiss for murdering a minor, Bellatrix once more drowning in grief of her baby cousin's death.

Again.

Frank is a single father at twenty four, Neville not even one yet. Alice avenged by Moody, his anger taking down the stuttering Avery and the overtly powerful Lestrange brothers. Marley is finishing up a study in Magical Law and plays footsie with Meadows whenever they go pub-crawling. Sirius becomes Lord Black as soon as Regulus is of age, his younger brother relinquishing the title and fleeing to studies in Egypt. Peter dies at eighteen, a raid in Knockturn Alley turning violent by the presence of Death Eaters and too rough Aurors, Tuney survives and never steps foot in Magical Britain again. Harry is born and he and his parents are given warded necklaces, tokens to protect them from as much Dark Magic as is feasible. Voldemort is defeated, but not dead, the Potter family somehow safe in the aftermath of the attack. Remus takes on the role of DADA Professor and lives to carry that title on for more than 5 years. His connections to these people become tenuous the longer he passes through their lives. He has no godchildren and no one to come home to disappearing in the cloak of nightfall and spreading his magical research across the continent with broad strokes and badly maintained whispers in the right ears. All in all this is the only death not made in the throes of war, he dies at twenty nine, during the peace filled years in an unexpected car wreck.

Just once more.

Mary dies a week from graduation, taking Mulciber down in the scuffle. Lily disarms and arrests Bellatrix Lestrange two years into being an auror. James lives to name his son and can never again hold his frail form, never again ride a broom, not with the soft whisper of crucio creating tremors from his once steady grip. Out of pure spite, Severus throws tomes of wandless magic at the once auror, refusing to see the man who had run head first into war become a snivelling, regretful coward. Marley and Meadows hold hands as they walk down the street, both already making names for themselves in the Ministry, unafraid to use nepotism to their advantage if it meant fighting for their relationship to be open and honest. Regulus dies fresh from Hogwarts, and there are no apologies sincere enough, no rationalisation strong enough to salvage the friendship Sirius had with Lily. Sirius loves James and loves Harry and can never forgive Lily. Remus fights the war and loses a foot for it, but he finds a quiet cottage to call home in Ottery St.Catchpole and ends up in some odd, quasi threesome and marriage with the Lovegoods that he does not mention in any length. Peter and Tuney still live in Cokeworth, have two sons both glad to look over their baby cousin once he starts Hogwarts. Severus once again falls to the shadows, trying his damndest to kill the wizard he once admired, to finally put a damn end to this curse. He dies as the Dark Lord is once more resurrected, his flung protego protecting Diggory, but not even his strongest wards, his strongest tokens can stop Evan from drawing Harry's blood to the caldron. He spells the portkey to the foolish boys he had come to protect and hears Harry's shout of no in the same moment he sees the jet of dark green flying his way.

By his eighth life he is so tired of war. Does not care if Dumbledore wins or Voldemort wins or if his friends die. He has witnessed so many iterations of them fall before him.

Severus dangles in the air, falls against the ground and does not move.

His mind is a fracture of mazes and occlusion is the only peace he knows, burying what remains of his conscious beneath the icy depths of water.

Through a haze he sees faces. Genuine concern in cool, blue eyes, no twinkle in sight. Guilty, surly faces of enemies and friends and people he may yet love. Severus has played fate so many times, he is so tired, prefers to sit himself unmoving in a white hospital bed. Cyrus kisses him exactly once, the raging inferno of thousands dispelling the calm of his steady river. Severus sinks further, intent to never again see the light of day.

He does not know when he dies, notices a steady lack of visitors, meets a cherub faced Harry and loud hollering Draco and knows no more. Then a blank series of nurses and the old coot who was the most piss poor Headmaster to ever grace the earth. Seeing the ageing visage almost has him leaving the peace of his own mind, though he manages to wrangle those intentions far below the surface.

Snivellous.

Godric Almighty he's fucking sick of this shit. He breaks the spell he had created so many lifetimes ago with ease, lets the familiar weight of his wand rest to his hand, tilting the wooden conduit to his chin and traumatising more than fifty kids by just topping himself there and then.

ANOTHER ONE!

He doesn't care if he has to off himself a thousand more times. He. Will. Not. Stay.

A few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors misreads his intent and disarms him when his magical core begins to coarse with violent, deadly cracks in the ground. Dumbledore comes to speak to him, he does not care. A whole week spent planning his inevitable demise, waiting for Poppy's damned charms to free him from their horrifying, well-meaning grasp. When he's finally released he storms to the top of the Astronomy tower and just jumps.

Of course he had forgotten about the hedge magick surrounding Hogwarts. Another five days of sad useless interrogations and crying Lily and angry Cyrus. When he's at the Great Hall that night, he's so mad that two attempts had failed and just plunges a butter knife as violently as he can through his neck. Sod everyone else.

But no, no dying doesn't work. Death doesn't want him. Not in the tenth life, the fourteenth life, not in his seventeenth life will he finally stay down.

He's tried it all. Suicide by cop, mauled by animals, starvation. It does not stick. He runs away to the Muggle World, does his O-Levels and A-Levels, gets a degree in Chemical Engineering and a Muggle Husband and Son that he gets to see murdered before his very eyes. Very much not because of magic, no, but because apparently leaving your ex-wife for your son's primary Science teacher is a crime punishable by death. Apparently picking your wonderful, kind Da over your abusive, psycho Mum is all strangers need to kill you like mindless savages.

After that awfulness, he runs to East Asia, learning ancient branches of magic. Ignores his unfinished OWLs and the degree he does not have and the permits he most certainly lacked as he trudges through Mainland China, Taiwan, Bangkok, Singapore, India, through the Middle East. He learns enough magic to no longer need a wand, ever, though he shrinks his wand and attaches it to an earring, if only for the companionship it has given. Dies facing a particularly pissed dragon in this life.

Out of boredom he becomes an screen-writer and actor, just drops school and uses ancient Chinese rituals to spell his hair sleek and silky, uses colour correcting charms passed through Indian households to even out his skin tone. A Filipino potion has the bones of his teeth and nose evening out into something more normal looking. By the end of it he might have actually looked a bit fit. A few lifetimes having to lie his way to Helheim and back means he's something of a good actor with enough tragic stories to tell, that he's never in need of a role. He's been through enough pain, enough anger, enough betrayal to embody every character given to him smoothly, to give charming, dry smiles at his co-stars after performing monologues that leave them gasping in fear. This is a fun life, spent with magic oozing from his every move and addled by whatever drug seems to hit his fancy. Bellatrix hunts him down after he's nominated for an Oscar for his role as a naive General under Hilter's regime in love with a poor, captive Jewish mother. Not his own work, but it's his first Oscar nomination so he's a bit smug and really fucking trashed when she finds him at his unguarded apartment. She calls him a blood-traitor and fool and scorns the power she can feel radiating from him, unmasked and developing with him. She gives him a choice for glory. Severus has known glory and hated it all the same, so he sends her off with a kiss against her cheek and promises for dinner. Two days later Macnair, Rosier, Crouch and Scabior come to claim the dinner invite he had given and honestly, it's just easier letting them kill him then it is to fight back. Based on the sharp gleam in his eyes and the sudden raising of brows, Evan realises he had given up long before they got there.

He does manage to kill Voldemort, for good in his eighteenth life. Just follows his magical signature set on the ring to the rest of the bloody horcruxes and uses some refined Japanese spellwork to mutilate the damned things. But Voldemort's death makes no happy ending, creates instead a power vacuum that is still unstable when he steps into as the new Dark Lord. Cissa kills him in this lifetime, a poison in his drink that he could smell when he'd kissed her fingertips.

By the time his twentieth lifetime comes, Severus has knowledge of every form of magic known to wizarding kind, except the kind that will ensure he is never again reborn, has exactly no attachments to anyone and is only searching for a peaceful way to die.

Content to let things lie, he waits until Potter has placed him back on the ground. Spells his wand to a makeshift earring. Flies off to hunt horcruxes, but does not kill the Dark Lord because he can't be arsed looking for the paranoid man on top of everything else. Writes theses under psuedo-nyms, sends ideas where they can be cultivated, puts a very particular potion recipe in Lupin's room and goes searching through Ethiopia and Israel for a good and permanent death.

Why Potter nee Evans, McKinnon, Mulciber, Malfoy and Malfoy nee Black decide to interrupt this journey almost four years later, he hasn't the faintest idea.

Life would be so much better if he could just die.

(If ever I come back to this, the original idea is Lily, Marlene and Narcissa decide to investigate what the hell happened to Severus Snape and why their family magic seems to be honing in on the supernova that is his magical signature. Lucius is going so those damned Gryffs don't hurt his lovely wife and Cyrus just wants to know why the heck he keeps seeing Snape die. Along the way they decide to get attached to him and make sure he's just as attached to them and not spending all of his waking time trying to off himself. It's a particularly long journey.)

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lexygod91 · 10 months

Text

Miles Morales Angst.

Summary:

honestly? this is just me ranting about an idea i got while listening to mitski. don't ask, i have no explanation, just my Miles Morales brainrot who loves angst.

A/N:

I've just had this idea in my head for a little while, rewatching the movies. I see many moments where my brain goes 'holy shit, that could seriously affect his mental health'. And so, here I am, to hurt my sweet little boy 'cause i love him and that's what we do with our favourite characters. I've just seen many moments in the movies where Miles is told that he has no control over his life, and that it's not his life and well. Here we are :)

Actually, half way in and this just turned into me projecting on Miles. Enjoy!!

Trigger Warnings:

Self-harm, detailed descriptions of self-harm and breakdowns, mentions of eating disorder, eating disorder, toxic positivity?

Miles couldn't point when it started. He guessed it was after Miguel's rant about him being an anomaly, but he wasn't sure. Hell, he was still in denial.

If he had to guess, it started after Miguel's rant about him being an anomaly. But in reality, it started way before that. It started when he was bitten, or maybe when he started going to Visions Academy. Forced.

It wasn't serious at first, just skipping a couple of meals each 3 months at most. It only happened when he was too inside his head. When he failed at saving or helping someone, when his parents scolded him for being irresponsible and selfish, when they made him feel like he couldn't control his own life...

Those days, he needed to know that he was able to have something under his control. And, well, skipping a meal or two did the work.

He once tried to avoid that. Instead of skipping dinner, he went to his bedroom and closed his door.

It had been a rough day, that one. He had started the day by missing Gwen. And Peter. And Noir, and Penni and Spider-Pork. Drawing them wasn't enough.

Later that day, his favourite grocery store was attacked. The one where the old woman with her cats was, always giving him sweet smiles and the best empanadas ever. He tried his best, he really did, and the people living in the building were fine! But the woman's cat died under the weight of the whole building. He was able to prevent the building from fully collapsing and destroying the ones around it, but the woman's cats... And her store.

How was she going to get her money now? Where were the people living there going to live? It had been his fault, if only he had noticed before that the bad guy was not trying to get him, but to make the building collapse then everyone would have been fine, they'd all have their apartments and belongings and a ceiling to sleep under.

And that woman, that sweet woman who would often insist on Miles getting free food (he would always deny it) was left alone, with no comfort. No cats to support her.

And so, he went home, late. His parents told him off, telling him that even if they were just family it wasn't an excuse to disrespect them like that. Miles yelled apologies at them, and told them he was tired. His parents calmed down after that, getting worried over him.

Miles had felt worst after that.

They asked him what was wrong but Miles didn't answer, so they all decided to have dinner and leave Miles alone.

Miles did not want to have dinner, but he also didn't want to start another discussion with his parents so, he sucked his wants and forced the food down his throat.

Once he was done, he cleaned the dishes and went straight to his room. He felt nauseous. He forced himself to not go to the bathroom.

He suffered for a couple of hours until he saw the cutter he used for his collages. He fought the urge to grab it, but his mind was too loud.

He kept thinking, and thinking, and thinking. How could he have let the building fall? Why didn't he tried more? Why did he feel so alone? Probably it was because he disappointed everybody. But he didn't do it on purpose, he tried, that had to be enought, right?

He got up and grabbed the cutter, sitting on his ghair. He hugged his legs against his chest as he placed his head on his knees, observing the cutter with one hand.

He slowly pulled up his sleeve and took out the cutter's blade, pressing it against his skin. His racing mind seemed to blur as the cold metal made contact against his soft, clear skin.

And as he softly pressed the blade against it, he felt the noise in his mind become a far white noise. Something he knew was there, but didn't feel the need to listen to.

It was refreshenig. It was ridiculous.

He wacthed his cut, but no blood was coming out of it. How could it not? He had cut it! Was he even bad at this? At hurting...

He had scoffed after that. Placing the cutter again on the table and rolling down his sleeve, feeling ridiculous. Why was he doing that? It was ridiculous. There were people out there, truly suffering, and here he was. Making a fool of himself just for attention.

It was not the last time he did it, but it always left him feeling ridiculous.

They were always light cuts that left no scars. That fact left him feeling worthless and useless.

But he wasn't in any way sick, seriously. He was happy! Sure he sometimes needed to calm his mind and to skip a meal to feel good but, he was happy. He would play videogames with Ganke on his spare time, or pass time with his family, playing boardgames or Just Dance on Youtube because the new Just Dance were crap, and he'd always laugh his soul out.

He had a good time. And a good life.

And then, Gwen showed up. God, he was delighted to see her! She found a way they could see each other again! It was amazing. And not only that, Peter was also there!

And sure the Spidersociety were a bit wary about him but he'd be fine, right?

Except, he hadn't. He was chased and yelled at for just existing. And, ok, he had cursed his existance more than once too but this was too much! There were like, what? Thousands of variants of him (well, not him, Spider-Man) chasing him. People who were supposed to understand him, people who were supposed to help him, people who were trying to stop him from saving his own fucking dad!

People he had disappointed once again.

He had outran them. He did. He got out, he was in his dimension. But fuck, did it leave him scarred.

He swung his way home as his mind got louder, and louder, yelling at him. Telling him all kind of things and he missed his cutter.

Once he arrived at his room, he picked on his skin and wrapped his fingers around his wrist, finding comfort in the thinnest of it. And then his mother came, and they talked, and he found out he wasn't in his universe.

Found out he didn't even know where he was from.

Found his uncle, found another version of himself and found out he didn't want to be anymore.

Found out he didn't want to exist anymore.

#spiderman atsv #miles molares #across the spider verse #atsv #miles morales angst #angst #self-harm #sh #eating disorder #ed #spiderman across the spiderverse #really angsty #projecting #self-projecting into Miles #i was thinking of making this part od a series #but im not sure #maybe as a oneshot its better

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sparkler-sleet · 7 months

Text

A complete rant about childhood. My childhood, specifically.

10:11AM

I've been thinking a lot of my childhood houses lately. I had a few of those, childhood houses; I haven't seen my parents in the same room in years, and my father moved out when I was too young to remember anything other than one occasion on which they argued in our old living room over me.

Anyway, over the years I've collected four 'childhood homes', because my father couldn't settle down but I was lucky in the sense that he always stayed close enough that I could spend a weekend with him. It was just the two of us over the span of three different houses; we were best friends. Saturday afternoon through Sunday evening, complete chaos would ensue. I'm my father's only child and because of that, he was able to give me mountains of attention that my mother just couldn't, for reasons that don't concern me any more, reasons that were never her fault. So Saturday afternoon through Sunday I would play two-player video games and make cupcakes and use the laundry basket as a boat in the empty bath. He never thought any of my game ideas were weird. And he managed to go along with a lot of them, considering he's what's considered an old father.

Looking back, though, I realise that as we made our way through these houses, we-inevitably-changed. as people and as family.

I grew up. I transferred to high school and read books from the library that contained sex, because I was old enough to do that. I found out what boys were and tried the things I learned. I heard a girl talking about liking girls and realised what chunk of my life I had been missing out on. I finished school and work changed from a weekend-thing to a Monday-to-Friday thing, with a logo on the shirt.

Meanwhile, my father grew older. He made me buzz his hair because it was getting too grey. His back began aching after a game on the Wii. 'Maybe next week, Tiger', became the norm. His father died and, consequently, it felt like his whole world went into the coffin alongside him, because that left my father to look after my Nana. Wrinkles appeared and he told me that he's scared of becoming the spitting image of my grandfather.

We moved in with my Nana four years ago now. I didn't want to; back then I was so young and shy that I had barely ever said five words to my Nana in my whole life. But we didn't have much choice because she was alone and my father was alone and they both needed someone to feel loved by within the realms of a home. At first, it was fun. My dad had the attic renovated for me, so I had a bathroom and everything I could possibly need. He spent too much money on me and it still makes me nauseous to think about, because I was once told that he spoiled me and I hated him spending money on me ever since.

Someone took his place in his house, I'm sure of it. One day I said goodbye, and I came back the next week and there was a different man in my father's seat. This man did not care for a hug when he first saw me. This man didn't bribe me with one more cookie to stay up later, because he valued the time we had together. This man did not put himself out for me and that was fine, he was putting himself out for my Nana, but that effort was exhaustive when it was for her and it became tired, very quickly.

She's eighty seven and she loves her son very much, he is her earth and stars, but she can never say anything right because she cannot say anything that will give him back four years of his life, his health and his happiness. She is sorry for that, but he won't accept it.

Nowadays, this childhood home - here, with my Nana and my father and myself - is a jagged memory of where I had to drop the last fragment of my prematurely-defeated childhood. I had never been much of a child around my mother's family, my responsibilities didn't allow me. And then, at fourteen, I had to put on my brave voice and tell my father to stop shouting, it wasn't her fault she had forgotten to move all of her dishes to the sink, and it wasn't to spite him, either.

My father hasn't been married since long before I was born and because of it, people used to say I was the one who made the decisions for him. If I told him to calm down, he immediately would, because I didn't like seeing him so angry. Nowadays I don't think that's true. Nowadays, I think I'm quite frightened of him. not of him hurting me, but of what I'll think when he's gone if I never had a chance to make things get better. If I have to walk through this last childhood home, packing up this things and wishing we had stayed in the last one.

#blogging #journalling

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oddaodd · 3 years

Text

· July’s Official Birthday Flower ·

Summary: When the reader suffers yet another miscarriage, Tommy is there for her. Time helps them heal, but there’s always a little reminder of what they’ve lost.

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of miscarriage, grief, blood , sadness and pain.

Author’s note: I Think this is one of the angstiest fics I’ve ever written and I do think that I should put a disclaimer out there that if any of the warnings that I wrote up there tigger you, please don't read ahead.

A sharp pain awoke Y/n in a particularly warm summer night. Having been too familiar, more than anyone would like to be, with the particular pain she was feeling, she wasted no time in sitting up and getting out of bed, barely granting her significantly stained sheets a glance before she rushed to the bathroom, where the pains became more and more severe. She must have been spotting for hours before the pain woke her up.

Tommy was still sleeping on his side of the bed and for a reason Y/n didn’t want to make a sound. She carefully closed the bathroom door and took a few more steps until another wave of pain flowed through her body. Placing her hand over her mouth to buff the whimpers her throat couldn’t stop from escaping into her mouth, the pain increased. She began to feel blood quickly dripping down her legs but she couldn’t bring herself to look down, instead looking up at the small chandelier hanging from the bathroom’s ceiling as she took big breaths and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

It couldn’t be happening again. But it was. Y/n confirmed it when she saw the amount of blood that had pooled under her, a minuscule silhouette in violent contrast with the pearly white tiles. She couldn’t handle it then and let out a pained sob at the sight. Her legs trembled and she let herself fall to the cold hard floor. She could hear the violent thud her contact with the floor caused ringing through the bathroom’s walls as she rested her head against the tub and began sobbing silently. Suddenly the pain that woke her up, the one that she had to buffer out mere seconds ago felt like nothing. She wanted it to hurt more so it matched what the sight of the blood caused her to feel.

She then heard an array of hurried footsteps that stopped for a second in front of the door. Three soft knocks ran through the bathroom followed by Tommy’s voice calling Y/n’s name. Y/n couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to be alone, but at the same time she didn’t want anyone else to see.

“I’m coming in, Y/n” Tommy’s voice ran again and Y/n realized she didn’t want to be alone when she didn’t protest against it, not even when he gave her a few seconds to do so before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

He was by Y/n’s side in a trice. Color drained from his cheeks when he saw the blood before he crouched next to her and began rubbing her back soothingly with one hand as the other one went to the bathtub faucet.

“It won’t be necessary, love” she remembered telling him when he suggested for his aunt to go and stay with her when he left to London on a business trip a week ago “I have a good feeling about this one and I think it’s a boy”. She remembered the feeling that erupted inside her when he came back and nothing bad had happened, foolishly thinking that if nothing had happened by then nothing could happen at all.

The recollection caused her sobs to become louder, composing the most harrowing melody with the sound of the hot water filling the bathtub.

“Let it all out, Love” Tommy suggested before engulfing Y/n in a hug, his hand still rubbing circles on her back.

Y/n sank into his embrace and clung to him as if she was clinging to dear life. Her tears soaking through tommy’s cotton shirt until he felt his skin damp broke his heart. But instead of crying he continued to hold Y/n, telling her how much he loved her until the bath was full. He then helped her up, out of her stained silk night gown and into the warm water. After pressing a kiss to her forehead, he grabbed a towel and carefully picked up the promise that laid on the floor as if it was made of glass before leaving the bathroom with it in hands.

By then Y/n felt she had no more tears. Her face and throat ached. But a few more tears did roll down her face when she began scrubbing the blood from her inner thighs.

After that everything became blurry, her head airy and nauseous. Brief flashes of Tommy joining her in the bath, then carrying her to another room. Frances taking with her the bloody sheets, a doctor shaking his head sorrowfully at a mournful looking Tommy, a young toddler with her hair and tommy’s eyes, laughing, Tommy crying at the end of the bed and then darkness.

She woke up the next day with a headache, Tommy was sitting at the end of the bed and immediately turned to look at her when she stirred. Again he was by her side in a trice, taking her hand in his, looking at her with bloodshot eyes into her puffy ones.

“I’m so sorry, love” Y/n croaked out, her voice raspy, traces of the unfortunate previous night evident in it.

Tommy quickly hushed her “ey, It’s not your fault”

Y/n’s eyes began watering again “But I was so sure”

“I know” he said, his own voice breaking as he got in bed next to her

“we can try again” he murmured into her ear as he pulled her closer to him.

“I don’t know if I can take it, Tom. A bit of me dies each time” she mumbled burying herself into his chest. “I don’t think I can have children”

“it’s alright, love” he whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead “I’ve got you”

“Can we buy delphiniums?” she remembered asking him just before she fell into a deep slumber and out of consciousness, she did so for two days. Tommy only woke her up sporadically when she needed to take the tablets the doctor had prescribed.

On the third day, she woke up with Tommy’s arms around her, she took a minute to observe his face, even as he slept he looked restless. She didn’t want to wake him, but she couldn’t bear to be in bed a minute longer. Her whole body felt sore as she carefully got out of his grasp and attempted to get up, but as soon as her feet hit the hardwood floors it seemed like she forgot how to walk. Her body screaming at her for even attempting. The sigh that escaped her lips at her effort, as small and quiet as it was, arouse Tommy.

“Don’t get up, love” he said in a worried raspy morning voice getting up and walking around the bed so he was in front of her “what do you need?”

“I can’t bear to be in this bed any longer, Tommy” she sniffed.

“Where do you want to go?” he said in a tender voice accepting her unwillingness to stay in bed.

“Can you take me to the garden?”

Color drained from Tommy’s face once again before he nodded softly and helped Y/n down the stairs after making a detour to the nursery to get a small ornate wooden box.

The morning air was crisp, uncharacteristic of a July morning. Y/n wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. It felt like a million of tiny cold hands soothing her warm taut skin. She stood for a moment just taking it in, the small box in her hands as Tommy went to get a shovel. The ghost of a smile painted her lips when she saw him walking back towards her, with the shovel in one hand and a delphinium plant on the other.

The pair then walked to a secluded part of their garden that most visitors didn’t get to see. After helping Y/n kneel down on the grass, Tommy began digging a hole next to the other two plants that lived in that part of their garden. A yellow rose and a lavender. Y/n’s fingers began tracing the carvings of the wooden box as she watched her husband dig. She could swear a few tears fell into the dirt before he turned to her telling her it was deep enough.

Together they set the box, in the bottom before putting the delphinium plant on top and covering it up with dirt. Y/n never minded the feeling of dirt on her hands, but she was tired of burying ghostly promises. They sat in front of it for a while until hunger called them to the kitchen where Tommy prepared some mint tea.

Months passed turning grieving weeks into days and then just moments. By then Tommy had familiarized himself with the things that transported Y/n to that dreadful night and avoided them as much as possible just like she had done with the ones that did the same to him.

Y/n for instance couldn't bare to wear white nightgowns to sleep anymore and Tommy couldn't stand the smell of mint tea.

One December afternoon as Y/n was visiting one of the orphanages the Shelby’s funded, to see if everything was running smoothly, she found a small toy horse on a small bed next to the window. She picked it up and as she observed it carefully she remembered when she walked into the nursery to find Tommy crying a few months’ prior, a small horse just like the one Y/n just had found, clutched tightly in his hands. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, it was the first time she saw him crying after that dreadful July night.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

Y/n turned around with a jump and saw a small girl dressed in a yellow dress. Her hair was just as curly as Y/n's and her eyes were as pulchritudinous as Tommy’s as she looked at Y/n with a curious gaze.

“Yeah” Y/n smiled wiping her tears “is this yours?” she then asked looking at the girl as she handed her the horse.

“Yes, Her name is Rose!”

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @lilymurphy03 @slytherinicequeen

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby one shot #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinder x reader #peaky blinder one shot #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder angst #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader

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onyxoverride · 3 years

Note

I wonder how Zeke would react to you being pregnant, would he be absolutely delighted or would just go IM FINNA WHIP DIS HOE 🏃🏃🏎🏎💨💨

Baby - Zeke Jaeger x Reader

warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy sickness, I don’t know the ins and outs of pregnancy but google is my friend- just know I’m unreliable. Angsty, fluffy, SMUT Minors DNI. Pubes? Oversenstivity, creampie. Zeke is sweet.

word count: 4k

note: OMGG HAHAH I can see this going a few ways tbh. also accidentally wrote a fic again :) hehe. It’s Zeke, I cant help it. this started informally so its like a drabble fic hybrid baby which is fitting hehe

He’ll either be like “Well I did say I’d stuff you with my babies so...” and he’ll accept his fate as a father. Will be unusually good especially if it’s a little girl because if he has a son he’ll afraid he’ll be like his father.

Or he’ll give you a look of horror, if you two were protected and this was completely unexpected he’ll be like “...I don’t know if I can do this...” He might run away, but again he doesn’t want to be like his father, eventually, he’ll come back, probably when you start showing because it’s then that he realizes that you’re pregnant with his kid, for real. Will get on his knees and apologize if needed. Give him a wake-up call, “I told you I was pregnant, and you left me alone. You left me alone for almost three months. I had no one and you left.”

You need to accept him a bit, for your sake and for your baby's sake, but that doesn’t mean you won't be mean to him a bit as revenge. Plus, he needs to earn your trust back.

You let him live in the guest bedroom, whatever routine and life you had before, it’s completely different now. It’s awkward. He’s missed so much, he’s missed the worse of your morning sickness and dizziness (which you still have occasionally just not as bad), and he’s missed getting you weird food combos, he’s missed you, he misses your warmth, he misses talking to you in slow cold mornings, he misses rubbing his beard on your neck and you complaining that it tickles, he should have never set a foot out the door, he knows that now.

“This is my baby. Not yours, not ours, not unless you prove yourself.” And boy does he. It doesn’t matter if it’s the dead of night and you want food, he’ll get it with sleepy eyes and pajama pants if he needs to. One day he’s venturing out of his bedroom to see your bathroom light on, and he’s going to check, of course he is, because he is worried. You’re leaning over the toilet with your eyes closed, head propped against the wall, a cold rag resting on your thigh to get your temperature down and try to keep you grounded as you throw up.

You can see how this looks like a bad situation to someone who hasn’t been there for months. Why do they even call it morning sickness when it doesn’t just stick to mornings. So when he slides next to you on the floor with a panicked look in his eyes asking ‘are you okay? is the baby okay? should we go to the hospital?’ it’s a bit irritating but it warms your heart nonetheless. Your head is pounding, you desperately want to sleep but every time you move it makes you a little more nauseous so you can’t even make it to the bed. His hand is on your thigh, it's warm but not uncomfortably warm like your body, and his calloused hands bring you back to reality. “It’s normal,” is the best explanation you can utter out right now.

He wants to ask what he can do to help, but your eyebrows are scrunched in pain and he doesn’t want to deepen that so he’ll at least try to help. He brings you a pillow to rest your hips on, even though you groan when you move you appreciate it because the tiles began digging into your skin, your pajama shorts do nothing to help you with that but the cold tiles feel nice to an extent. All of Zeke’s knowledge from college and how he took care of his hungover or sick friends is jumbled up because can any of those tips apply here? Whenever your stomach didn’t feel good you’d ask him to fix you peppermint tea and that seemed to help but will the smell bother you? This is the first time he’s felt true panic since- well since you told him you were pregnant, and when he came back to beg for forgiveness.

You’re still sitting beside the toilet, it’s much more comfortable now with the pillow, and Zeke brought you a fresh wet rag because the old one was starting to warm up to you. There’s shuffling from the kitchen that’s muffled by the walls and he comes back with an armful of things -- it’s almost comical. Your favorite water bottle refilled with bits of ice clinking around, a blue Gatorade bottle, a handful of plain crackers from the back of your cabinet that he must’ve scrambled to find. He runs back one more time to bring a warm mug- which he now realizes probably is the opposite of what you want because it’s warm and it seems like you want to be cold. He looks awkward as he sits on the other side of the toilet, leaning against the tub, like he’s being graded for his performance. He’s just close enough to reach you, just in case, hand caressing your ankle which is more to comfort him than you.

Now you look a little more relaxed. “Uhm...” he clears his throat as he speaks softly, “... I brought you tea, and crackers, water too. And cookies just in case. And Gatorade.” He looks younger now somehow, like when you and him met in college when he first asked you out on a date, nervous and scratching his ear.

This is the first time you have looked at him so softly since he came back. He does deserve the harshness, he thinks, but seeing the opposite after so long is almost gratifying. “Water sounds nice,” so he hands you the bottle quickly.

Sitting there almost another hour, you still don’t want to try to get up but Zeke stays and hands you everything you need. Pushes back any hair in the way when you lean to retch into the toilet. The times between each retch get longer, and after forcing yourself to eat a few crackers you feel like you have finally come down to earth, the rag and tiles too cold, the warmth of your bed filled with fluffy blankets tempt you.

“I think I’m okay now,” you aren’t, but just okay enough to go to bed and try to sleep. Zeke works you up to your feet, slow and steady, staying firm for you to lean on. You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror and it’s almost like a horror movie jumpscare. Red eyes, half-lidded and tired, eye bags more defined and lips chapped. The thought of toothpaste makes you want to throw up again but you have mouthwash that gentle so that’ll do, and the coconut lip balm you rely on has never bothered you. Zeke keeps at least one hand on your hips the whole time, you figure you do look like you are about to fall apart any moment.

He waddles you to your bed. It looks way different than when he saw it last. More pillows than before, lining the side closest to your bedroom door, his side. Or it was his side. There are more blankets too and a heating pad with a little remote dangling off the bed. He feels like he needs to retch now, guilt chasing up his spine. You’ve dealt with this alone, without him. How many times were you not able to get up off the floor because no one was there to help? The pillows that you lined his side with are taunting him, ‘we had to fill the void you left.’ But it’s just his own voice scolding him.

There are few things in life he is able to regret, but leaving you was one of the worst mistakes he could have ever made.

When you finally get comfortable, one leg thrown over the pillow and at least 3 fluffy blankets that he’s tucked over you, the temptation to ask to stay in your room scratches at the back of his head. He won’t ask, not tonight, not right now. He presses a closed-lip kiss to your shoulder that’s barely felt over the blankets. “Holler if you need me, okay?” He can see your breathing is steady and lets out a short laugh, you must have been exhausted. He’ll pour out the tea you didn’t drink, and make sure to get some more crackers on the grocery list.

/ / :

Slowly, he’s earning your trust. It’s been a month since he’s come back and now the atmosphere is more comfortable. Not romanticly domestic like he so desperately wants it to be again, but he can’t complain about progress.

He hasn’t been allowed to touch your belly, or even see it really because you are wearing the biggest clothes you can find. This is a rare moment where he gets to see you in tighter clothing because you feel too warm, and he gets to see your belly. It’s a cute bump, stretching out the tanktop you are wearing, he can see the dip/pop of your belly button through it, and you’ve refused to wear bras ever since your breasts started to feel too sensitive. Zeke didn’t expect to find this so... to put it in simple terms, hot.

Your nipples are poking through, breasts heavy, and the realization that he pumped you full with his kid and claimed you completely runs straight to his cock. He shouldn’t be this horny right now, especially when you are complaining about being too hot while laying on the couch with your feet propped up, shorts doing nothing to cover you, especially when he can see that you are not wearing underwear and slightly wet. Can you really blame him? You are hot, he loves you, and he’s been pent up ever since he came back and even before because his hand doesn’t cut it.

When he leans to give you a cup of ice water he knows you can see his hard-on through his pajama pants, it’s not like he’s trying to hide it. “Are you seriously horny right now?” You don’t really mean to say it like you are offended, you’re just surprised, and curious, because what the hell is going through his head right now? He’s a little startled because of your straightforwardness but he is nothing if not shameless when it comes to this type of scenario. How do you think you got pregnant in the first place?

“Yes, because a beautiful woman is laying right there with her legs propped up so I can see her cunt -- which is wet by the way -- and her tits, well, she might as well be shirtless and-” He takes his hand to run up your knee, “-she has my cute kid sitting in her belly right now. You are kind of irresistible you know?”

That’s really embarrassing, sure it felt airy but you didn’t know he could see. You can feel your cunt gush -- curse pregnancy horniness -- as you look up to him from where your head is resting against a pillow. You could risk it... You can satisfy yourself sure, the few toys you have resting under the bathroom sink but you know that the best experience, the most satisfying one, would be with Zeke. At least you tell yourself that's the reason, really you miss him, you miss him loving on you like you’re the only person in the universe and his warm touches, you miss him fucking you brainless. You don’t think he’ll leave again at this point, he’s too far in, going to doctor's appointments with you and living with you, and if he tried you might just break one of his legs. So why not? It’s not like he could get you pregnant again-

“If I’m so irresistible, why aren’t you doing anything?” You see him quirk a brow at you, knowing this will change the relationship he’s slowly been earning back. He just meant to embarrass you a bit, see you warm up with his lewd words but actually initiating something is the best outcome. So the hand that’s been lingering on your knee goes down to the juncture of your thigh, brushing up against the bump of your belly. It has you sucking in a breath, you are so sensitive, and he loves how responsive you are.

“As you wish.” He settles himself between your legs on the couch, they spread to accommodate him and he can see more of your cunt peaking out through the shorts. Unless he is mistaken, you have gotten wetter since he last saw it which is sending his blood rushing. Working off your shorts is easy, throwing them somewhere behind him, and he observes for a moment. He hasn’t seen you naked in a long time so he is soaking up every moment like it will be his last. You nudge your ankle to his side, “Don’t stare,” you say in an airy voice he hasn’t heard in a long time. There’s a patch of hair contouring your cunt, being dampened by your slick. You don’t care if he doesn’t like hair or not, you are pregnant and he should be thankful he’s even between your legs right now. Still, a nagging in the back of your head is making you a little self-conscious, but that is slowly being overridden by desire. He takes your offending ankle and rubs circles in it, it’s to keep you in place, a sense of dominance with a soft undertone. His other hand goes to take a few fingers to spread open your cunt, “I’m sorry, I like to stare at things that are beautiful, it’s how I was made.” That doesn’t even sound like an apology, too light-hearted and snaked with lust. Scolding him sounds like a good option but you can’t bring yourself to. You are just too sensitive, his hand isn’t even rubbing at your sweet spots but it still feels so good.

His stare on your nethers finally lets up, bringing both of his hands to trail up your belly, rubbing the bump of your growing baby. His baby, that he put in you. He bends over your belly to kiss it through your top, slowly riding it up so he can kiss the skin. It’s too soft, too comforting. You want to cry because this is what you have wanted this whole time since you found out you were pregnant. You wanted him to be sweet, fawn over you, and kiss your belly, and love your kid as much as he claimed to love you. There are so many things left unspoken, so many things to talk over that you both haven’t gotten to. You card fingers through his blonde hair, it’s just as soft as you last felt it, though you know he’s been using stupid low-quality shampoo because he can’t steal yours anymore. He looks up at you, giving you a much too sweet smile before settling his glasses on the coffee table.

He whips off his shirt to stay at least equal exposed as you, you’ve always complained about how it’s unfair. What’s really unfair, he thinks, is how hot you look laid out for him. The roughness of his hands contrasts the softness of your skin, the pudge of your thighs, the slowly appearing stretch marks on your belly, the softness of the edge of your breast he can feel teasing the edge of his hand as he adventures your body. Even your little moans are soft like silk running across his skin every time you breathe one out from his touches. Pulling your tank top over your breasts, he stares again. He really has missed a lot, your breasts look a little different, just a bit bigger, and your nipples swollen a bit with sensitivity, perked and begging for his attention.

So he caves, pressing his fingertips into the flesh of your breasts making you gasp because of the tenderness. The pads of his thumb circling around your areola before thumbing roughly over your nipple. They’re so cute, so responsive, Zeke loves it. He kisses your belly one more time and adjusts himself closer to you, pajama pants brushing against the swell of your ass, and leans so he can lap at your chest. His tongue feels almost prickly like a cat because of how sensitive you are, it hurts but it doesn’t hurt at the same as he tongues your nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, teeth teasing your nipple just a bit. It causes you to jolt and moan, digging your fingers into his hair as he continues to press kisses into your chest. You can feel his chest vibrate with a salacious giggle, his sadistic tendencies tend to slip out like this, and seeing you jolt and knowing your cunt must be absolutely drenched makes him all too prideful.

“Zeke, that’s enough-” He’s sucking the skin of your breasts hard so it'll leave bruises when he’s done. One of his hands presses gently into your belly, “Soon I won’t be able to do this as much. Let me have my fun.” All the implications send your blood rushing to your head as you throw it back into the pillow. He sucks a few more bruising hickeys to the underside of your breasts before pulling back, leaving a bite at your nipple.

He’s too needy to even work his pants off completely, doesn’t even bother with his socks. He was right, your cunt is drenched and leaking slick so much, sticking to the hair that's there, it’s almost running to your ass. “Fuck, you’re so fucking-” he can’t even find the words to describe you right now. Beautiful, divine, ethereal, are a few words that come close to describing you. So he just presses a kiss into your knee before settling his cock near your clenching hole.

“You’re okay with this?” There’s so much kindness in his voice, seeping into your skin. You know this is your chance to pull back, to continue the steady incline of your relationship with him instead of this jump. You don’t know if it’s your horny brain taking over or your logical side agreeing with it but, you want this.

“Zeke, if you don’t fuck me I’ll probably cry.” Maybe that wasn’t the best response to this situation, you realize, but you’ve long passed the point of being embarrassed for this. He lets out a rough laugh at your response, pressing his thumbs into the juncture of your thigh and hips. Before he does anything he wrestles a pillow from beneath the couch to sit under your hips, making you wiggle until you are comfy.

“We can’t have that, now can we?” It’s mocking but filled with affection. He glides his cock over your slick cunt to wet it a bit before prodding at your hole, sliding ina bit slowly to let you adjust. “Shit-” It feels completely different -- puffy, your insides are swollen and plush, caging his cock in an enticing vice.

His fingers are digging into your thighs as he holds his cock, pushing in until he reaches the base. Your nails are clasped to his bicep and you swear your eyes roll back from the pressure of his cock inside you. Stretches your walls to the max, pushing against all the soft ridges of your cunt.

“‘S too much-” He’s barely even moved since he’s been inside you and you’re already complaining? With your slurred words? Cute.

“You can handle it, can’t you?” He shouldn’t be mean, but this isn’t really mean, is it? Rocking his hips into yours, making sure the pillow propping up your hips stays in place, there are tears rimming your lashes from pleasure and little whines being pushed out of you from the force of his thrusts. You can’t even respond with words, he’s too deep and it feels too good and it’s been too long since experiencing this. You barely even use the dildos you have but he’s bigger, thick around the middle and the tip of his cock hammering into your soft patches that you can never reach, that send you closer to the edge sooner than you think.

The creaking of the couch echoes off the walls but the slaps of his thighs meeting yours feel much louder, it almost makes you dizzy. Zeke is glad your belly hasn’t gotten bigger otherwise he wouldn’t be able to situate himself on top of you anymore, elbows caging you in, his full-bodied warmth comforting you. You whisper curses into his mouth as he kisses you, still rocking into you, your legs wrapped around the back of his thighs to pull him ever deeper into you. Moans trapped by his lips and his own raspy groans by yours. Arms wrapped around his midsection with you nails digging into his back, your nipples brushing against his chest which is pleasurable in it’s own torturous way.

He can feel your plush cunt clench around him sporadically and your thighs tighten around him. The feeling deep in your belly is about to snap, the tears clinging to your lashes roll down the sides of your face and Zeke makes them disappear with wet kisses and a rough thumb, pushing your chin down to capture your lips with his again. “Gonna cum for me?” There he is again with a cock lilt to his voice that has your cunt quivering around his cock, but you have no room to complain right now. You are sure you’re leaving red streaks down his back now because it feels like every muscle in your body is tightening as you cream around his cock, leaving a translucent ring for him to mess up with a few more well placed thrusts that have him reaching closer to his own orgasm. “Cummin’ so pretty for me- fuck.” You hold him close and continue to constrict your cunt walls around him, his head placed near your neck for him to bite at as he fills you up, a deep rock into you and he stills, plugging his cum inside you.

Zeke wishes he could lay here forever, your belly between him and you, and him inside you. It’s a comfort in it’s own right, seeing you filled with him, claimed with his kid inside you, ontop of you in borderline possessiveness. There’s things you both need to speak about but right now he can predict you saying you are either hungry or needing a bath, or both.

After you both catch your breath he leans back, slipping his cock out in the process. It’s picturesque, seeing his seed slip from your cunt and down your ass, sticking in the curls around your cunt in the process, and seeing the previous fruits of his seed growing inside you. He didn’t expect to like it this much but fuck. You look godly, basking in the aftermath of a wonderful orgasm, truly glowing.

/ / :

“After you have this kid I’m fucking marrying you.” He doesn’t mean to say it but it’s too late to turn back now. Post-ciotal bliss must be fogging up his head.

You give him a wild deshevled look as you prop yourself up on an elbow. “Wha- Zeke what the fuck? Is this your way of trying to propose to me?”

It hurts that you sound offended but he does deserve that. “No, not yet, we have a lot to do before proposing.” His hands rub over your naked belly as he looks down at you.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I have a lot of time between now and when you have them and I’m taking advantage of every second.”

You cough out a laugh, “You’re ridiculous. Our baby won’t be able to stand you, I bet.”

You don’t even notice the slip-up but he does -- ours, not my. “Of course, they won’t be able to stand, they’re a baby, they can’t even hold their heads up on their own.”

The pillow that was behind your head hits his face and he is laughing deep within his chest. You’re complaining about he’s going to evolve into worse and worse dad jokes but ah, if you are godly this must be heaven.

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ♡

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

𝕭ʟᴜᴇ 𝕳ʏᴅʀᴀɴɢᴇᴀ

_________________________

sᴜɢᴀʀ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ!sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x sᴜɢᴀʀ ʙᴀʙʏ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you come home from california after a year back to your old man

(Heavily inspired by Heroin by Lana Del Rey + Lightly by Old Money by Lana Del Rey)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:: major angsttt, smut 18+ minors dni plz, bit of fluff, age gap

TW/CW: past drug use [reader], post-rehab

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: lana del rey’s music gives me major sugar daddy!steve vibes idky lol

(also brief description of ‘reader’ written to have hair that can moved from the face is like one sentence sorry but ur giving daddy steve a bj)

___________________________

You grabbed your bags and walked to the pick up spot at the JFK airport. It’s been a year since you’ve been in New York and you missed the city terribly. You especially missed your old man.

You stood for a minute scanning the bodies that littered across the floor until your eyes met those beautiful cerulean blue eyes you spent so many hours looking into. Instantly tears brimmed your eyes watching him move swiftly past the people dressed so casually unlike his usual stature sporting that incredible all black suit he always wore.

He looked tired and drained. Like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Y/n,” he came up to you, cupping your face before pressing his lips to yours passionately, desperately.

“Fuck, Stevie. I missed you so much,” you cried.

“I missed you too. I thought about you all the time; everyday, every hour, every second,” he hugged you tightly.

“Stevie, I wanna go home,” you whispered against his lips.

“Let’s go home,” he told you.

Home.

It’s been so long since you’ve been home.

You got to the car and Steve told you to just wait in the car as he put your bags in the trunk. You smiled softly at him before slipping in the passenger's seat waiting to go home like you’ve been dreaming about since the day you left. Steve quickly slipped into the driver’s seat himself and drove off eager to go home and finally hold you close again.

The car ride was quiet. You watch the blurry lights through the wet glass window of the car and your mind could help but wander back to the day Steve saved your life.

One Year Ago

You stumbled your way through the elevator doors with a lazy smile on your face.

“Stevie!!” you screamed when you saw him sitting at the counter with a whiskey in hand.

“You’re late,” he said quietly.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Why were you out so late? I gave you a curfew,” she said sternly.

You weren’t giving him much time, your body was on fire. You unzip your dress, not so gracefully, strippping out of your clothes. You pranced around in your panties and a bra giggling and running around asking Steve to catch you but he was having none of your shit.

“Get your ass over here right now!” his voice boomed startling you.

He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead and roamed his hands along your body anyway but sexually. Your skin was extremely overheated and flushed. He was pissed. You had promised him the reckless behavior was over, but you couldn’t.

You were an addict.

“What the hell are you on?” he said firmly.

“Guess?” you were absolutely not taking this seriously.

“I’m not gonna ask twice; tell me!”

“Molly,” you whispered shamefully.

“God fucking dam-” he rubbed his face in frustration.

"Why do you even care so much you're- I- I'm nothing but a stupid sugar baby, anyway, " you slurred your words.

“You're more than that, and I know you fucking know it. You promised me you were going to stop! I’m done, I'm done” he breathed out. His chest felt like it was tightening, he couldn’t breathe anymore. He felt nauseous.

“No! No, no, baby; please!” you cling onto him like a child.

“You could’ve been hurt! What would happen if that shit was laced with something that could have killed you, hell taking it alone in the first place could have been the last straw! I’m doing this shit with you anymore.”

You cried, no you sobbed hysterically. You need Steve, he was your everything, your rock, your hope, your love. You knew you were a huge mess but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t know how. Didn’t know where to begin, who to go to. You felt alone.

You grew surrounded by money but when you moved to New York, you succumbed to the temptations and your parents were done with your shit. Meeting Steve, agreeing to this sugar baby thing was simply to use his money for drugs and alcohol, that’s all you lived for. Your life was over, might as well fuck yourself over while you're at it.

But you fell in love.

Goddamn, the man was perfect. He was treated with so much love and gentleness and compassion. You hadn’t felt so loved since you cut your ties with your parents and it hurt so good. You wanted to quit for him. The first night he found you disheveled and fucked, you were so embarrassed. You promised him it would stop that you were gonna be clean; but that only lasted twelve hours.

He should’ve ended it. He should’ve stopped whatever this relationship was. He told himself it was one time thing but once turned into twice, then four times until you went out every night getting high off your ass with anything that was available.

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. But like you, he fell in love too. He loved you. He really loved you. He couldn’t imagine his life without anyone else and the thought of losing you made him terrified.

“I’m done! I can’t sit here waiting for you every night wondering if you went too far! Staring at my fucking goddman phone waiting for the day they call and tell me you killed yourself! I can’t do it! You promised me you were done with this shit but here you are high off your ass again with molly,” he cried. Tears streamed down his face, his heart pained at the sight you breaking down.

“I need help, please,” you whimpered.

“Are you going to let me help you?” he sniffled.

“Yes! Please, help me,” you sobbed.

“Pack your things. You’re leaving for California tomorrow,” he said.

“What?”

“There is a rehabilitation center in California and I want you to go there,” he whispered.

“No-”

“Please, Y/n. it’s only for a year-”

“A year! No, I can't be away from you that long, please no!” you sobbed even more.

“It’s for the best,” he tightly holds you down.

“Why not here-”

“It’s for the best. I promise I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back. I swear,” he looked into your eyes.

“Stevie,” you cupped his face, “I don’t wanna leave you.”

“I know; I don;t want you to leave but I promise you’re gonna get on that airplane and you’re gonna come back and tell me everything’s ok, yeah?” he pressed his forehead.

“Ok. You make me feel I can change. I’m gonna come back and tell you that I have really changed,” you promised.

“I believe it,” he smiled.’

“Maybe California is good. Something about this city makes my head go crazy. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sick of it,” you told him.

“I love you; so much,” he whispered those words for the first time.

“I love you too,” you cried.

“You ok?” Steve pulled you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m just- I’m really happy to be home,” you choked out.

Steve grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips kissing you softly. His eyes stayed on the road every now and then glancing at you like a dream come true. You pulled up to the building where you two lived and Steve asked the entourage to take your things up for you. He lifted you in his arms with a beautiful hopeful smile and carried you to the apartment.

When the elevator door opened he practically ran to the bedroom nuzzling his face in your neck kissing lightly. You somewhat took in the familiar surrounding noticing no change since you’d last been there. It was bittersweet. He hadn’t changed a thing since you left.

“I missed you so fucking much, baby,” he whispered.

“Steve,” you sighed, combing your fingers through his hair.

“I’m never gonna let you go again.”

“You won’t have to. It’s all over; no more clubs, no drinking, no drugs, none of it. That girl, you used to call the queen of New York City, she’s gone. ”

“You’re still my queen,” he smirked, making you chuckle.

“I’m so fucking proud of you. You are so strong,” he praised.

You grabbed his neck and pulled him forward crashing your lips against his. You molded perfectly against like you were made for him. Like everything had led up to this moment. It felt different this time; his hands touching you delicately.

You two have had sex many of times but this time it was different.

He peeled your shirt off your body pressing kisses all over your chest. His tongue flicking over your nipple making you gasp softly. His hands gripped at your waist as he brushed his nose between the valley of your breasts.

You craved his skin on yours, practically clawing his shirt off his body. He got the memo and briefly sat up ripping his shirt off his body before falling back on top of you. His hips settled between yours and you could feel his growing erection poking through the material of his flimsy sweats.

You pushed him off your body, flipping him so you could straddle his waist; smiling devilishly as you brought your hands up to your breasts to massage them. Steve growled at the angelic sight above him pulling your hands away to replace them.

He twisted your nipples as you slowly grind your hips over his for a moment. That moment quickly died as you snaked down his body curling your finger over his pants. You languidly pulled them down his legs letting his erected cock spring free. You moaned at the sight, haven’t been able to see it since you left that fateful morning.

You wrapped your hands around the base of his cock and stroked his dick slowly pulling wanton moans from him that were music to your ears. You leaned forward and licked teasingly along the tip before swirling your tongue around it making him groan. His hand went to your head combing your hair from your face gathering it in a messy ponytail.

Your lips wrapped around his cock perfectly just that way he likes it; like you’ve a thousand times before. He looked to the ceiling and sighed at the pleasure you were giving to him. He was never one to make much noise during sex but he was craving your mouth wrapped around him; he couldn’t contain the moans and grunts that wanted to come out. He couldn’t wait until he’s buried between your thighs.

You cheeks hollowed around his dick sucking hard before you take him all at once repeating over and over again. Steve’s hold on your hair tightened with every bob of your head thrusting his hip in time with your rhythm. Hitting the back of your throat, Steve’s hip stuttered and his legs shook approaching his orgasm fast.

“No, I wanna come in you, baby girl,” he panted, pulling you off of his dick. You quickly discarded your panties before climbing back on top of him to straddle him, knees on either side on his hips. You cupped his face kissing him senselessly; passion and lust and most importantly love enveloping you two.

You lifted your hips briefly as Steve lined his cock with your soaking entrance and slowly sunk down allowing him to stretch you impeccably. You moaned in sync, like you were becoming one again after so long being unable to hold each other.

His arms wrapped around holding close as you waited a bit to adjust to his size again. He peppered faint kisses along your neck and collar bone, nipping playfully at your skin too. You felt so full and incredible basking in his attention and the feeling of your walls wrapped around him again.

You moved your hips back and forward, your clit grinding against his pelvis making you shiver in pleasure. You face tucked tightly in the crook of Steve neck, your thrusts getting faster and faster. Steve’s hands moved to your hips lifting you slightly before slamming you back down on his cock harshly. This made you throw your head with a cry of pleasure, strings of curse words flowing from your mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie. I missed your cock so much,” you whined.

“I missed you too baby,” he grunted.

You looked at his face watching it contort with pleasure, his eyes completely screwed shut overwhelmingly. Sweat lined his forehead, the shorter pieces of hair sticking to it. You brought your hand to it brushing his hairs back so you could see his face in it’s fullest beauty.

He peeled his eyes open, staring directly into eyes and breathed heavily in time with you. For a single moment between you both, time stopped. It felt as if the world was gone and all that mattered was right now; you being back in your old man’s arms again, the love of your life.

You couldn’t help the quick glance at his red swollen lips, desire to kiss them again overcoming you. You leaned forward capturing his lips for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, but it's something you’ve ever got tired of. The way slightly chapped lips molded perfectly with yours.

“I love you, baby,” he moaned.

“I- fuck!” you couldn’t even speak anymore when Steve’s thrusts became harder and faster desperate to chase both your’s and his orgasms.

“Look at me baby,” he growled, “You were fucking made for me. No one can ever fuck you like I can. No is ever gonna take care of you like I do. And no one, absolutely fucking no one, is ever gonna love you as much I do.”

Tears streamed down your face; overwhelmed with love and desire and lust. Steve saved your life and you owe him everything. You loved him evermore; he is everything. Steve kissed you again, addicted to your lips, tasting the salty tears that came from your hopeful and loving eyes. He wiped the tears away with his thumb.

“Stevie, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered.

“Come all over my cock baby girl. You deserve it,” he whispered.

Your body shook as you reached your high. Chanting Steve's name like prayer, like it was the only word you knew to say. Steve’s rutted his hips into one last time spilling his seed inside you, hot cum coated your velvety walls. You collapsed forward onto him and he held you tightly.

Your fragile body trembled against him and Steve's heart ached a bit. He knew you were overwhelmed, hell so was he. But he was so utterly happy to have you back. There were so many nights where Steve lied awake at night, unable to sleep without you, day-dreaming of a future with you when you’d come home. He knew you were a strong woman and he knew you were going to come back to him healthy and stronger than before.

He remembers the day he came back to New York after leaving you in California. He was with his old pal Bucky at a local bar in Manhattan. He’s always really known inside that he’d fallen in love with you, he’d proven already that he’d do anything for you. But that night is when he finally admitted it out loud to himself and to others. Steve can’t imagine his future with anyone else but you and he’ll be damned if something happened to you.

“Sweet girl, I love you with all my heart,” he whispered, stroking your back softly.

“Even when I’m old; when I shine from words and not from beauty?” you whispered.

“I will love you evermore,” he said.

He whispered more sweet things as you cried holding him tightly spending your first night back together in his arms. Before, you didn’t know where life was gonna take you; either to the moon or six feet under. But Steve swept you away to a promiseland and you’ll follow him blindly. It didn’t matter where life was going to take you next as long as you were with your old man, you were happy.

Completely and utterly happy.

=====================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison

@buckybarnes101

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

@stefans-wife

@cordeliaswhore

@fleurlovesbucky

@wandanatasha0720

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #sugar daddy!steve rogers #marvel smut #marvel fics #chris evans smut

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yunhostinyuyu · 3 years

Text

marks

pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

#wow idk why either just go with it #ateez #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez writing #ateez x reader #ateez san #choi san #ateez smut #ateez suggestive #san x reader #san x you #san fluff #san smut

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aiyaar · 3 years

Text

Nico di Angelo was ten years old when his life went to hell. He never felt so devastated, so ruined. The only person who cared about him, his family, his everything was gone.

Nico hated all of them. He hated sister for leaving him behind, as if he was nothing, just to die afterwards and leave him completely alone. He hated those stupid huntresses of Artemis for taking his sister away from him. He hated Annabeth Chase, whoever it was, for falling off the cliff and making them go on this quest. But most of all he hated him. Percy Jackson. The ultimate hero, so strong and cool. He hated everything about him. He let him down. Percy Jackson let his sister die.

It was already a month since Bianca left this world. A lonely, cold month. Grieve still strangled him. This month has passed in a blur.

Nico passed an empty street, not even bothering to lift up his head. Snow was falling from the white sky and Nico shivered slightly from the cold. He needs to find some warmer clothes.

The city clock struck twelve, sound cutting through the silence. Another day has come. As if Nico cared. Suddenly he stopped, absentmindedly looking at the date on the billboard. 28th January.

Nico titled his head. He didn’t even know his birthday was coming. He always loved his birthday, so excited to modestly celebrate it with Bianca. Bianca…

A lonely tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another. Nico didn’t bother to wipe them, letting them fall.

“Happy Birthday to me.” He said in a shaky voice, sitting in the snow right in the middle of the street. Nico buried his face in his palms, trying to quiet down choked sobs.

Nico di Angelo was eleven years old when he lost himself.

Nico di Angelo was eleven when he started to chase the dream of making his sister come back to life. He was obsessed with the idea, almost going mad in the company of hurt and angry ghosts.

Minos had promised him that he’ll see Bianca again. And Nico believed. What else he could do. He was alone. He was hurt.

Why can’t she talk to him? Why she doesn’t want to show up? She doesn’t want to see him. She despises him. She doesn’t want him.

Nico heard rustling sound under his boots. He picked up the newspaper, catching the date with his eyes. 1st February.

Well, another year passed. Nico didn’t care that he missed his birthday. But a little ache didn’t want to leave his heart as he remembered how Bianca smiled at him the day he turned ten.

And then, months later, she showed up, just to say him that he has to let go. Just to make Nico know that this plan wouldn’t work. Minos was a liar. He used Nico. His only hope was trampled.

Misery was what Nico felt. The weird, nasty feeling crawled up to his throat.

Aside from that, one image didn’t want to leave his mind. His face lived in his head, not wanting to leave. His stupid smile, green eyes, tousled hair. Why Nico keeps thinking of him?

Why did she want to talk to him, not Nico? This stupid guy, with his annoying grin made Nico want to- What?

Nico freezed, trying to finish this though. Did Nico want to kill him? Hurt him? No, it was something else. He felt weird every time he heard his name. Percy Jackson.

Nico di Angelo was twelve when he started to realize something about himself.

Nico di Angelo was twelve when he wanted to rip out his own heart. Abnormal, disgusting. He was sick of himself. He felt nauseous at the very thought of it.

It can’t be true, no. He’s mistaken.

He was lying on his bed at his father’s castle, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his face. Those gorgeous green eyes, goofy smile, tousled black hair. His mind was ranting: Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson.

Nico felt like he was about to cry. Why is he like this? Is he broken?

He looked to the side, at his night table. A bouquet of red roses stood there. An hour ago Persephone strode to his room with these flowers and a weird expression on her face. She silently put them in a vase and went back to the door. She stopped there, turning her head a little to look at him.

“Happy Birthday.” Was what she said. Then she left.

So it was his birthday. He’s thirteen now.

Nico stared at the flowers, a little bit shocked. She remembered about his birthday. His father didn’t even bother to check up on him.

Hades only cared about their deal. Nico was very hesitant about that. But after all, he agreed.

He just thought that if he does that then maybe Percy would… Like him? But he didn’t.

Percy Jackson hated him. He screwed everything up. It was horrible. He had to fix it.

So he did the best thing he could. He had to prove to Percy, to his father, to everyone that he is worth something. He was just a kid and the battle was scary. He was scared. But he was a hero.

Everyone respected him, some people wanted to be his friends. He even wanted to stay at camp. Nico was happy but only for a moment.

Days after the battle the whole camp started talking about how Percy and Annabeth finally kissed and got together.

Nico left without a warning. Not like he had anyone to warn. Not like anyone cared.

Nico di Angelo was thirteen when his heart was broken.

Nico di Angelo was thirteen when Percy Jackson had gone missing. Annabeth Chase went feral. And Nico promised to help. Of course he did.

He was actually worried. What could happen to him? Nico only knew that Percy was alive. It was somewhat reassuring.

Something bad was about to happen. Nico knew it. New demigods at Camp Half-Blood. One of them is a son of Zeus. That was a bad sign.

And now that Nico knows about romans…

Today was 28th January. His birthday. He already got used to ignore this day. Nico just marked the fact that he was fourteen now.

The door of his room swung open. Nico sat up on his bed, seeing his father in his usual black robes.

He stood there in silence for a minute or so, awkwardly staring at his son.

“Um, did you want something?” Nico said, nervously fumbling with the ring on his finger.

“Yes.” Hades came closer to his bed. “Well, not really. It’s just…” Lord of the Underworld sat on the corner of Nico’s bed. “It’s your birthday.”

Nico blinked, processing what his father was trying to say.

“Yeah, I know. Thank you for reminding me.” He finally said, scowling at his father. Like he ever cared about Nico anyway. “If that’s all you wanted to say-“

“No.” Hades looked strangely awkward. “You made me proud this year, you know?”

Nico’s eyes widened. Was his father trying to praise him?

“I wanted to say that I’m… Grateful. You made me make right choice. And what I said about you before… I’m sorry.”

Nico was more than shocked at this point. He felt awkward and Hades didn’t look better.

“Anyway, I vaguely know that mortals usually make gifts for the day one came from mother’s womb. And I thought that maybe you should spend time with your… peers?”

“What are you trying to say, dad?”

Hades took a deep breath, as if he was nervous.

“I want to give you a present. So that you will be able to go wherever you want, in those places where teenagers usually spend time.”

“You want to give me a car?” Nico asked, puzzled.

“No, you’re too young for that. I’ll give you a chauffeur, he’ll be helping you go to the mall or something. Because, well… I’m not able to do it for you.”

Nico blinked again, titling his head to the side.

“A chauffeur?”

Hades looked embarrassed for a moment. Then he put on a stern expression, standing up.

“Objections are not accepted. You should be grateful.” He strode off to the door. Then he stopped. “Happy Birthday, son.” He closed the door, leaving Nico alone in the dark room.

Nico di Angelo was fourteen when he received his first birthday present.

Nico di Angelo was fourteen when he met him. Will Solace.

It felt like a dawn after long, cold night. Will was his blessing, his salvation. And Nico didn't know what did he do to deserve someone like Will.

They've been dating for a couple of months, wonderful, amazing months. And Nico was genuinely thankful for everything Will had done to him.

Nico woke up at the knock on his door, blinking through the gloom of Hades cabin. He didn't know if it was morning already, because black curtains prevented any gleam of sunshine from crawling into his cabin.

Still, Nico knew exactly that it was early and he knew exactly who was outside, because there was only one person in this world who dared to wake him up.

Nico got out of bed and staggering came to open up the door.

Will Solace stood on the threshold. He was wearing his usual winter jacket and a scarf, a blinding smile on his face. He seemed to be particularly happy today and, judging by the flush on his face, he was running.

"Hey, Neeks." He ruffled his hair and came in, closing the door behind him as Nico shivered from the cold winter air.

"Good morning." Nico mumbled, still half asleep. "What time is it?"

"7 a.m."

"Why did you need to wake me up so early?"

Will looked him in the eyes, taking Nico’s cold hand with his warm one, which is weird, considering Will was the one who had a walk on winter air.

"Do you know what day it is?" He looked excited.

"Um, no, to be honest. I don't pay attention to the calendar." Nico sat down on his bed, wrapping himself in a blanket.

Will looked shocked.

"Are you serious?! I mean... It's 28th January!"

Nico's brain needed a moment to process what exactly Will wanted from him.

"Yeah. So?"

"So?! It's your birthday!"

Nico sighed.

"Guess I'm fifteen now. That also explains this." He pointed to his bedside table, where black envelope was perched on the top of black box. "Probably from my father."

Will looked at him, then at the envelope.

"So, like... Happy Birthday."

"Thank you." Nico got up again, reaching for the box. "Now go so I can change."

"Ok." Will strode off to the door, a strange expression on his face. Though Nico didn't pay much attention to it.

Nico opened the envelope. There was a thick wad of money and an invitation for a dinner. Nico will come, of course, but not today. In the box lay watches and a book in Italian.

The day went by as usual. Nico had a walk in the woods with Will before breakfast, then they were busy with their camp activities.

In the evening, right before they were about to go to the campfire, Will took his arm and told him.

"How about we won't go to the campfire today?"

"But you like-"

"I don't need to go there everyday. Especially today. Come to your cabin in twenty minutes." And he hastily strode off in the direction of the cabin thirteen.

Nico came in after twenty minutes to be met with dozens of candles around his room. Will was standing in front of him, holding a cake with fifteen lighted candles perched on it.

"Make a wish." He whispered as Nico came closer.

Nico looked him in the eyes and didn't know what to say. So he just did what he was told. Will smiled brighter.

"I baked it myself." He said proudly. "Well, Cecil helped me."

He put the cake on the table, now fumbling in his pockets.

"I have something for you, actually." He said, pulling out a small box from his pocket. "I don't know if you're going to like it but..."

Nico didn't hear what Will was saying as he opened the box with trembling hands. He pulled out a sun pendant on a thin gold chain. The sun looked just like the tattoo on Will's shoulder.

Nico couldn't hold back a tear that rolled down his cheek. Will watched him attentively, stopping his ranting when he saw it.

"Nico, what's wrong-"

The next thing Will knew, pale arms was wrapped tightly around him, Nico's face buried in Will's chest.

"Thank you." Nico said in a small, shaky voice before pulling back. He placed the sun pendant on his palm, watching it glisten in the candle light. Tears still rolled down his cheeks.

Will looked at him, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. He always understood. His sunshine was so alone, for so long. All Will wanted was to make him happy.

Will moved to embrace Nico in a tight hug, kissing the top of his head and then lifted his head with long, gentle fingers on his chin.

"I love you so much." He said. "You're such an amazing person. You're brave, gorgeous, smart, brilliant. Beautiful." He wiped the tear from Nico's cheek. "I will love you with all my might. I promise."

And with that he gently kissed Nico, making him smile while the tears of joy kept rolling down his cheeks.

"I love you, Will."

Nico di Angelo was fifteen when he found his happiness.

#nico di angelo #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo/hoo #will solace #jason grace #solangelo #frank zhang #annabeth chase #piper mclean #leo valdez #hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #trials of apollo

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neighborhoodparker · 3 years

Text

Book: Novitious

Word count: 2,191

Summary: Cedric dies. Cho wasn’t the one dating him.

Drabble, Cut Scene, or Request: Drabble! A version of this may potentially be seen in the books.

She felt like she had been sitting here for hours. The sleek wood seat underneath her rear had grown uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that no matter how much she shifted she was unable to find peace in her lower back and thighs. At this point, she was nearly ready to burst out of her own skin - her whole body was trembling in anxiousness for Cedric, her Cedric. Amos had long ago given up on trying to comfort the young girl. Instead, he had his own worry plastered across his body - shown in the way his right leg continuously brushed up and down against her left, shown in the worn fingernails he had started chewing on, shown in the way his eyes continuously raked across the hedge mass that filled what was once the Quidditch pitch.

Cedric’s favorite sweater had been pulled over her small frame before they had left the Hufflepuff dormitories to come to the pitch. It was a little big for her, as the sleeves fell past her hands and the left shoulder had slipped down to reveal some of her bare skin. She also had his most favorite, well-worn scarf curled loosely around her neck; he had given it to her as an extra way to keep her calm. The way his scent engulfed her from the clothes did take an edge off of her consuming anxiety, but it didn’t stop her body from shaking uncontrollably. She knew that something was wrong. Her gut was continuously twisting in on itself, making her feel nauseous and light-headed. She swore her heart was beating millions of beats per minute - she almost felt sick from how hot her skin was growing. In an effort to cook herself down, she shoved the sleeves up to her elbows. Her eyes made contact with Amos as she looked at him for the billionth time in the past ten minutes alone.

“He’ll be okay.” Amos whispered, offering her a shaky smile.

She wasn’t sure if he entirely believed the words he was saying to her. His whole posture screamed unease, and the glistening in his eyes was telling her that he felt the same undeniable sense of horror bubbling very deep within his bones. She took a deep, soft breath before forcing herself to return the smile. It felt awkward and out of place on her lips; she knew now wasn’t the time for such pleasantries. She shifted once more, leaning her right side into Neville’s left. He offered her a quick squeeze of her opposing shoulder, but his eyes were transfixed on the hedge looming in front of them. She had to assume the reason she was so anxious was because of everyone around her. Her empathic tendencies were making it way worse than it needed to be. Cedric would be fine. She didn’t think Dumbledore would want to risk losing someone so kind, so good, so strong. He would want him when the war she knew was on the horizon finally collapsed upon their reality.

Her hand found Neville’s, lacing their fingers together. She had been continuously going back and forth between holding his hand, leaning against him for comfort - and offering her own shoulder for Amos to briefly lean against as new waves of anxiety drowned over him. She had lost track of where her boyfriend was in the maze a while ago; if she was asked, she wouldn’t be able to tell how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity since he and Harry had disappeared within the misshapen claws of the final Triwizard Tournament task.

After she had grasped his hand, trying not to hold it too tightly, she managed to steal a glance of two forms appearing outside of the maze. Her view was then obscured by the sudden movement of everyone around her; their various builds jumping to their feet in lieu of celebratory noises. The music began to play, but she couldn’t fight the panic that began to build in her chest. It bubbled quickly. It simply started around her heart as it constricted, inching down inside her before it slammed into her lungs - taking all air out of her body as her diaphragm was soon swallowed by what she could only recognize as dread. It quickly spread after, making every inch of her body feel numb. She was caught off-guard; she wasn’t sure why she was experiencing such hysteria. Another deep breath filled her lungs as she noticed Amos was trying to get through the horde that kept him stuck by his seat.

Her body went to follow, but was quickly pulled to a halt. Neville was gripping her hand in a fashion that almost hurt. She met his eyes with confusion - he was filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, like it was a mixture. Dumbledore was yelling at Harry in the background. Every sound made it clear to her that she had been shoved under water, that she was on the verge of drowning in something she hadn’t yet discovered. She realized, with shock, that the emotions he was showing were a mixture of fear, sorrow, and distress. He discovered something she didn’t. Her eyebrows furrowed as she went to follow Amos again and his grip tightened, preventing her from moving.

“Nev, are you crazy? Let me go,” She tugged her arm. “Cedric’s there.”

“Isobel, you can’t go down there.” He stated.

“Neville, let me go.” She pulled against him again, starting to give him a glare.

“Is…” He trailed off.

“Neville. Let. Me. Go.” She demanded.

Her attention was drawn away from him for a split second, allowing her to see as the crowd around her paused - almost as if they were all involuntarily holding in the same exact breath. He seemed to grip even tighter on her wrist - and she cried out in response. He was trying to keep her from seeing something traumatizing, but was hurting her in the process. She could almost feel the regret of it oozing out of his body.

“You’re hurting me.” She almost growled, starting to become hysteric as she tried to pull away from him. ”Neville, please let go.”

He refused, but it didn’t matter. In the next second, screams from Amos were filling the air - letting everyone know his anguish in something that had to do with his son. She slammed her foot against Neville’s groin without even thinking. She jerked her hand back as he doubled over in pain but she didn’t stay to make sure he was okay. Her body moved on it’s own as she shoved through the crowd, pushing and shoving to get down the stands, down to where she had briefly seen the outline of Cedric and Harry.

Someone was calling her name. She couldn’t tell who it was in her state of pure alarm, but if she had glanced back she would have seen Neville moving to grasp Draco’s arm - to hold him back from running to her. It was difficult to get through the mass of students, almost like they were all attempting to block her from getting down to the Diggorys. She could hear the older man sobbing, and she knew that the feeling she had in her gut since she had said goodbye to him wasn’t a mistake. Something awful, terrible, wretched had happened out in the maze.

She finally broke through the horde, and all anyone could hear was a loud, awful, gut-wrenching shriek. Laying there, in his father’s arms, was the first person she had really loved with her whole heart. And he was pale. Lifeless. His eyes stared blankly at the sheet of stars above him, his chest giving no movement. His father was clinging to him like he was the only thing still anchoring him to the world. The grief she felt yanked her forward; it made her legs collapse, her lungs stall, her eyes widened. She was caught by the rough embrace of someone - nearly taking both of them down to the ground with the blunt force of her anguish. She barely recognized that it was Harry as he pulled her into his chest. He tried to hide her from the heart-breaking sight in front of her - even though he knew it would forever be etched in her mind.

Suddenly she was seven years old again, breaking as Draco’s arms held her. Suddenly, she was back in the home she hadn’t seen in months - back in the manor that she had lost so much of her childhood to. Draco was holding her tightly, almost like he was scared she would sink through the floor and disappear if he didn’t try to hold all of her pieces together. Suddenly, it was her mother splayed out on the marble floor, her spiritless body outlined by a growing crimson puddle. She wasn’t fifteen, collapsed on the field of a Quidditch pitch in the arms of Harry. She was at home, witnessing the cruelty of her father; witnessing her world crashing down around her. She was experiencing a pain she thought nothing could ever beat. Her sobs were filling the large foyer of her father’s home, echoing throughout the empty space that was just so previously filled with screams from her mother, that was filled with Draco begging her to stay back with him.

And it didn’t matter if she was fifteen or seven. Because her heart broke all the same. The pain in her chest was immense, vast, monumental. It engulfed her. Her heart had been seized out of her chest and thrown at the ground, just before it was stomped, crushed, pulverized underneath the cruel heel of life. She shattered as her brain filtered through a long list of everything she would never get to see through with Cedric, filtered through the myriad of things his father would never live to see, filtered through the life they one day could have had. And she was that fifteen year old collapsed on the pitch. She was the fifteen year old girl struggling to stay afloat as her grief threatened to drown her. She was the fifteen year old girl who had just lost the one thing that had seen her through her darkest moments.

There she was, wishing the same blond-haired boy was there holding her as her whole world churned, tumbled, disintegrated. But she had a brown-haired boy instead, one with uncontrollable locks and teary eyes hidden behind crooked frames. She took what she was given, accepted that she had lost that blond-haired boy two years ago, accepted that she had Harry. She forced her hands to relieve their tight grip on his jersey before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he hugged her tightly to his shaking form. He was crying right along with her and she wanted to help him, wanted to comfort him and reassure him that everything would eventually be okay. But she didn’t want to lie to him, she couldn’t. She didn’t believe that they would be okay again. Cedric was a loss to the Wizarding World. He was a loss that she didn’t know that she could bounce back from, that anyone could bounce back from. He was a lively, beautiful soul that had offered her a safe haven - he had given so many people hope that things would turn out okay.

Instead, Harry was here - comforting the girl who was always there for other people. It broke her even more to think of how she was failing to help those she loved, but she couldn’t calm herself down enough to help him out. Her chest was still heaving with panic and, though the tears had stopped, her shoulders still shook from the force of now silent sobs. She was terrified that he would let her go, that he would help her back to her dorm and leave her alone. She didn’t want to be left alone; she hadn’t been since she had first met Cedric, since she had moved in with Sirius. She couldn’t handle this loss. She didn’t know what would happen if she was left alone.

“Harry, do you think you could carry her? Let’s clear the area. We’ve already got most of the audience out.” A rough, cracking voice spoke up - pulling her attention away from her screeching thoughts.

She only moved to cling more securely to Harry, squeezing her eyes closed as the owner of the voice pulled them off the ground. She didn’t want to get another glimpse of Cedric. It was already carved into her brain. It took her far too long to process that the voice belonged to Mad-Eye Moody, but she didn’t care. She was more worried that Harry would decide she was okay alone and would leave her. Even so, she was more worried about the feeling of dread growing once again in her stomach. It was almost unsaid between the two of them that they knew that Cedric’s death marked the beginning of the war. This would only be the first of many deaths that would completely alter her existence.

#trsdrafts #theredemptionseriesdrafts

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

ruining the plan isn't always so bad

you can tell whenever I have really important things to be doing in my life - bcos instead I will spend hours writing for no apparent reason ah kmn ;///

tomhollandxreader - pure fluffffff

Summary: tried to base off when Dom and Sam surprised Tom shooting a couple of years back- but this time they got Y/n with them too

(I don't own the pic nor claim to ...idk how to do this crediting bit sorry :/)

The plan was in place. Tom was really struggling with homesickness on set of his newest film. No real reason why; just long hours, living out of a hotel room, half the world away from ‘home’. Harry was always flying out to join Tom as his ‘assistant’ however after a pretty heart-wrenching phone call Tom had made to Y/n, while she was hanging around with Haz and Harry at the Holland’s house... the plans had changed somewhat. He just seemed so distant and run down, when Nikki got her turn on the phone she instantly knew that they had to do something. Naturally then, putting her superior organising skills to good use she arranged for Dom, Sam and Y/n to accompany Harry to Atlanta; and surprise Tom there.

The way the last minute booking happened meant that Harry, Sam and Dom were all flying out on the same flight (though Harry was in first class, while the surprise guests were in economy). Y/n, because of her university timetable, couldn’t leave till a bit later, so was on a plane 2 hours after the Hollands - it wouldn’t make that much difference and if anything would prolong the joy of the excitement for Tom. They, meaning Harry who was oddly invested in the intracacies and details, had been brainstorming different ways to do the reveal- not sure whether to just do it in the hotel when Harry would be meeting Tom anyway, or waiting and surprising him when they were out for dinner or in a bar. Eventually they’d decided it would just be easier to have Harry, Dom and Sam just meet him at the hotel- then take him out to dinner, allowing time for Y/n’s later expected time of arrival, where she would then appear at the restaurant.

Ever since Harry had let Tom know that he’d landed (if half an hour late), Tom had been excitedly texting him back constantly. The pair had agreed that Tom would simply meet him in Harrys hotel room when he got back from set. Yet when the time came, Sam and Dom were hiding just further down the corridor- waiting in the corridor. From their hideaway a couple of metres down the way from Tom and Harry, the obvious exctiement they could hear when Tom arrived and the two reunited warmed Dom’s heart. He just loved his sons all being so close- it was perhaps what he was most proud of as a parent. Especially after witnessing both Harrison and Y/n loose a parent, he knew if god forbid anything happened to him and Nikki - they had each others backs completely. Sam was excitedly shifting from foot to foot hearing his brothers - Dom just subtly shook his head at the endearing nervous energy, clearly Sam was impatient for his turn. The idea was Sam would knock first then Dom, so after allowing a short time of just Tom and Harry reuniting, Sam pranced down the hallway and knocked. Yet it wasn’t Tom who flung the door open to Sam as per the scheme, instead his fuzzy haired twin.

“Harry what the fuck” Sam mouthed, daring to glance over his shoulder to attempt to spot Tom - annoyed at his brother for getting in the way.

“He’s on the shitter, change of plan bring Dad in.” Harry whisper-explained, making Sam roll his eyes at Tom unintentionally ruining his own surprise, before retreating to the hallway and beckoning his dad in. Dom pulled an equally bemused face until Harry filled him and he chuckled - earning him a harsh shush from both boys as they sat on the bed, facing the toilet door.

“So why did it take you so long to get here?” Tom asked through the thin loo wall, while Harry pushed his dad to sit further over on the bed.

“Oh ermm….they had some mix up with the luggage so we” Immediately getting slapped on the leg by his twin with a piercing glare, Harry corrected himself “I mean -I had to wait for like an hour and a half to get my suitcase. Then I think I had the worst taxi driver in the world like down country roads and all.”

“Yeh like that drive should take like 40 minutes I thought? But when you texted me saying just left” He paused as the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink turning on flooded through the room ”that must’ve been at least an hour ago”

“I guess” Harry replied, hearing the tap turn off while Sam ran his fingers through his hair yet again - an excited or nervous tick.

“So how is everyone? I tried to call Dad and Y/n today but-“ The door opened, the stream of light flooding into the main room. Tom stopped dead in his tracks, voice cutting off but mouth hanging agape, still clutching onto the doorhandle.

“Hello son”

Dom spoke softly as he stood up from his choreographed position on the bed. Only at his words did Tom believe this was actually reality and literally sunk to his knees at the boundary between the ensuite and bedroom. He was awash with pure emotion, mainly relief - this was the exact thing he really needed right now. His dad soon pulled him up and hugged him, Sam following close behind. Tom’s reaction was priceless, the few tears being more than enough of a tell to his family how much he had needed this.

It was an emotional reunion, there was a hell of a lot of hugs and suddenly the 14 hour journey was so worth it to Dom and Sam. Afterwards, they just all sat together on the bed and caught up on each others lives, Tom not really wanting to speak about himself - much preferring to hear all their stories from home about his mum and grandparents and the family that live down the road. He loved the normalcy of it.

That was until a voice grabbed the attention of the whole room and Harry inwardly and silently cursed himself - in all the excitement he’d left his phone on silent in his jacket pocket, which was hanging on the coat rack so he hadn’t even heard it vibrate.

“Harry pick up your phone!” An exasperated voice exclaiming from the hallway half caught the Hollands’ attention, their heads all spinning in unison to the wooden hotel room door. It started to jerk open as Y/n wrestled with her suitcase ”You’ve left your hotel room open you div.Anyway I’m just dropping my case in your room so please text me where to go because - ugh- because right now you could all be anywhere in Atlanta and I-”

The conversation within the room had died- all of them watching the petite brunette fight her way past the door with a silver suitcase that seemed ridiculously large and heavy for a weeks holiday. She had pressed her phone to her ear using her right shoulder and was wearing beige tracksuits a white crop top and a black leather jacket - as she grunted in frustration at the case, yanking it unceremoniously over the threshold. Subtly, Sam looked up at Tom, seeing his brothers eyes widen in shock, whole body turned completely rigid and Sam had to smile smugly - it was actually quite cute, even if he would never admit it to their faces. Y/n only stopped speaking into the receiver when her eyes finally darted into the room - noticing she had an audience.

“Oh.”

She stopped herself, pressing the end call button and pocketing her phone, whilst moving into the centre of the room. She shot an apologetic smile to Harry, knowing she’d technically ‘ruined’ his plan - though to be fair it wasn’t her fault he didn’t answer the phone; or that his flight had been delayed meaning he didn’t get Tom to the resturaunt at the agreed time. Actually she could blame it all on Harry. He just rolled his eyes back at her whilst she looked past him and onto the shellshocked face of her boyfriend.

Not being able to hide her grin, she halted at the foot of the bed, meanwhile Tom leant forward from the headboard - his eyes not leaving her. “You gonna say hi or am I just gonna stand here?” Y/n smirked, Tom still not moving from his shellshocked stance. Slowly her smirk morphed to a concerned look, eyebrows drawn inwards, as her look darted between Dom and Tom.

“Tom are you okay?” she tried speaking gently, but before she could push anymore he launched himself off the sofa and into her arms, Y/n barely staying upright. Then Tom started spinning her round and round all the while squeezing her as tightly as possible. Y/n squealed an ‘I love you’ into his ear , already knowing Tom wasn’t ready to talk yet- instead just pressing his face closer into her neck. After a short while Tom lowered her to the ground and pulled away enough for Y/n to see the smudged tears around his eyes. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and looked deep into his mahogany brown eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now” he nodded jerkily, all the while inching his lips closer to hers. Both consciously aware of half the Hollands just viewing them, their kiss was fleeting and light - but made Tom’s heart want to burst.

“God I’ve missed your stupid face” She laughed, now her eyes filled with tears too. He let out a breathy chuckle in reply and used his thumb to wipe away a single droplet that escaped her eye.

“Missed yours more” her smile lit up the entirety of her face, such a natural glow across her face Tom shook his head slightly marvelling at her.

“Ohhkkkayyy well I don’t really want to witness the making of nieces and nephews”

“Harry” Dom warned in a disapproving tone, even if he did have to fight back the laughter. To be quite honest he’d really enjoyed seeing his son and almost adopted daughter reunite. Both him and Nikki absolutely loved their relationship, they just went together oh so well, whilst slightly reminding them both of their younger carefree days. Harry rolled his eyes at his dad before continuing.

“But shall we get dinner and then you can be alone all night” His eyebrows wiggled in such a manner Y/n swore she felt a little nauseous witnessing it.

“Harry stop!” Sam interjected, elbowing Harry harshly in the side, earning him a playful slap in return.

“Someone remind me why I’m paying the wrong twin to be my assistant?” Tom still hadn’t looked away from Y/n as he quipped a response at Harry, while Y/n was gently stroking up and down his cheeks with such a soft look in her eyes.

“Because I rejected it” Sam smirked, making Harry yell out in anguish-

“I was second choice?!?!”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Honestly just go play golf with your them! I have to do uni work anyway and-“

“But I don’t want to leave you! You’ve flown here too and I missed you.” Tom moaned, pressing a kiss into her hair from her position lying on his shoulder. Having slept uninterrupted for the first time in ages, Tom wasn’t even sure he wanted to venture away from Y/n and the bed at any point that day- even if it was for golf.

“Your dad and Sam are only staying for the weekend so make the most of it! Me and my uni work are happy here-“ Tom’s eyes once again bugged out his face, as he caught on to her slip up.

“How long are you staying?” Shit. That was another thing she’d spoiled - getting a reputation to be as bad as Tom. Harry was for sure going to kill her.

“Oh fuck sake… that was my second surprise ruined… I’ve booked a week and a half off from uni so I can look after my little baby boy”

“Y/n don’t joke with me please.” Tom sat up, forcing Y/n to too which she huffed a little at, disrupting her comfort. It had her sitting up straight so she could look him in the eye and resting her hand on his exposed abdomen, asserting her authority on him.

“I promise! My flights home next tuesday, but I’m missing uni so I have to be boring and keep up so it’s not a real holiday but-“

“I love you”

Tom smiled for Y/n could never not surprise him. University was so important to her - she was really dedicating her life to it, especially financially. So her managing to put it on hold to look after him in a time of need was testament to just how kind and caring she truly was.

“But you need to promise to look after yourself Tom. I haven’t seen bags under your eyes quite as impressive as this before. Think of your poor make up artists!” And she was back to being her usual sarky self.

“I feel like I should be offended?”

“Or you can learn. Now go get showered before they leave without you.” Finally ralling off his side, then pushing him forcefully so he half rolled off the side of the bed.

“Only if you shower with me.” The biggest smirk on his face, eyes wide and gleaming with mischief - which Y/n wanted to punch off so badly. On the other hand though, his idea didn’t sound half bad- letting him drag her up too.

5 or so hours later, Y/n had written her assignment due in for next week and had submitted it online- making her feel pretty darn put together. She knew the boys had got back from the golf, and from the WhatsApp group Tom wasn’t very happy about his performance, so he was going to be moody. After closing her laptop triumphantly she chucked it in her bag and grabbed the spare key card and roamed the corridors of the hotel to find Sam and Dom’s room - where they all where. Tom had messaged her to let her know they were filming Dom’s podcast, so she had to be stealthy in her entrance - since to the public they were still just good friends. The secret still wasn’t ‘out’ so to speak.

They’d left the door on the latch, allowing Y/n carefully pushing it open without making any noise. Immediately the golf-related bickering met her ears, while she peeked her head round the corner of the door. The four had set up armchairs by the window, with the camera balanced on top of a table and a stack of suitcases - in order for Harry to get the ‘perfect’ shot. Silently chuckling at the precarious arrangement, Y/n slid in through the door, turning round to gently close it shut again without noise.

As soon as Tom had seen the door opening he had jumped out of his chair, walking up to Y/n and wrapping his arms round her- pulling her back into his chest off camera. Whispering a silently ‘I love you’ he grinned at the girl who was now arching to look into his eyes. She mirrored his sentiments, placing a bottle of water in his hand while pushing him back into frame.

In reality, the whole of this podcast Tom had been attempting to summon energy in his body that was just not present. Don’t be mistaken, he had thoroughly enjoyed the time with his dad and brothers- but simply he only had today and tomorrow off filming for another 2 weeks, and the plan had been to stay as close to his bed as possible before the surprise happened. In all honestly, he caught his eyes drooping numerous times while they were filming the podcast- feeling safe in the surrounding of his family, the exhaustion was finally catching up to him.

Y/n spent the rest of their podcast hidden behind the camera, doing some extra research on Sam’s double bed - yet sometimes having to stifle a chuckle at the boys filming. It was perhaps another 25/ 30 minutes before they finished, during which there was a hell of a lot of spoilers that they only realised too late could not be included. She really really did try to focus on her work, yet instead she found her eyes being drawn to her boyfriend. He still looked shattered. All she really wanted to do was wrap him in a thick duvet and cuddle into his side. She even promised herself to only find his occasional snores endearing tonight, which was something she often struggled with normally.

So when the camera was clicked off, Y/n spent a short amount of time chatting with all the Hollands, before suggesting they went to their own respective rooms before dinner. Unconsciously, when Y/n had suggested it, out of pure relief, Tom leaned almost all his weight against her side - anchored by the strong clasp on her hand. Of course, Y/n noticed and practically pulled Tom down the hallway without saying a word. Only when she let go of the door of their room, allowing it to close with a small slam, did she speak her mind.

“You shower, I’m getting room service then movies in bed… no arguments Holland.” He stared at her ,mouth agape, a little taken aback by her assertiveness, typically the opposite of Y/n.

“I feel like you’ve just been inside all day, let me-“

“Nope. Nope. My holiday this is what I want… now shoo” She smirked, pushing him toward the ensuite door. Tom knew he did not have a choice in the matter, and even if he could possibly have some sort of influence- he was way too tired to argue.

Barely 15 minutes later, the two were wrapped cosily in the crisp white bedsheets, Tom with a small glass of a negroni cocktail and Y/n with her lime soda. Both were semi-reclined in a mound of pillows, yet Tom felt the need to also lean on her chest slightly. The familiarity of Y/n’s favourite movie ‘sunshine on leith’ playing on the screen, meant that within the first 10 minutes Tom was no longer alert. The smell of her perfume and the warmth of the duvet lulled him into a much needed slumber, making Y/n have to save the half-drunk negroni from spilling across the bedsheets as his grip relaxed. She just nestled in to the pillows further, a satisfied small grin dancing on her lips as she looked ahead at the TV, reducing the volume a little.

“Tom?…..Y/n?… Is anyone home?” A familiar voice sucked Y/n out from the next film ‘the greatest showman’, making her jump a little. Recognising it to be Dom instantly, Y/n had a mini argument in her head - whether to risk disturbing Tom by wriggling out from under him; or to call out instead, granting Dom independent entrance to the hotel room. It was possibly a bit of a weird position for her unofficial father-in-law to see his son and his girlfriend in, but she cared more right now about Tom resting than Dom’s opinions.

“Dom…. come in… it’s open I think.” Desperately trying to get the volume right - enough so Dom could hear, but not so much as to wake Tom she called out, craning her neck toward the door. Luckily almost immediately Dom let himself in, and quizzically walked in seeing Y/n in bed.

“Sorry… it’s just I didn’t want to disturb him” Nodding in understanding, Dom inspected the state of his grown up, yet childlike son, asleep on her shoulder.

“No no… he needs it. He always works himself raw for jobs but this…”

“It’s impressive even for him.” Y/n agreed, Dom noticing her unconscious stroking of his sons arm, soothing Tom as he slept.

“Well me and the boys were trying to phone you both because we are going for dinner-“

“Ah sorry my phones in my bag”

“No no it’s fine… just it looks like Tom could do with an extra hour or so.” Dom motioned again to the slumbering figure with his trademark small grin, finding the whole situation entirely heartwarming.

“I was planning on waking him up so we could all go to the pub this evening… but yeh skipping the dinner might be a plan. I know it’s your last night and all but-“

“-Don’t apologise Y/n. I’m glad you’re looking after the kid.” Y/n just smiled slightly, a small blush glowing from her cheeks. “I’ll um….leave you in peace… so maybe 9 o’clock? That gives you both 3 and a bit hours.”

“Sounds good!”Still speaking softly, Y/n freed one of her hands from the duvet and gave Dom a little wave as he exited the room giving a nod to her as the door closed.

It was a sign of the times. Dom used to be Tom’s go to whenever he was tires, frazzled or fed up. But now he had been superseded by a far superior option. A kind, beautiful, intellectual choice - that Dom would graciously accept defeat to.

He was awfully glad Tom had Y/n in his corner. And he was awfully glad he had found a surrogate daughter in Y/n too.

#tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tomholland #Harry Holland #fluff #Tom Holland tired #Tom Holland angst

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

Note

High school Sunny enthusiast here! Would you mind sharing a couple more headcanons about it? I’m so glad you’ll be able to teach again this fall, you totally deserve to develop your passion at full potential 👏🏻

Am I showing up after forever of being gone? Yeahhhhh Sorry y’all got the brain sads lol but!! I’m back w one of my favorite little universes! I actually had a meeting for our teacher prep program on Thursday which is so exciting!! We’re being assigned our working teachers sometime this month which is insane to me.....Anyway today I’m gonna clean and write!! Take some headcanons nonnie you helped to make me feel inspired again!

This ended up being more Sunny and his Mom than Sunny and high school, but it gets there!! So Sunny’s mom used to make him and Mari bag lunches almost every day. The only day she didn’t was on Fridays, because those were pizza days, and she knew pizza was Sunny’s favorite

She made their lunches the night before and they sat on the back right corner of the fridge. She liked to keep it pretty standard- usually a sandwich (or leftovers from their dinner), a snack, a piece of fruit, and some sort of dessert. Sunny used to sit at the kitchen counter and watch her make their lunches right before he went to bed.

It was one of the special things that was him and his mom. He got to choose what they had for a snack, what piece of fruit the two of them had, even what went in their sandwiches. He was the one that chose Caprisun or water bottle. He got to help his mom write a little note for Mari to read on a sticky note when she ate her food the next day at school.

It started as a practical thing (Sunny was such a picky eater, it was best that he decided what they ate so he would actually eat his food) but then it was just their tradition

Sunny was never talkative per say, but during this routine of theirs Sunny’s mom could ask him about his day or his friends, and Sunny would do more than nod or shake his head.

After Mari died, after her husband left, they didn’t need bag lunches anymore. Sunny didn’t go to school, and Mari couldn’t. Sunny wouldn’t speak, not even his infuriatingly endearing head nods and shakes. He just slept. All day long.

But after they move, after those last three days where she left him alone, something changes. At first his mother is furious with herself. She left him alone and he ended up in the hospital, how could she do that? How could she do that to her last living baby? But Sunny is changed, and not in the bad way. He’s getting up, he’s going out, he’s even seeing his friends.

She had been treating him like her baby again. She had thought that’s what he needed. He needed someone to cuddle him close and tell him he was loved. He had needed someone to make excuses, to let him sleep and process. He had needed to be in the house where he was safe and not out in the world where he could get hurt. He needed his mommy

But....maybe that had been what she needed.

Admitting you got it wrong as a parent is not easy. It gets swallowed down like medicine and lemon rinds. It bubbles in the stomach and leaves you nauseous and unsettled. But seeing her son growing in front of her, seeing the shell she had left him in beginning to crumble shows her that yes. She did get it wrong. She had let them both stagnate.

When he tells her he wants to go back to school, she cries. She cries a lot. He is clearly very uncomfortable, but Sunny’s mother holds him tightly and cries. She calls the local high school that day and tries to explain their situation. Sunny had been doing some online classes over the last four years, but his grades were abysmal, and his mother is pretty sure he hadn’t learned a thing.

The school agrees to take on Sunny, but they put him in a grade below his own. He will graduate a year late, but he will for sure graduate. That they promise her. His last school just let him fall by the wayside. This school is already planning out special practices just for him. Sunny’s mother settles the fear in her. Her boy will be looked after this time.

They are worried about his socialization and ask if there’s any hobbies he has. She can only think of blank stares and sleeping, but she tries to remember the quiet sweet boy her son used to be. She remembers endless sketchbooks and colored pencils, and the oh so perfect melody of her children together. On a whim she enrolls him in Orchestra and Art with assurances that if he doesn’t like them he can switch them out.

The night before his first day of school, she walks into the kitchen and beckons him to follow her. They don’t have a bar counter space for him to sit at anymore, but Sunny hops up next to the fridge. Normally she would scold him for doing this, but she just asks what kind of fruit he wants.

He tells her peaches, and she carefully carves them into perfect slices the way her mother used to do for her. She and Sunny begin their traditions once more.

Sunny goes back to school and it is not easy. She doesn’t make it easy. Not on him, not on his teachers, and not on the administration. She calls at least three times a week, telling them that it’s too much. They tell her to back off, to let him stumble. It’s terrifying to do that. It’s worse than any fear to let her child fall and hurt himself. But she does. She does because she’s seen the changes since she left him alone those days in the beginning of the summer.

One full semester is what the administration asks of her. Just two quarters for him to find his footing without her influence. They will reconvene over winter break to make adjustments, but she needs to let him fail if that’s what’s going to happen. He needs a mother, not a mommy. They don’t know the knife they’ve twisted when they say those words, but that knife is exactly what she needed. She agrees.

Sunny struggles to adjust but he does. His failed tests and missed classes slowly disappear one by one. He brings home a practice violin she did not buy from him, and he plays when he thinks she’s asleep. It’s quiet and unsure, but the music is there.

He invites her to his concert. She does not hug him and cry again, even though she wants to. He isn’t a baby, he doesn’t need her to fawn over him. She agrees to come, and secretly begins to covert with Kel’s mother.

She waits outside Sunny’s school for them all to arrive. Hero has come home from college for a long weekend for this. She greets each of them with a firm hug, something she hasn’t done in years. Even Basil, although he seems slightly terrified of her. They sit together in the audience and watch Sunny perform.

She cries as she watches him. She doesn’t recognize this boy. This is not her baby, not the same child she loved and then lost alongside his sister. He’s changed, someone new is on that stage performing, someone for her to discover and love.

She had been so afraid of this, so scared for that change, so sure it would only end in another dead child. Now there’s a teenager, not a child in front of her. He’s not so tall and not so strong, but he is alive and real right in front of her, and she is growing.

She can finally start to let herself be his mother.

#asks #anon #high school sunny #violinist sunny #can't remember the tag i use #omori #omori headcanons #omori headcanon #omori sunny #omori sunnys mother #omori sunnys mom #sunnys mother #She's just...struggling #but she loves him

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 16

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It was 2006, one of the last seasons for Beacon Hills Girls lacrosse. The other girls on the team and I fought hard but it would be over by the time my senior year rolled around. We thought if we had made it to the state championships, we would save it. Here’s to hoping. As team captain, all eyes were on me to make the season great. We were lined up on the field, ready for the toss up. I stared into the eyes of the opposing player, the girl’s eyes were determined. But so were mine, I glanced to the side at the bleachers. There was Uncle Noah, Stiles, and Scott, cheering me on. I was just happy Stiles came today.

I looked back up, just in time for the pearl toss, I scooped it from the air, immediately shoving passed the opposing player. I ran down the field, narrowly missing players looking to tackle. I threw the ball towards an open offensive player just as someone slammed me from the side. I grunted as I hit the ground, hearing the crowd wince. I got myself up on my arms and looked down the field. My player was able to get through the other team’s defense and scored the game winning goal. Coach Finstock laughed loudly, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd. I stood up, raising my crosse in the air and shouted into the sky. I ran back to the bench, congratulating my teammates. But now I needed to see him. I pushed through the crowd, I looked around. As I got through the crowd, I was left alone. I was staring out into the woods. An eerie feeling came over me. There was something out there.

“Hey!” Michael’s smiling face came into my vision, causing me to smile.

“Hey.” I smiled, looking back at the crowd, “Have you seen Derek?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at me, “Who’s Derek?” I paused, asking myself the same question.

“I don’t know.”

“So let me get this straight,” I said into the phone. I was on the phone with Stiles getting a recap of what had happened over the last couple days, “You stole a police transport vehicle-”

“We put gas in it!”

“Of course, you did. You stole a transport van, filled it with gas, kidnapped Jackson to talk to him, left him in the woods. Jackson’s father, a lawyer, has issued two restraining orders against you and Scott.” I made sure to separate the kanima and Jackson. “Found out the kanima is being used by a ‘master’. Is that it?” Derek raised his eyebrows at the conversation.

“I was also grounded from Scott.” He added.

“Unfortunate.”

“When are you coming home?” He asked, hushing his voice a little, “I’m all for you living out your best werewolf life but I would rather you be home.” I motioned for the group of Derek, Erica, and Isaac to go ahead of me.

“When I have the courage to face your dad. Or when my lie that I’m staying at a friend’s house doesn’t work anymore. Whatever comes first.” I sighed, “I’ll try to come home soon. I need to apologize.” After our goodbyes, I hung up the phone.

After I stepped into the railway car, I made it just in time for our “pack meeting” to start.

“So, why do we need their help?” Isaac asked.

“Because it’s harder to kill than I thought, and I still don’t know who it is.” Derek said impatiently.

“And they do?”

“They might. Which is why I need one of you to get on their good side.”

“Mmm. Scott or Stiles?” Erica hummed flirtatiously. Honestly, I don’t think she realizes she’s barking up the wrong tree, no pun intended. Scott was more focused on Allison than his own life and Stiles was in a persistent pursuit of Miss Lydia Martin.

“Either.” Derek sighed, probably fed up with her new found flirtatious nature.

“Good luck with that.” I said under my breath, causing the group to look at me, “What? The last time they saw you, you broke into Scott’s house and tried to kill them.” Isaac titled his head to the side and nodded a little in agreement.

Isaac turned to Derek, “You know, the full moon's coming, Derek.”

"I'm aware of that.” Derek said irritably, he opened a large wooden chest, searching around for something. He pulled out dark, rusted chains.

“Oh my.” Erica lifted up a bundle of them, “These look comfortable.” She said sarcastically. He quickly took them from her grasp and put them with the rest that he pulled out of the chest.

“You said you were gonna teach us to change whenever we wanted.” Isaac said warily, eyeing the chains.

“There hasn't been time.” He said. And truly he hadn’t had time. I had really been training myself on how to control the chains with what I was calling exposure therapy. Getting really mad and controlling the change before turning so I would be less likely to kill someone during a spout of road rage.

“But if you have to lock us up during the full moon, that means... That means you're alone against the Argents.” Isaac said.

Derek closed the lid of the chest, “They haven't found us.”

“Yet.“ Kid had a point, “So, how about we forget about the Kanima?”

“We. Can't!” He shouted in frustration. He sighed, “There was something about the way Gerard looked at it... He wasn't afraid, at all. I don't know what he knows, or what he's planning. But, I'm sure about one thing-- we have to find it, first.”

“With Scott’s group.” I added, “We are stronger in numbers, that’s how the hunters work and that’s how we should work.”

On the drive home to the Stilinski house, I really had to convince myself not to turn back around and go back to the depot. But Uncle Noah deserved an apology. He had taken me in, given me a fresh start and asked that I be safe in return. Yet here I was, fighting a lizard man with the threat of hunters on my tail, not to mention that I was a movie monster. I parked in the driveway next to his police cruiser and closed my eyes. My emotions were running high and it was hard to keep my eyes from turning red.

“Breathe.” Derek’s voice echoed through my head, “It’s going to be okay.”

I took a deep breath in and out and when I opened my eyes, the red was gone. Now or never.

After closing the front door behind me, I walked quietly into the kitchen where I found him. He was leaning against the counter and sipping a cup of coffee. He looked exhausted. He looked up from his cup a little surprised.

“(Y/N)...”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek before answering, “Uncle Noah...”

“Is...Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I said quickly, “Everything’s....” I let out a deep breath, “Everything’s not fine. I’m so sorry about the things I said.”

He smiled a little, “It’s fine.”

“It-It’s not fine though. You’re just looking out for me, I should appreciate that more. You’ve done more than anyone in my situation could have asked for. You opened up your home, bought me clothes, gave me my own room. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, no.” He said, setting down his coffee mug, “I did have to do that. Besides promising your parents that I would look after you, I did this because you’re like one of my own. You’re like the daughter I never had. I love you.” His eyes held a special twinkle. One that you could only find in people that truly loved you.

Tears prickled at my eyes, my lips trembling, “I love you too.”

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. I gripped onto the material of his shirt and cried. The first time I had really cried since everything happened with my parents. It just felt like my eyes had been built up and after a while, I was crying because of Uncle Noah, because of my parents, because of the torture I went through. I felt like I had no one to vent to like how I could my mom and dad because they weren’t here anymore. It felt nice to cry and feel safe because I knew that Uncle Noah loved me, no matter what. I just wished that if me being a werewolf did come out, he would still love me like his own. Even the thought of it scared me.

“It’s alright.” Uncle Noah stroked my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, “Everything gonna be okay.”

But it’s not okay.

Just a drive to clear my head, that’s all I needed. Stiles was ringing my phone off the hook which really wasn’t helping with my anxiety right now. I looked over to reach for my phone and when I looked back there was someone standing in the middle of the road.

“SHIT!” I screamed, turning my wheel harshly, sending me off the road and into a ditch. I slammed on the brakes, making my body slam forward into the steering wheel. I felt the cracking of my ribs against the hard plastic of the wheel. Pain washed over me in waves as I tried to catch my bearings. I felt dizzy and nauseous on account of the whiplash. I looked back towards the road and the mystery person was gone. It was around that time that my airbag went off, slapping me in the face.

“Nice.” I grunted, opening up my car door. I turned to look out when I froze. The kanima was staring me right in the eyes. But it didn’t make any sense, unless the kanima can turn without moonlight.

“Jackson...” I whispered, “Jackson, if you’re in there I need you to listen to me.” I swallowed, watching the creature tilt his head to the side. It seemed to recognize my voice.

“I can help you, Jackson. I don’t want to hurt you. Just please... Don’t...”

“(Y/N)...” The creature’s voice said. I didn’t even know it was capable of speech. But the voice wasn’t exactly reptilian, as if that was possible. It wasn’t Jackson’s voice either. It was a voice that seemed so familiar, but not.

“Well... That’s not good.” I said, just starting to move to get to the other side of the car when I felt Jackson’s whip-like tail slice across my side.

“God....dammit.” My voice was strained since my entire body became paralyzed within seconds. The creature reached out, pulling me out of the car.

Ah yes, a roadside killing for the kanima, how wonderful. Okay, maybe thoughts like this weren’t the best. This is how I died, alone on the side of the road. I took a deep breath, watching the world go by as Jackson’s scaly hands dragged me down into the ditch further.

A loud roar cut through the air and I felt Jackson drop me, hissing before I heard him take off into the woods. Derek’s face filled my vision and relief washed over me.

“It’s alright, I got you.” He said, picking me in his arms. I saw my car out of the corner of my eye.

“Is she totaled?” I asked.

“No, she’s fine.” He chuckled, “Your transmissions probably shot though.”

“Awesome.” I groaned, closing my eyes.

- By the time I woke up, it was later in the day and I was back home on the couch. With Derek and Uncle Noah... talking. My eyes widened and I sat up, I hissed in pain and laid back down. My head was still killing me.

“Woah, slow down there, kid.” Uncle Noah came to my side, kneeling down beside me on the couch. He smiled and smoothed back my hair from my face, “I thought I told you when you saw a deer in the road, you can’t swerve. Just slow down and if you hit it, you hit it. It’s sad, but there are more deer, there’s only one you.” I glanced up at Derek, who had his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed not at all concerned around Uncle Noah.

Uncle Noah followed my line of sight and smiled, “It’s okay, secret’s out.” My heart almost stopped, why in the hell would Derek tell him I was a werew-

“And it’s okay. I am... okay with you seeing Derek.” I blinked at him.

“What?”

“Is that where you’ve been? At a friend’s house.” He stood up and chuckled, patting Derek on the shoulder, “Derek, here, explained it all to me.”

“I told him that you didn’t want to disappoint him by dating someone who was a murder suspect.” Derek said, smiling a bit at the sheriff.

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine now. Just for the future, you can always tell me anything. No matter what.” He smiled reassuringly. Well... I guess that was one thing out of the way.

“Your car’s in the shop, it’ll be there a day or two. So for now, Derek has volunteered to take you to work.” Uncle Noah smiled, then looked down at his phone, “I gotta take this.” He excused himself from the room and left out the front door. I sat back up again, looking up at Derek’s with my eyebrows raised.

“How did that whole situation go?” Referring to ex-con Derek Hale telling the chief of police that he is dating his pseudo-daughter while she was unconscious in his arms.

Derek shrugged, coming to sit on the edge of the couch, “Well, I was threatened with the gun at first. But after explaining some things... He understood.” He reached out, holding my hand, “He also said he was glad that we were friends again.”

“Does that mean my parents told him that I wasn’t friends with you anymore and not to bring you up?”

“Seems like it.” He sighed, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.

“God.” I breathed out, feeling tension rising in my shoulders, “I understand why they did what they did but... They had a total disregard of the consequences. What were they going to say when I asked what happened to you, would they tell me they told you to go away or would they lie again? A majority of my life was stolen from me and when I try to remember my old lacrosse games where you could have been there... The only face I see is Michael’s. And I think he knew something.”

“We’re gonna figure it out.” He said. I moved closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder.

Derek then explained the events of the dad, the kanima attacked Scott, Stiles, Erica, and Allison in detention and he had agreed to not kill the creature.

“Why did the kanima go after me? Why didn’t he kill me immediately.”

“You don’t have to cover for him anymore, I know it’s Jackson.”

I sighed, “Good, because I didn’t like keeping it from you.”

“Yeah, why did you keep it from me?” He asked, looking down at me.

I gave him a surprised look, “Well, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because you would have killed him? Yeah, he’s a douchebag, but that’s a little much. From what you said, finding out Jackson was adopted at birth and that he literally had to be removed from his mother’s dead body... Maybe that’s what caused the bite to mutate.”

“It’s possible.” The sound of the door slamming shut and the sound of familiar awkward footsteps made us both look up. Stiles halted in the living room, looking me over. I’m sure I looked like a wreck, still kinda felt like it, but the cracked ribs and head injury had healed by now.

Stiles pressed his lips together tightly, moving with purpose. He fell to his knees in front of the couch, wrapping his arms around me. Trying not to cry for the second time today, I hugged him, resting my cheek on top of his head.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. Stiles hold tightened at my words but he didn’t say anything. Derek nodded at me, making his way out of the house. Leaving Stiles and I alone.

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Read part 17 here!

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#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

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ladycatofwinterfell · 3 years

Text

Second of her name

Summary: Arya names her first daughter for her late mother. Something that brings Ned both joy and sorrow.

Wrote an angsty Cat fic a couple of days ago, and now it was Ned’s turn to feel a mix of happiness and agony for about 2000 words. Enjoy!

I'm gonna gift this to @leialannister and @shining-m00nlight for the same reason Bran sends Hodor and Old Nan sweets during the harvest feast in ACoK. No reason but I love them.

The letter laid on his desk, just where he had left it the previous evening. Many times during the night he had considered going to his solar to read it again, perhaps even write his reply. It was more than due. He should have began immediately, but he had been unable to. He had also been unable to sleep.

He picked it up, read it through once more.

Father, I hope you are well. I also hope my brothers are well. I certainly am. Well, I admit I am sore and still in pain, but I am well all the same.

I am pleased to tell you that today my husband and I welcomed our first child. A strong and healthy girl that I have named Catelyn, for my mother. We hope to visit you soon, so that you may meet your first granddaughter.

Take care,

Arya

Ned felt himself smile. Smiling, happiness, was something he had had to relearn. Despite that it had been ten years it was still not something he was quite used to. His children and his grandchildren brought him much joy, that no one could doubt, but every time he saw them he was struck by that there was no one beside him to share the joy with.

Catelyn had dreamed of their family growing, yet she had not been allowed to see Robb’s first child. She had barely seen her last child. Not that the boy had seen much of her either, she had passed mere minutes after his birth. And he had quickly followed. Left behind was Ned together with the five children that remained to him.

Whenever the thought of that crossed his mind it was like the years had never passed, and his grief was still fresh. It was a wound that refused to stop bleeding. One day she had been happy about that soon she would see her babe, the next her cold body had been taken out of her bedchamber so that it could be cleaned for her funeral. It had gone so quickly.

She would have been overjoyed by the letter, he could see it before him. He could almost hear her laughter too.

Our first granddaughter, Ned, can you believe it?

He had trouble doing so. When he was younger he had not thought much about what children he would or would not have. But there he stood with five children and four, soon to be five, grandchildren. Robb had two sons, Sansa had a son and her second child would be born before the year ended. And Arya had a daughter. The small girl who had ran around Winterfell with her wooden sword, her hair messy and her dress dirty, had a daughter of her own. A little Cat.

Catelyn and Arya had clashed with each other often, but there had been more fierce love than anything else there. Arya was so much like Catelyn. Both of them had refused to see it, but it had become very apparent to him as Arya grew older. And he had been told that Catelyn had been more like Arya than Sansa when she was a child.

He sat in his chair, set on writing the letter. It took him long, the words simply didn’t want to come. Every once in a while he stopped, just staring at what he had managed to get down. He had not met his granddaughter, yet his heart was already swelling with love for her. And still it was hard to express that in a short letter. Catelyn had been so good at that, she would have known exactly what to write.

Once he had managed to finish the task he sent for the maester so that it could be sent to Arya. The maester took the letter and once more congratulated him on the little girl.

“I imagine you must be happy with the name Lady Arya chose” he then said.

“It is a beautiful name.”

He did not know what else he could say. Catelyn had been half of his heart, she had held large parts of his life together. He had loved her. And she had been ripped from him. Ripped from their children. Ripped from her life. But he was happy with that Arya had chosen to name her daughter Catelyn.

“I never met the late Lady Catelyn, but I have heard she was a remarkable woman.”

Remarkable was not enough to say what Catelyn had been. There was no word that was enough.

“We all remember her with warmth and love” he said.

Luwin had still been Winterfell’s maester when Catelyn died. He had been the one helping her through the birth, he had been the one who with deep sorrow in his voice declared her dead. Ned could not remember having seen the man in such emotional turmoil before or after that day. All of Winterfell had gone dark that day.

Maester Luwin had passed from sickness the year before. Ned missed him.

When the maester had left him again Ned realized he had not told her about her namesake. And so he found himself crossing the courtyard to go to her sept. Her body, together with her last son’s, had been sent down the White Knife in a burning boat, according to Tully traditions. And she had no statue down in the crypts. At first he had wanted her to have a statue despite that she didn’t have a grave down there, but then he had realized how much she would have hated that. She never liked the crypts, insisted on that it wasn’t her place, that it belonged to the Starks.

He didn’t know if he even would have been able to visit her down there. He had lost his sister to childbirth, and his wife to childbirth. Could he see them stand next to each other, doomed to forever watch over the darkness with eyes of stone?

The sept had been her place. That was where she had found her peace. Ned found no peace there, but he did not know where else to go.

The scent of varying oils and ointments, as well as scented candles, made him nauseous as soon as he had opened the door, but he still entered and closed it behind him. The small sept was empty, as it always was during that time of the day. Despite all the years he had little idea about what to do. He did not know how to pray in a sept, the faith of the seven had so many rules and structures that his faith hadn’t. Though he wasn’t praying to her gods, he was praying to her.

Ned didn’t kneel, he didn’t turn to one of the seven faces. He didn’t even enter the heptagon where the seven statues stood.

You were right in that Arya would have a daughter, he thought.

Once when Arya had asked one of her many questions Catelyn had answered with that she would understand once she had a daughter of her own. Arya had then told her that she would have no daughters, only sons. But she probably hadn’t foreseen that Arya would name that daughter for her.

If the sun had been shining the sept would have been filled by a beautiful light in all the colors of the rainbow, but the day was cloudy and no rays of sunshine came through the stained glass windows. The sun had been out the day the sept was finished and she entered it for the first time. The picture of her smile as she thanked him for it was still vivid before his eyes. He had not loved her then, not yet.

She named her for you.

He remembered how happy she had been the short time she got to hold her babe before she died.

He looks like you, she had whispered.

She had been fading away by then, and she had known it. And so she had made him promise to care for the son and make sure he lived. He had made the same promise that he had made to Lyanna. But he had not been able to keep it, the babe had perished only hours after his mother. After Catelyn left him he had forgotten to give the boy a name. He had died nameless, and Ned had not wanted to give him a name after he was already gone. Catelyn would have hated that, she found names important. And therefore he wanted her to know that Arya had named her daughter.

He did not know what else there was to say. What more there was to tell her. Life went on as usual. The sun had not stopped climbing over the sky, the trees had not stopped growing, and the rivers had not stopped flowing. The world kept going, taking no mind of the loss it had suffered ten years past. He knew that loss though. Every day he woke up and was aware of that loss. It didn’t hurt as much as it had before, but it was still there.

He turned around when the door opened. For a moment he had been so caught up in the mixture of grief and profound happiness that he had forgotten he was not alone in Winterfell.

“Father” Robb said. “I must say I am surprised to find you here.”

He was surprised to find himself in the sept despite that he had been there so many times.

“I can see why” he responded.

His son was quiet as he closed the door.

“You’re here for Mother, are you not?” he then asked.

Ned took a deep breath before nodding.

“She should have been here” he sighed.

Catelyn should have been with him when he received the letter, Catelyn should have been with him during the night, Catelyn should have been with him when he wrote the response, Catelyn should have been in the sept to pray for her granddaughter’s health. And instead she was dead. Instead she was ash at the bottom of a river. Instead he would never again hold her in his arms.

“She should have been here” Robb agreed.

He walked past Ned and stood in the middle of the heptagon. He turned around and bowed his head to all the seven statues.

“I take it you did not pray” he said.

“No. These are not my gods, I don’t how to pray to them.”

“Me neither. Mother was always the one leading us in prayer, and I have forgotten her words, so I have made up my own prayers. The gods accept them too.”

He had made sure of that the children stayed with both their faiths even after Catelyn had died, but he himself had never followed that. He had loved Catelyn, but he held no love for her gods. The godswood was his place, as the sept had been hers. But apparently Robb had brought some of the faith of the old gods into the faith of the seven.

“Have you told your sons about their new cousin?”

Robb smiled then.

“Brynden is too small to understand, but Jonnel is happy. He much looks forward to seeing little Catelyn. I think he needs to be prepared for that he cannot play with her yet.”

“Jonnel is a vigorous boy.”

He was almost worse than Rickon had been. Not that it bothered Ned, he was happy to see laughing children run around in his castle. Jonell was always leading them, wild and curious about most everything.

“He is. He’s also full of questions. And when Alys told him Catelyn was named for his grandmother he wanted to know more about her, I believe she told him to ask you.”

“I shall expect him soon, in other words” Ned chuckled.

“Yes. You need not tell him how she died, but I would appreciate if you could give an answer to what he wants to know.”

“Of course.”

He did not want to talk to anyone of how she had died. The picture of it still reached him in his dreams sometimes, and it was always the same. He walked through an empty Winterfell, reached her chambers and opened the door. She was in her bed, surrounded by her own blood, and she clutched an already dead son to her chest. The moment he stepped into the room she died too.

“Thank you, Father.”

“You need not thank me.”

“Yet I will do it.”

Perhaps it was only because Catelyn was on his mind that Ned believed Robb sounded much like his mother in that moment.

“I’ll leave you to your prayers” Ned said.

He left the sept, breathed deeply of the fresh air outside. It was cool, most likely snow would start falling soon. It was a good day. A new Stark had been born. Little Catelyn wouldn’t be a Stark in name, but she had the Stark blood. And she was named for his wife, Lady Catelyn of Winterfell. Catelyn wouldn’t be forgotten, her memory would live on.

Oh the things he would have given to have her back. Oh the pain of knowing that it was impossible. And oh the happiness of knowing that soon he would hold a granddaughter in his arms.

#ned stark #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned x cat #robb stark #my fic #finished this one faster than i thought i would #hurray #we doing angsty ned now #he misses his wife :(

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oddaodd · 4 years

Text

Hesitation

· Tommy Shelby is hesitant to be happy about his wife being pregnant ·

Warnings: a bit of angst, pregnancy, thoughts of abortion.

The feeling of nausea right after waking up did little to soothe y/n’s inkling. She had been feeling nauseous every morning for a week or so and what at first she decided not to acknowledge became a bit too suspicious for her to keep ignoring. So she followed her instincts and after inquiring with Pol over tea, her suspicions were confirmed. She was pregnant. It didn’t come much of as a surprise because she sort of already knew, but she just had to be sure. So, with news in hand she decided to pay Tommy a visit.

She wasn’t quite sure of how he’d react. They had been friends since they could remember, they had been married for a while and even despite having all the time in the world, they had never talked about having children. He had never said he wanted another child, but he had also never said he didn’t want another child and as for y/n, she had never thought of becoming a mother but now that she was going to be one, she couldn’t be happier. Her mind filled up with ideas of their future baby, how would she name them, what kind of person they would grow up to be and what would they look like. Being caught in her daydream, the ride from Polly’s house to the Shelby Company building went almost unnoticed and she found herself walking into his office without even knocking after greeting everyone she saw rather gaily.

He was sitting behind his desk, with a cigarette hanging from his lips (as per usual), eyes frowning behind his glasses at some seemingly important paperwork. The sound of his office door opening made him roll his eyes as he looked up ready to remind whomever it was to knock before entering only for his whole persona to soften when he saw it was her.

“Although I love your surprise visits, You have picked the wrong time to make one” He said taking off his glasses and shifting his focus from the pile of papers laying on his desk, to her.

She couldn’t contain her excitement as she sat down on the chair opposite of him and said “I assumed so, but I have something very important to tell you”

He smiled at her antics putting out his cigarette “oh yeah?”

“I’m pregnant” she smiled expecting a positive reaction but what came next was everything but.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and his lips parted a little. Something along the lines of dread and re flashed across his face. For a brief moment all words escaped his mind and when they came back all he could say was “Are you sure?”

His question caught her off guard and she didn’t know how to process it, sure it wasn’t positively terrible but his tone told her he wasn’t happy at all. His face returned to his serious nature as he waited for her response, which made her reconsider every thought she daydreamed of in the way there.

“Well, Pol is never wrong” she said hesitantly, Looking down at her hands. All the confidence and joy with which she came into the room having been dissipated and replaced with uncertainty and doubt.

Tommy sighed “Yeah, she never is”

He grabbed a cigarette from his cigarette holder and rubbed it against his lips a few times before lighting it and continuing “it’s getting late, we should head home”

It wasn’t late at all. Tommy always arrived home much later than it was then, but she felt unable to speak and question him so she just got up and exited the building with Tommy following closely behind her, some of the papers he had been previously working on safely tucked in his arm.

A deadly silence befell the ride to Arrow house. Both y/n and Tommy deep in thought. He felt guilty for his reaction, specially when he saw her deflate so at his words, but he was also terrified. In his own eyes, he was a terrible father and as much as he hated the sound of it, having another child meant having another weakness, he was already terrified of loosing Charlie and y/n and now, he would be terrified to loose his unborn child. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n´s thoughts loosely resembled his. She too felt Guilty and terrified and after giving it more thought she felt awfully selfish . She knew they lived a dangerous life and wondered if it was the kind of life she wanted to bring a child into even if the bare idea of being a mother made her insides gleam, she wondered if it would be best to never let it become acquainted with the world.

When they arrived home. She held on to a tiny glimpse of hope that he maybe would have wanted to talk and clear things out, but all he did was lock himself in his office. Deciding not to push things further she made her way upstairs stopping in front of Charlie’s room to see him safely sleeping in his bed. A smile made its way to her face and then she decided she would keep her baby. All those daydreams she had earlier in the day of coming back to her as she murmured good night to Charlie. She silently closed the door and walked to her and Tommy’s room. She couldn’t help it but cry herself to sleep that night overwhelmed by the events of the day.

She woke up alone, Tommy had already left and with a feeling of determination and sadness she faced the day. Pol payed her a visit and y/n told her everything. She advised her on what to do and what not to do as a pregnant woman and before leaving she told y/n that Tom would eventually come to his senses. Y/n felt much better after taking to Pol, she always did, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t picture Tommy coming around.

5 months had passed and her belly had started to grow and with it, the love for her unborn child. Even Charlie was exited about having a sibling, but Tommy was still reluctant. In fact, she seldom saw him. He always came home when she was already sleep and he always left before she woke up. She started to miss him as dreadful thoughts clouded her mind. Would he leave her? Had his love for her ceased? The prospect seemed unlikely, but unlikely as it was, it started to keep her awake some nights.

One of those nights she was laying in bed, trying to fight her thoughts into sleep as he slowly and silently opened the door, concentration evident on his face trying not to make a sound, hoping to find her asleep only to be surprised to find her staring at him.

“Thought you’d be asleep” he said, the concentration in his face disappearing as he steeped inside the room much less carefully and got rid of his clothes not looking at her anymore.

“My mind is plagued by thoughts” she said as she looked at him as he undressed. Not really paying much attention to her actions or the words that had just left her mouth, thinking that she hadn’t actually said them.

He turned to look at her and then she realized she had actually said them. She could tell he hadn’t expected her to speak at all, hell, she didn’t expect herself to speak at all. He just nodded and hummed before getting into his side of the bed looking at the ceiling.

She kept looking at him not caring if he noticed, it had been so long since he had laid next to her and she felt a bit nostalgic to see him there, almost as a vision of days long gone . He did notice and titled his head ever so slightly to look at her. She hesitatingly scooted closer to him laying her head on his chest refusing to look at him in the eye. When he didn’t attempt to push her away, she felt instantly relieved, as if that was a reminder that he still cared for her. He sighed, in relief as well. Silence reigned for a bit longer until y/n´s words broke it.

“I’ve missed you” she silently confessed, tracing some of the freckles scattered across his chest. How she adored his freckles.

“I know,” he said bringing his hand to caress her cheek making her look up at his eyes. “I’ve missed you too”

Her eyes welled up a little as he continued “I’m sorry. For everything”

She just stared at his eyes unable to speak, she felt like she needed to find the perfect words to describe everything she was feeling and she felt those words didn’t even exist. Her silence prompted Tommy to continue speaking

“I’m not a good man nor a good father. Charlie got kidnapped once, Grace died because of me. I’m terrified and I don’t want anything happening to you or to this baby or to Charlie ever again”

She sighed with a mixture of bittersweet emotion. “ You can’t control everything” she said bringing her hand to his face “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, then maybe you would realize you are a good man” she said with a sad smile. “I love you, Charlie does too and im sure this child will do just as much” .

She took his hand in hers and placed it on her slightly swollen belly, the feeling of it caused a small smile to appear across Tommys face. Y/n smiled at the sight, she had missed his smile more than she knew she had. They both stared into each others eyes “Promise me you’ll be here still when I wake up” she pleaded.

He intently looked into her eyes before kissing her with months worth of pent up emotion. “I promise”

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby one shot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders angst

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hercleverboy · 4 years

Text

time

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ spencer learns the truth about why the reader left the team so suddenly during his post-prison showdown with cat adams.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ cancer, main character death, crying, pleading someone not to die, please do not read if these are triggering for you.

word count ↠ 3.6k

“Death is peaceful, easy. Life is harder.”

Breast cancer had a history in Y/N’s family. Her grandmother had died from it, and it seemingly skipped her mothers generation. Y/N was not so lucky.

When the doctor told her, she stared blankly she’d at the wall. He was talking at her but she only seemed to pick up on parts of what he was saying.

“Breast cancer”, “stage 4”, “has unfortunately spread to other parts of your body,” “eight months if you’re lucky”

Lucky?

If she’s lucky?

The doctor sent her on her way after discussing some treatments with her. He told her what the side effects of those treatments were going to be, and she’d shaken her head. The doctor looked shocked, but Y/N had just given him a small smile. If she was going to die, she was going to spend her time doing everything she wanted to, not being poked and prodded and given treatments that were unlikely to work anyway.

Initially, she didn’t tell anyone at the BAU. She certainly didn’t tell Spencer, who she’d been crushing on for years at that point. They were best friends, they had been since she started all those years ago, and they were always there for one another. She was always too nervous to tell him how she felt, but it’s funny how finding out your days are numbered will encourage you to do things you never thought you’d have the courage to. So one night at the end of the work day, when the bullpen was empty apart from her and the resident genius, she threw caution to the wind and walked right up to his desk.

He grinned at her as she approached. “Hey, Y/N. Did you want to grab something to eat before you head home? There’s that new Chinese place a few streets over-“ He was interrupted by her saying three words he never thought she’d say to him.

“I love you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“You what?” He manages to get out, his mind was spinning.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry, you just have to know.”

“Y/N I don’t know what to say I-“ He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right ones. Truthfully, he was in love with her too. Though his own insecurities and stupid thoughts always got in the way. Y/N took his lack of response to mean that he didn’t feel the same, and so she took a deep breath and smiled at him reassuringly. Before he could tell her that he was very sure he loved her too, she was gone, the bullpen’s doors closing gently behind her.

Y/N felt the weight lifted off her shoulders. Despite her thinking Spencer didn’t return her affection, she still felt the sweetest relief imaginable. Because fuck it, if she was going to die she’d be damned If she did so without telling Spencer Reid how much she loved him.

And now he knew.

It brought her a sense of peace.

She told Hotch, but that’s only because she had to give him a real reason as to why she was leaving, after he heard the lie she’d fed the team.

“I’ve been offered a job in the orginised crime unit, I just can’t turn it down.”

“Y/N, can I speak with you?” He’d asked after she’d announced to the team that she was leaving. He led her to his office, closing the door behind her. “I’ll get straight to the point. There is no new job with the orginised crime unit, I would’ve been notified if you’d been offered a new position. What’s going on?”

She couldn’t lie to him, she knew that much. So she took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m terminally ill, sir. I haven’t got long left. I would like to live what is left of my life.” Hotch was understating. He didn’t show it, always very good at masking his emotions, but his heart was broken. He’d even hugged her, telling her what a pleasure it was to work alongside her, how the world would suffer greatly from the loss of her kind heart and unmatched intelligence.

On her last shift, which was a paperwork day thankfully, the team got together and threw her a little in-office going away party. Y/N felt guilty about not telling her friends, her family, the real reason she was leaving but they shouldn’t have to bear that burden, they shouldn’t have to carry around the guilt. And she didn’t want their pity or worry either. Hotch had been surprised at how soon she’d wanted to leave the BAU after telling him of her condition, but she told him it was because she wanted the team to remember her how she was. Strong and confident. She didn’t want to them to see her so weak and vulnerable, how she knew this disease would reduce her to.

JJ found out that day, unintentionally. After laughing and eating some cake with the team, Y/N felt incredibly nauseous (she found she was struggling to keep food down these days), so she excused herself to the bathroom, and was violently sick in the toilet of one of the stalls. JJ had followed her in, noticing how she’d barely touched her cake earlier and that she looked awfully pale as well.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” She asked, opening up the stall door behind Y/N, who was panting over the toilet bowl.

“I’m fine, JJ. I promise.” She smiled weakly but JJ wasn’t buying it. The two women had become best friends over their time in the bureau, almost like sisters.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” JJ joked as Y/N stood up on shaky legs.

“No, I’m not pregnant Jayje.” Y/N couldn’t look her best friend in the eye, tears filling her eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry. It’ll be okay, what’s wrong?” JJ’s motherly tone made Y/N wanted to laugh but she couldn’t force one out if she tried. Y/N’s lack of response frightened JJ.

“Y/N, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong, please.” She begged.

“I’m sick, JJ.”

It didn’t take the blonde long to figure out that she didn’t mean a common cold. Tears filled JJ’s eyes.

“I haven’t got a lot of time Jayje.” Y/N cried, and JJ began to sob, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.

“Well there are treatments right? Chemotherapy or something? Something has to work.” JJ was begging, praying that there was something. Her heart shattered all over again when Y/N shook her head.

“I won’t spend the rest of my time hooked up to countless machines receiving treatments that may or may not work. I don’t want to fight this. I’m already so tired, I just want to go peacefully when the time comes. Please?”

JJ just cried harder. She understood Y/N had already made peace with her fate.

After calming down slightly, Y/N pulled back, holding JJ by her shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone. Only you and Hotch know. I won’t burden anyone else with this, okay?”

“Y/N, this isn’t a burden. You’re sick. The team deserve to know, they deserve their turn to say goodbye.” JJ tried to convince her.

“Please. You can’t say a thing. I know they deserve that but god I can’t have them all pitying me. Garcia will buy me gift baskets to compensate, Derek won’t know what to do with himself so he’ll make jokes, and Spencer, god Spence will go into overdrive trying to fix me. I just want to live out my days peacefully, please let me have that Jayje.” She begged, and the blonde nodded.

“I understand, Y/N. But Spence.. he’s one of your best friends. He has been for years now. I know you told him you love him and he didn’t say it back but.. this- this will kill him.” She whispered the last part and Y/N looked away as she fought to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.

“I know. And I’m sorry if it’s selfish but I’m dying, I think I’m allowed to be a little selfish.” Her attempt at a joke was met with a stern look from JJ.

5 months after Y/N left the BAU, Spencer ended up in trouble in Mexico, and before anyone could do anything he was awaiting trial in a prison cell. He had lot of time to think over the three months spent behind bars, staring at blank walls, fighting to survive long enough for the team to prove his innocence. Every night he slept in his bed he thought of Y/N.

How much he missed his best friend.

How much he loved her still.

He realised how stupid he’d been to let her get away. He regretted not going after her that day in the bullpen and promising her he felt the same way she did. He promised himself the moment he got out he would tell her how he felt, and they could make up for the time they’d lost. He yearned to see her, and If prison taught him anything, it was that time was precious. And he wanted to spend all of his time with her.

When JJ turned up to the prison one day, he’d never felt a relief quite like it.

“We’re taking you home.”

He was relieved that now he could focus on finding his mother, and once that was done he could prioritise Y/N. He would tell her how he felt, how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, no time to waste. He could tell her the words he’d thought a thousands times of the last three months.

I love you. So much.

He just had to win one final time, play Cat Adams stupid game and then everything he’d ever wanted would be his. He could live the life he’d dreamed of when he was in prison, Y/N by his side.

“Even if you are pregnant the baby’s not mine.” Spencer was mortified that she was really trying to persuade him that her baby was his, let alone that she was even pregnant in the first place.

Cat clicked her tongue. “Except for the part where it is.”

“That’s preposterous, you’ve been in prison. And besides we’ve never-“

“So have you, and I know we never...” She trailed off, that smirk on her lips. “Ask me how I did it.”

Spencer was really losing his patience. He didn’t care for, nor did he want to play Cat’s little game anymore.

“Come on, ask me.”

“How did you do it?”

“I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time.” Cat smiled at the look of confusion on Spencer’s face. “I told her to pretend to be Maeve.”

That hurt Spencer more than it should’ve. 4 years since the tragic death of his girlfriend, and the wounds were still fresh as anything. Of course Cat knew about Maeve.

“But perhaps it would’ve worked better if I’d told her to pretend to be Y/N, the best friend that you’ve always loved but never told her. It’s a shame that you might never get the chance now.” Cat snarled.

“What do you mean I’ll never get the chance?”

“Oh my god. You don’t know, do you?” Cat teased, and Spencer gripped the edge of the table so harshly his knuckles turned white.

“Know what, Cat?”

“Dear little Y/N has terminal cancer. She was given around eight months to live, from what I know. That would mean-“ She theatrically looked at Spencer’s watch that sat on her wrist. “Any day now, if my timings right.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Cat’s head cocked to the side. This wasn’t part of her original plan, but any opportunity to mess with Spencer even more was not to be missed.

“Yes you are, that what you do.” Spencer seethed, the words like venom on his tongue.

“I’m not. Just ask blondie in there.” Cat pointed to the double sided mirror. “She’ll tell you. It is her that Y/N chose to confide in, after all.” She teased.

Spencer shot up from table with loud bang and stalked out the room, slamming open the door to where a gobsmacked JJ stood.

“Is it true?” Spencer asked, his tone cold and unforgiving.

“Spence..”

“JJ! I asked if it was true?” He shouted, slamming his hand on the wall next to them. JJ flinched, and for the first time in their friendship JJ was afraid of the man in front of her.

“Yes.” Her voice was small.

He whipped out his phone, calling Garcia. “Garcia I need you to look up Y/N Y/L/N’s medical records.”

“Our Y/N Y/L/N? Why?” The chipper woman replied, confused.

“Just please, Garcia!” Spencer shouted desperately.

“Okay okay, I’m looking and everything seems fine- oh wait- what’s this?” Garcia murmured to herself as she clicked through the files, her eyes widening and tears forming in them as she gasped. “She’s sick? W-why didn’t she tell us? Oh my god.”

“She’s alive, right? Oh god please tell me she’s alive?” Spencer begged.

“She’s alive, but she was admitted to the hospital 2 weeks ago after she collapsed. They’re keeping her in the hospital, just trying to make her comfortable- oh god I can’t read anymore.” Garcia was sobbing down the line and JJ had a hand clasped over her mouth to keep her own sobs at bay.

Spencer sobbed too, for the first time since he went to prison. Everything seemed to hit him at once.

After a moment, JJ’s trembling voice reached his ears. “Spence, I know this is a lot to take in but if you want to find out where your mother is you’ve got to carry on.”

He’s knew she was right, but he just glared at her coldly. “How long have you known?”

“Since she left.” JJ cried. “I’m so sorry, but she begged me not to tell you, or anyone else for that matter. How could I deny her that?”

Spencer understood it wasn’t JJ’s fault but he was still so angry. The anger burned within him like a wildfire and he didn’t posses the restraint to put it out. “There was no new job in the organised crime unit, was there?”

“No.”

“Fuck!” Spencer shouted, pushing some files that sat on the table onto the floor with a loud crash as he cried.

“Spence-“ JJ attempted to comfort him but he was downright inconsolable.

“You know she told me she loved me. Before she left.” Spencer spoke quickly and fiercely, though the tears trembling down his cheeks told a different story. He finally looked JJ in the eye, and she nodded. “I didn’t get to tell her I love her but I do JJ, god I do and now I’m gonna lose her.” He let out a heartbroken cry and JJ felt so guilty.

“Spence you have to go back in there and win her little game. Save your mother, and then you can worry about Y/N. Okay?” JJ tried, and this time it seemed the words sunk into him.

Spencer hated that she was right. So with a sniffle, he wiped the tears from his eyes with the sleeves of his blazer, before taking a deep breath and returning to the room with Cat, one even more determined to win.

After winning the battle against Cat, Spencer escorted his mother back to the sanitarium. As soon as she was safe and settled, Spencer was immediately on the phone with Garcia.

“Garcia, which hospital is Y/N at?”

Once he got the address he was there in minutes.

He sped up to the front desk, panting as he spoke. “Hi, I’m here to see Y/N Y/L/N.”

The receptionist nodded, typing away on her computer. Spencer stood as he waited to hear what room she was in, tapping his foot impatiently on the white floorboards. A doctor who had been standing near the desk stepped towards him, and he looked him as she approached. “Sorry sir, Did you say you’re here to see Y/N Y/L/N?”

Spencer turned to her, his voice desperate. He prayed he wasn’t too late. “Yes, yes.”

The doctor looked at him with a small smile. She looked him up and down, coming to a conclusion. “Are you Dr Spencer Reid?”

Spencer gulped, unsure what to say. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Y/N- She talks about you, when she’s in between consciousness. She showed me pictures a few weeks ago, told me all about the man she loved who she was so sure didn’t love her back. She’ll be so glad to see you.”

He wanted to smile at the information but he felt so sick that he couldn’t force his lips up into even a grimace. “How is she?” He dared to ask.

“I’m sorry, Dr Reid. Y/N is incredibly ill. We’re just trying to make her as comfortable as we can, I’m afraid it won’t be long now. Follow me, she could use your company.”

His heart broke but he followed her, attempting not to breakdown in a fit of cries.

When he saw her his heart broke even more. Her cheeks were sullen and she was thinner than he remembered. But she was still so beautiful to him. He thanked the doctor and pulled up a chair next to her, taking one of her frail hands in his. She turned to look at him, flashing a weak smile.

“Spencer? Are you really here?”

“Yes sweetheart. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He choked out, attempting to smile for her sake.

She nodded, and he brought his lips to her hand to place a gentle kiss on it.

“I’ve missed you.” She whimpered out. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve missed you too.” He felt like breaking down but he had to be strong for her. “Y/N, I have to tell you, if this is the last chance I get I- I love you. I always have done. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all those months ago. I’m here now, but I’m too late.” He sobbed.

“Hey, hey. . It’s okay. It was a privilege to love you, Spencer Reid.” She smiled, moving her frail hands up to cup his face. It made him sob harder.

“I wish we had more time.” He cried, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I know, me too.”

They talked for the whole evening, and then, when she got too exhausted to continue conversation, he pulled out her favourite book from his satchel. He read to her, listening to the sound of her shallow breathing.

The team visited, all too shocked to say much, but they came to say goodbye. Y/N was barely conscious enough to realise what was going on, but she still managed to give the team a weak smile and a whispered, “Love you guys.”

JJ and Garcia had to leave the room so they wouldn’t collapse in tears front of her.

When the heart monitor went flat in the early hours of the next morning, that loud blaring sound filling Spencer’s ears, his sobs started again as he rested his forehead on her still chest.

“Please. Please don’t go. Come back, I love you.” Spencer begged, his shoulders moving with the sobs that wracked through him. He’d never felt so utterly heartbroken. Not when he watched his father leave, not when he saw his mother’s condition worsen, not even when Maeve was killed right in front of him. None of that compared to how his chest burned and his throat was sore from the sobs that ripped from him, and the tears that relentlessly cascaded down his cheeks.

“Please, baby. Look at me. Let me see them gorgeous eyes, yeah?” He begged, he prayed to every god there ever was that she’d look at him again with those beautiful orbs that he’d fallen so In love with. Those stunning eyes that would never open again.

The doctor, with tears in her own eyes at the scene before her, moved to turn the heart monitor off, the obnoxious withstanding beep cutting off. It made Spencer’s head ache.

Spencer clutched Y/N’s hand desperately to his chest, his head resting on her chest as he cried. He squeezed her hand, and some foolish part of him almost believed that if he squeezed hard enough he’d wake up from whatever nightmare this was. He twisted his eyelids shut and dreamed. He dreamed of waking up next to Y/N, in a bed that they shared, wedding bands on their fingers and their children’s footsteps and laughter filling their home. He dreamed of a life with her, of raising a family with her. He dreamed of the life she deserved.

He wanted to scream. How was this fair? How were murderers and serial rapists walking around with no consequence but people like Y/N had their lives ripped from them?

It was unjust.

But the world was cruel, Spencer knew. It was cruel and it was cold and it was unforgiving.

He raised his head from her chest, using the hand that wasn’t holding hers to place his hand on her cheek. He pushed forward, placing a gentle kiss on her cold and lifeless lips.

it was a goodbye. one that needn’t be spoken.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll honour you for the rest of my life, I promise.”

Spencer Reid never recovered from losing Y/N Y/L/N.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #mgg x reader #mgg #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds x reader

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