#I am still exhausted and my eyes are bloodshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nyrandrea · 1 year

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Restless

Summary: As your sleepless nights start to catch up with you, you turn to a certain vampire who might just be able to help.

Also available to read here on A03!

Word Count - 2.7k

Enjoy!

xxx

Sleep had always been something of an illusion to you.

Each night, as the world succumbed to slumber, you lay in your bedroll, with eyes wide open, gazing at the twinkling stars of the endless night sky. It was as if the world had pressed pause, leaving you to confront the shadows of your own thoughts. Your insomnia was a relentless adversary, a cruel warden that held you captive in the prison of wakefulness.

The nights stretched on endlessly, and as the hours ticked by, your exhaustion grew more profound.

Your mind raced with thoughts, a relentless carousel of worries, hopes, and regrets. You would toss and turn, your body tangled in the sheets, seeking elusive comfort. Come morning, the birds seemed to mock you, a constant reminder of the passage of time that slipped away while you lay wide awake.

By the time everyone else was up and refreshed from a good night’s sleep, you were still lying flat on your back, your bloodshot eyes stinging as you stared up at the pale morning sky.

“Darling, it’s time to get up,” Astarion said, standing above you with hands on hips, his expression somewhat bemused. “Honestly, you’re so lazy, just like Gale.”

He muttered that last part, glaring towards the wizard’s tent as a rumbling snore emanated from it and echoed throughout the camp. The vampire suddenly smirked, and you rolled your head to follow his gaze, only to see Karlach sneaking towards the tent with her hands out, ready to pounce.

The snoring was cut short with a high-pitched scream, followed by a roar of laughter, and a lot of cursing on Gale’s part.

“Good, at least that’s one of you up,” Astarion said, turning back towards you. “Now, are you going to follow suit? Or am I going to have to stoop to Karlach’s tactics? Brash as they are.”

“Hey! My tactics are quite refined, thank you very much,” Karlach rebuked, stabbing a thumb in Gale’s direction, the poor man stumbling to find his cloak. “Got him up, didn’t I?”

“That you did, darling.”

“I’m up,” you muttered hoarsely, wincing as you slowly pushed yourself up off the ground, your body feeling about a hundred years old. “I’m up.”

“Oh dear,” Astarion grimaced. “Looks like someone didn’t get their beauty sleep last night, hm?”

His tone was light but there was an almost... concerned note to it, as if he was prodding. You felt a pang in your chest; he only spoke the truth; your eyes, once bright and expressive, now bore the heavy bags and dark circles of sleep deprivation. Your skin had dulled and paled considerably over the past few weeks, and your hair was dishevelled and unkempt.

You almost certainly looked as bad as you felt.

Part of you wanted to blame the group: Astarion for nearly sucking you dry of your blood, Karlach for being so damn loud all the time, Gale for making demands of you every ten minutes, Lae’zel for very nearly causing fights everywhere she went with her brashness, Shadowheart for her condescending demeanour and Wyll for craving validation from you every time you had a chat with him. The only sane person here seemed to be Halsin, and even he was starting to grate on your nerves for just looking so damn well-rested and perky.

The other part of you wanted to cry, to apologise for being such a failure and run away into the woods to never be seen or heard from again and just succumb to whatever fate the mind-flayer parasite had in store for you.

Instead, you forced a smile, and lied.

“Just had a nightmare, is all.”

“Hm,” Astarion hummed, a simmering concern etched into the lines of his face. In that moment you felt a soft push in your mind, and the tadpole behind your eye squirmed as if responding to something. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions, a palpable tension that seemed to hang between you both.

It was only when you winced that the vampire averted his gaze, and the unseen force retreated from your mind.

“Terribly sorry,” Astarion said as you rubbed your head. “It would seem that my worm wanted to talk with yours; perhaps it was... concerned. Ooh, do you think that they’re best friends?”

“I doubt it,” you muttered, a little annoyed at his giddiness. “Maybe tell yours to mind its own business next time.”

“Of course, apologies again,” he said with that smooth voice and puppy-dog eyes of his, it was enough to make your irritation melt away. “But should a nightmare ever arise in that darling head of yours again, just know that you can seek me out.”

You blinked, a little surprised at the open invitation. You couldn’t quite tell if it was genuine; it was always hard to tell with him. The only times you had ever been intimate was whenever he sought you out for a bit of casual fun. He seemed confused as to why you never wanted to initiate, but you tried to explain that while you enjoyed your time together, you never wanted to invade his privacy as you respected that camp time was everyone’s chance for a bit of peace and were entitled to such.

This only seemed to confuse him further.

Still, this had to be a big step for him, to ask you to his tent -his sanctuary- and you didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“I-I will,” you stutter. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, my dear,” Astarion smiled. “Now, shall we see what chaos today brings for us? It’s been far too long since we’ve had to kill anyone.”

You bumped his shoulder playfully. “We killed that group of bandits only yesterday.”

He returned the gesture with a sly smirk. “Exactly.”

During the day, you continued your journey with a fragile facade of normalcy, sipping on coffee like it was the elixir of life, desperately trying to stay awake. Your interactions with others were tinged with a weary detachment, as if you were viewing the world through a foggy pane of glass.

Emotions played hide-and-seek within your very soul. Frustration lurked just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation. An innocent quip or question would trigger an unexpected wellspring of tears, followed by nervous laughter, leaving everyone in the group perplexed. You merely brushed it off as the tadpole messing with your head, but even that raised a few eyebrows as nobody else was acting up—it was a good thing you were persuasive.

You tried to avoid battles wherever and whenever you could, opting to take the longer roads or attempting to sweet-talk your way out of a sticky situation. However, some fights were unavoidable, and this was when your sleep deprivation was really put on show for everyone to see; your movements were sluggish, enemies were able to get more hits on you and you had to be helped back up to your feet on more than one occasion.

The others insisted on setting up camp a little earlier than usual so you could rest and, despite your trying to tell them that you were fine and wanted to keep going because these tadpoles weren’t going to remove themselves anytime soon, they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

So, here you were again, on your back, staring up at the stars. Another night of having an existential crisis while everyone else slumbered on peacefully. Rinse and repeat.

You had tried everything to conquer your insomnia. Experimented with herbal teas, soothing music, you had even consulted a sleep specialist back in Baldur’s Gate who prescribed a cocktail of medications. But the battle persisted, night after night.

Sitting up and rubbing your dry, stinging eyes, you decided to try something else.

As you crept through the camp, you were careful not to wake anyone else up as you approached Astarion’s tent, tentatively peeking in through the flap before reprimanding yourself; even though he had invited you, boundaries were important, you couldn’t just go barging in. So, you gently knocked on one of the wooden beams that supported the tent.

“Astarion...?” You softly whispered, waiting for a response.

Only silence followed.

You knocked again, wincing slightly at the louder noise you made. For a moment you thought about abandoning this whole silly idea and going back to staring into space for the next eight hours, but desperation made you persistent.

Mercifully, you heard a faint shuffle come from inside the tent.

“Come in,” Astarion’s husky, muffled voice answered.

Nervously, you slipped inside, and a wave of warmth immediately washed over your face as you were greeted with the sight of a bare-chested Astarion sitting cross-legged on his bedroll. You were grateful he at least had pants on, otherwise you would have been out of there like a shot.

A mischievous smile spread across his face as he watched you squirm uncomfortably. “Whatever is the matter, darling?” His lips formed a perfect pout. “Come to ask me for a little cuddle to chase the bad dreams away?”

Your nostrils flared as you glowered down at him while he smirked smugly back up, because of course he would tease you about something like this. You should have known that he wasn’t going to take you seriously.

“Forget it,” you said, making a sharp turn to re-open the tent flap. “I-I never should have come here, I’ll just... leave you be.”

You missed the flash of panic on his face as he quickly got to his knees to reach out and grab your wrist before you could make it out.

“Wait!” He said, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry, come back in, please?”

You slowly turned your head.

“I promise not to tease you.”

Begrudgingly, you allowed him to take your hand and escort you back inside, guiding you to sit down beside him on the floor.

“You’re having trouble sleeping again, I presume?”

Nodding your head, you squeezed the bridge of your nose and sighed, trying to swallow down the overwhelming urge to break down in front of him and cry in pure frustration.

“I... I’ve been struggling with insomnia for a while now.”

Astarion scoffed. “Well now, that’s a revelation.”

You had half a mind to slap him.

“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “No teasing, of course, but come on darling, it was pretty obvious from the start.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your gaze cast downward, wondering why you even came here in the first place if he was just going to insult you.

“You’re still beautiful,” he said, softly caressing your jaw to angle your face towards him. “Very beautiful indeed.”

Your heart thumped wildly as the tip of your nose brushed his, and you would have crumpled into his well-tuned act of seduction if it were not for one burning question suddenly on your mind.

“How do you do it?"

“I- do what?”

“Elves don’t sleep, right?” You said, blinking curiously. “How do you... not sleep?”

“We uh... meditate, darling. Wait, how do you not know this?” he asked, pulling back with his eyebrow raised. “You must have seen me doing it at some stage or another.”

“...I always just thought you pretended to sleep,” you hummed in thought. “Now that I think about it, the way you lay down was always kind of strange looking.”

He snorted a laugh at your brutal honesty, and feeling a jab of guilt, you tried to back-track on your word vomit.

“Sorry! Um… no offence?”

"None taken, darling,” he said, waving a nonchalant hand. “I can see why my eloquent poses would look strange to you, but for elves, meditation is a common practice. Helps us to… calm down; be in the moment, as it were.”

A comfortable silence fell between you.

“Could you show me?”

Astarion gave you a questionable look. “You want me to show you how to meditate?”

You nod vigorously and cross your legs with your arms resting on your knees to show that you’re serious. It takes you a moment to figure out which fingers were supposed to touch together but you get there eventually.

With a bemused smile, the vampire shrugs. “Alright, I've had stranger requests.”

You wanted to question that but put a pin in it for another time.

"Are you ready?" Astarion asked. You nod, your heart fluttering with both anticipation and trust. “Now, clear your head.”

You give him a dry look.

He rolls his eyes back. “Yes, admittedly a little hard, what with the little residents living up there but just... trust me, alright? Close your eyes.”

You complied, and Astarion began to guide you, his words soft and rhythmic, like a gentle lullaby. "Breathe in deeply," he said, his own breath aligning with yours. "Feel the air fill your lungs, expanding your chest, and exhale slowly, try to let go of any tension."

You followed his instructions, your breath matching his like a perfectly choreographed dance. With each inhale and exhale, you felt a growing sense of calm washing over.

"Thoughts may arise, like passing clouds," Astarion murmured. "Acknowledge them but let them drift away. Return your focus to your breath.”

You found yourself navigating the currents of your thoughts with newfound ease, like a sailor guiding a boat through calm waters. The more you let go, the more profound your sense of inner stillness grew. You felt the weight of your worries begin to dissolve. The burdens of your leadership, of the mind-flayer tadpoles and the problems that came with it seemed to retreat into the distance, leaving you with a newfound clarity.

"Good," Astarion whispered. "Now, focus on your body. Notice any tension, any discomfort. Let it go with each breath. Feel your body becoming lighter, more at ease."

Minutes passed like hours, and the tent seemed to fill with an ethereal stillness. You and Astarion remained connected through your breath, it was as if time itself had become irrelevant, and you were both suspended in a moment of pure existence.

You could feel the tension in your shoulders and neck melting away. It was as if the cares of the world were simply slipping through your fingers.

Slipping...

“...Darling? Are you-? Oh.”

Astarion’s eyes widen, and he winces a little when your head falls into his shoulder. He catches you gently by the arms, so you don’t slip and go face-first into his lap; it was a delicious thought but for another time, when you were conscious and ready.

But right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with you. He certainly knows he can’t hold you like this all night; it would be uncomfortable for both of you. His eyebrows crease as he frowns while he tries to slowly lower you to the ground.

To absolutely no avail; unconsciously you end up pulling him in closer.

“Oh, for Gods's sake,” the vampire huffs incredulously. “What am I, some sort of glorified teddy bear?”

Half-asleep and still nestled into Astarion’s chest, you mumble something incoherent in response, your breath warm against his skin. You snuggle even closer, your head burrowing into the crook of his neck.

For a moment, Astarion felt a flicker of irritation, his desire for a good night's rest warring with his affection for you. He yearned to stretch out, to find the perfect position that would allow him the bliss of undisturbed meditation. But as he looked down at the peaceful expression on your face, all traces of weariness and anxiety erased, he just couldn't bring himself to disturb you.

Reluctantly, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer still. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of your breath, the slow, rhythmic cadence of sleep. The warmth of your body against his own gradually seeped through the cracks in his defences, and his irritation gave way to an overwhelming tenderness.

In that moment, he realised that the inconvenience of being your living pillow was a small price to pay for the privilege of holding you close, of being the one you sought comfort in. As you drifted further into slumber, Astarion closed his eyes and surrendered to the serenity of the night, the gentle weight of your devotion for each other enveloping you both, anchoring him in the moment and reminding him of the beauty in life's simple, sweet sacrifices.

xxx

Yyyyyeah I know this one has the same beats as 'Everything's Fine' but what can I say? I'm a sucker for begrudgingly soft Astarion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Let me know what y'all think!

Links to my other Astarion works

'Everything's Fine'

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #my writing #tw insomnia #fanfiction #baldurs gate 3

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angel2el · 3 months

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Blackened Haze (Elvis Presley) - PART ONE -- "Sunset"

My gosh I'm so excited to share this with you all. It's a story that explores a possibility where a reader, Elvis's longtime girlfriend, is there to help him through his mother's death and work towards happiness and peace. This is a bit sad at first. I will say I felt a little solemn at times. But I am proud of it and I love it and I hope you all do too. I love you all so, so much. I do not have a taglist but if you would like me to tag you at the next parts I will. The colonel is mentioned but is not a villain due to the fact that at this point, he and Elvis had good relations.

“I came as soon as I heard you were here,” you say softly as you enter the hospital’s private waiting room Elvis is in. He’s sitting on the blue couch with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands when you first walk in, but he lifts his head up when he hears your voice.

“Hi, honey,” he says, voice raspy and weak, waving his hand for you to come over. You approach him and set your flowers on the table in front of you two before sitting down.

“How is she?” You ask. His mother was admitted three days ago, and he’d arrived around twelve hours ago. It’s 4 in the morning now and Elvis doesn’t look like he’s slept a wink yet. You put a hand on his forehead to brush his hair out of his face. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but he’s pale and his eyes are bloodshot from a lack of sleep.

“They haven’t told me nothing,” he says. His voice is still low and glum. You move your hand to his cheek.

“Have you slept at all?” You ask, moving your thumb up and down his cheek.

“Not yet,” he says.

“Lay your head on my lap and try to sleep some,” you say, scooting away so he has enough room to lay down.

“I..I can’t. What if somethin’ happens to her while I’m asleep?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ll wake you up if anything happens. I promise,” you say. “You need to get some sleep or you’ll barely be able to make it through tomorrow.” You put your hand on his waist and gently start to ease him down. He hesitates at first, but eventually complies, resting his head on your lap. “Just relax,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. You feel his body heave with a shaky sigh. You can feel his nerves, how hot he is from the stress, the cold sweat on the back of his neck. He can’t even be with his mother right now because Vernon is with her. That must be the hardest part. She’s everything to him.

You can’t imagine what life would be like without her. You both know she’s very, very sick. But your heart won’t let you think about losing the sweet, loving woman who welcomed you with open arms into their home when you and Elvis first started dating, and again welcomed you into Graceland when you moved in. The woman who always cared for you, and more importantly, for Elvis. She’s his best friend. The person he’s closest to in the whole world. He wouldn’t be able to go on without her.

You calm yourself out of the thoughts of losing her by closing your eyes and rubbing his shoulder up and down, trying to think more positive thoughts. Gladys is going to live. She’s going to get better. You blink slowly, tiredly as you keep your touch on him, feeling him start to fall asleep. He’s exhausted. He may have been up for over 24 hours at this point, considering he’d been in the car most of yesterday, stressing about Gladys. Your chest aches with sympathy at the thought of his suffering over the last few days. Luckily, he’d been granted leave from army training to see his mother. But that didn’t do much to ease the fear and pain. You look at his hands, which were shaking slightly. His nails are bitten down well below his nailbeds, a nervous habit he’d developed as a teen. You hear him sigh softly. He was asleep now. Thank goodness. You lean your own head back and close your eyes, letting your breathing slow. You hadn’t been up nearly as long as Elvis, but you’d barely been able to sleep these past few days knowing Gladys was suffering and Elvis was too. A call had come at 3am this morning telling you Elvis was at the hospital now and had been for eleven hours, so you drove as fast as you could to the hospital to meet him. Exhaustion and fear wracked your mind, just like him. For Gladys, and for Elvis. You put a hand on your forehead and try to calm yourself. Gladys was going to live. Everything was going to be okay. You keep repeating that until deep, dreamless sleep welcomes you.

When you wake up to the waiting room’s door opening, Elvis is still in your lap. You can tell it's been a long time because you’re absolutely starving. You put your hand on his head and pat it as you watch a nurse with a tray of food approach the two of you. Elvis shifts, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Honey?” he says, turning to you.

“I’m here.” Your hand goes to his shoulder.

The nurse sets down a tray with two bowls of oatmeal in front of you, pushing your pink flowers – Gladys’ favorite color – aside. “You two need to eat something. Haven’t had a bite since you arrived,” she says sweetly.

“Is there any news?” Elvis asks.

The nurse shakes her head. “I’m not your mama’s nurse, Mr. Presley. I just got assigned to bring you food. I don’t know anything.”

Elvis swallows and nods slowly. “What…what time is it?”

“6pm. You slept nearly fourteen hours.”

Elvis nods again, but he looks a little guilty. “You needed it, baby,” you say, handing his spoon to him. “You need to eat.” The nurse leaves.

Elvis looks down at his oatmeal. He doesn’t seem that interested in it, but you pick it up and set it in his hands anyways. “I know you’re not hungry, but you gotta have something.” You take a bite of your own oatmeal. It wasn’t delicious, but you were starving.

Elvis shook his head. “My stomach’s in knots. I can’t eat a thing.”

“I know. You have to try.” You take his spoon to scoop up a bite for him, putting it up to his mouth. He eats it. You can tell it instantly makes him realize how hungry he’d been. “Eat the whole bowl,” you tell him, handing him the spoon and getting back to work on your own food. Slowly, he nods and starts eating again. It takes a great weight off your chest to see him eating. You were a little worried about his state, but as he eats, a lot of color comes back into his face. By the time he’s finished the bowl, you’re almost done with yours. You take the last few bites and set down the empty bowl.

He looks a thousand times better now that he’s eaten. “You feeling better?” You ask him, and he nods.

“It’s gonna be ok,” you say, pulling him into a hug and putting your hand on the back of his head. You can feel his body relax against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

“I know. I know, Elvis.” That’s all you can bring yourself to say, feeling emotional as he pours his feelings onto you. You pull away from the hug and put your hands on the side of his face. “We’re gonna get through this, ok?”

He nods. “Ok. Ok.” You move your hands down to hold his, squeezing them. His eyes look into yours. He looks so tired and scared. Younger than usual. You smile at him, and he manages a weak smile back.

“Promise…promise me you’ll stay with me,” he asks, his voice trembling a little as he puts a hand on your cheek.

You nod. “I will. Forever. I’ll stay with you no matter what.” He visibly relaxes a little at this, like he’d been afraid of you leaving him. You rub the side of his shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about,” you promise, and he nods, sighing. You open your mouth to talk more, but as you do, the door opens and a different nurse comes through.

“Mr. Presley?” she says.

“Yes?” Elvis turns to her, taking his hand off of you.

You turn to look at him. His eyes are wide.

“Uh…your mother…she went into cardiac arrest,” the nurse says, tears starting to fill her eyes.

“What?” you ask.

“Her heart gave out. She’s…gone. I’m so sorry,” the nurse says, her voice breaking with sadness. Gone? The world stops for a moment, and you can’t feel anything, blinking over and over again until you snap out of it.

You turn to Elvis. He’s staring at the wall in front of him. He swallows, but doesn’t move a muscle. His eyes are wide.

You bite your lip to keep from crying.

“Would you like to see her and say goodbye, Mr. Presley?” the nurse asks.

Elvis’s lip starts to quiver and his brow furrows as he continues to stare at the wall. You run your hand up his back. He looks numb. Incredibly disoriented.

“Elvis, honey,” you say, but he interrupts you.

“No.” His voice is weak, but firm. “She–she can’t be gone.”

You don’t know what to say, inhaling a shaky breath from your nose. “I’m sorry,

honey,” you say.

“She can’t be gone,” he repeats, turning to you. You grab his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

“Mr. Presley, if you’d like to see her now, you can say your goodbyes,” the nurse repeats. Elvis shakes his head. It’s like he doesn’t believe this is real.

“Come on, honey,” You say, standing up. He shakes his head, but you tug on him and he stands. He numbly follows, keeping your hand in his and his eyes on the floor. As you walk out of the room, he opens his mouth as if to say something, but all that comes out is a shaky gasp. You squeeze his hand. “You’re okay.”

His jaw is shaking still as you follow the nurse into a private suite. When she opens the door, Gladys is lying on the bed. She looks peaceful. She’s not breathing. She is still. Utterly lifeless. It really hits you then, and you start to feel tears come down your cheeks. Your eyes glance at the other side of the room, where Vernon is sitting, sobbing, with his head in his hands. You look up at Elvis, who approaches the bed slowly and reaches for his mother’s hand. When he feels her skin against his, reality smashes into him and he breaks. He takes several fast, gasping breaths before he starts to cry. He can’t stand anymore, dropping onto his knees with a thud and keeping Gladys’ hand in his. His head is down but you can see the stream of tears and hear the violent, anguished, gasping sobs you’d never heard someone make before. He mumbles something between his cries, but it’s unintelligible. You squat beside him and put your hand on his back, feeling him shaking over and over again as cries wrack his body.

You can’t help but cry quietly beside him, feeling his grief. Glancing over at Vernon, you see still has his head in his hands, unable to look at his wife or son. You don’t know how long you stay like that. Next to Elvis, listening to him cry and rubbing his back. You’ve never seen someone so sad. His sobs eventually turn to gasps and whines, and you look out the window and see the sun is starting to set. Your feet are starting to go numb. Elvis starts to quiet after a while, and the nurse speaks softly, gently.

“We have to take her to the morgue now, Mr. Presley,” she tells him.

“No,” he cries, squeezing her hand tighter. You stand up a little and put your hands on his waist, trying to get him to stand up by pulling. He’s stubborn, but weak, and you’re able to pull him to his feet. He takes one look at his mother’s face and starts sobbing again. He turns to you and you put your hand on his cheek. His eyes and the area around them are red, contrasting his pale, tear-soaked face. His breathing is too fast. He’s not getting enough air.

“Elvis, sit down,” you tell him. “You’re going to make yourself pass out, honey.” You ease him towards the chair opposite Vernon’s, and he all but collapses into it. “Breathe. Slower,” you tell him as he bends over, putting his head in his hands. You pat his back in a slow rhythm to try and get him to relax and regulate his breathing. Vernon has stopped crying now and shakes hands with the nurse as she apologizes to him. You don’t watch, but you hear the footsteps and the wheels start to roll as they take Gladys out of the room. Elvis can’t hear it over his cries and gasps, but after a few minutes of you whispering to him and patting him gently, his breathing evens out and he looks up to see that she’s gone. Vernon comes over.

“Son, we need to go now,” he says quietly. You can see Elvis’s eyes are welling up with tears again. “There’s—there’s a car waiting for us outside.”

You nod, taking Elvis’s hand and helping him up slowly. You guide his arm around your shoulder. There’s no way he can walk in this state on his own. You follow Vernon to the exit of the hospital. He’s silent, keeping his head down and shuffling slowly next to you as you make your way into the backseat of the car outside. Elvis puts his head in his hands as the car takes off, and you keep your hand on the upper part of his back, pressing your other hand on his thigh. The ride is silent save for Elvis’s small gasps between cries, and it goes by quickly. As you pull up to Graceland, Vernon gets out of the car on his side and comes around to you and Elvis’s side, opening the door for the two of you. Elvis looks up and takes his father’s hand to get out of the car and you follow, letting him put his arm around you again. You silently take him upstairs and into his room, lowering him to the bed gently before sitting to the left of him. He’s still crying, much quieter than before, but you can hear his shaky breaths and soft whimpers. He’s on his side, trembling, with his back facing you.

“Elvis,” you whisper softly. It’s hard for you to keep your composure. You’d known Gladys for six years, being Elvis’s girlfriend since senior year. Losing her was painful for you, too. But it was a million times more painful for Elvis, and it hurt you to see him suffering so much. “Elvis, honey, you’re gonna be ok.” You put your arm over his waist, resting on his stomach, and your other hand combs through his hair gently.

“I c-can’t live wi-without her.” His stuttering cuts a hole in your heart, a reminder of the shy, nervous boy who was bullied for his speech impediment when he was younger. He still stutters occasionally now, especially when he’s upset or tired.

“You will, baby,” You say. He has to. Your hand that was in his hair moves to his face, to his soft cheeks which are stained with tears that you wipe away. You have a decent view of his face. You’ve never seen him so sad in your life. You’ve never seen anyone so sad.

“I can’t,” he cries, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. You wipe them again.

“You can. You’ll go on,” you tell him, leaning down and kissing his temple. “You’re gonna be ok. I promise.” It doesn’t stop his crying, but he does lean into your touch a little more.

The door bursts open, and you turn to see the Colonel and Vernon in the doorway.

“Elvis,” the Colonel says, “There’s some people who want to take some photographs outside. The press.”

“N-no,” Elvis says, keeping his back to the door.

“Elvis…” Vernon says.

“Just a few photographs. They’re not going to do anything to hurt you,” the Colonel reassures him.

Elvis seems a little calmed at the Colonel’s words, and he slowly sits up and wipes his eyes. “I’ll…I’ll go out f-for a few minutes,” he says. You help him out of bed and walk with him behind the Colonel and Vernon down the stairs. As he walks out the door with Vernon, you sit down at the bottom of the steps and put your head in your hands, letting yourself cry. Gladys is gone. Forever. You hadn’t seen much of her over the past few months, temporarily moving back into your parents’ house when Elvis left, but when you came to Graceland to check in on Elvis’s parents while he was away, she was always sad, drinking or taking pills. She was heartbroken when Elvis left. She’d lost her first son and couldn’t bear the thought of losing her other.

As you cry, you feel a tap on your shoulder and look up to see the Colonel holding a glass of water. “Thank you,” you mumble, taking a drink and wiping your mouth before handing the glass back to him. He wordlessly nods sympathetically and walks away. After a few minutes of staring at the door in front of you, it opens and Elvis comes back in. You stand up and he comes into your arms.

“You did good…you did good,” you tell him, rubbing your hand up and down his back. He doesn’t respond. He’s still shaking from head to toe, weak with grief, barely able to breathe from the pain clenching his throat and pressing on his chest.

“Come on, honey,” you say. “Let’s go upstairs…” You pull away from him, wrapping an arm around him, and guide him up the stairs and back into his room. He collapses onto the bed, curling on his side again. He’s stopped crying for now, numbly looking out the window and taking labored breaths with his arms over his chest. He looks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

There’s no point in trying to get him to change. After everything that happened today, you worry that the effort could be too much. You can give him a bath tomorrow and change him into something more comfortable. At the very least, you’ll take off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his undershirt and boxers for the night. Leaning down, you easily unbutton his pants, and he lets you slide them off. Getting his shirt off is harder. You have to pry his arms away from his chest to unbutton it and pull it off, setting it on the floor. He crosses them again, still keeping his eyes in straight ahead.

“You’re gonna be ok.” Your voice is soft and gentle, as reassuring as you can make it. He looks up to you and shakes his head, his face crumpling and chest shaking visibly as he draws in a breath. It’s the only night he’s ever spent in his life without his mama.

“I…I c-can’t sleep knowin’ she’s not here,” he whispers. “We slept in the same bed till I was thirteen. And now…” Tears start to stream down his face again, and you lay down behind him, kissing the nape of his neck.

“I know. I know…” that’s all you can say. He starts to sob again. You don’t even know how he has it left in him. He must be exhausted at this point, having cried for some five hours at this point, seeing as the sky is black now.

Your hand gently rubs his side back and forth, trying to soothe him, but you’re exhausted too. “It’s gonna get better, baby,” you say softly, but he continues to sob and shake.

“I can’t….I can’t live without her…I can’t,” he repeats over and over again between cries. The pain of seeing him like this is palpable and exists on every level, aching in your chest, pounding in your head, gripping your throat.

“It’s ok. You’re ok.” Your hand gently goes under his shirt, feeling the bare skin of his side. He doesn’t feel like he’s the wrong temperature in any way. That’s a good sign, but it does little to ease your worry for him as you closely feel his desperate breaths under your hand. “Breathe, baby, breathe,” you urge him. It’s like he physically can’t, like it’s not just grief that’s attacking him, but panic.

“You have to calm down, Elvis. You’re going to hurt yourself. Please.” Your begging does nothing. He can’t stop crying. He can’t relax even for a moment. You resolve to continue rubbing up and down his side and whispering gently to him, reminding him that you’re there and you’ll stay.

When you look out the window, the stars are out but there’s no moon in the sky. Memphis is quiet save for Elvis’s raspy sobs and desperate gasps for air. You put your head down on the pillow. The only thing you can do is continue to be with him, praying that tomorrow will bring some form of peace to your troubled hearts.

But it doesn’t.

thank you for reading <3 I love you!

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dark-raven-666 · 2 months

Text

Reader tells Baldwin IV that he is beautiful.

Tags: fluff, reader is Baldwin's childhood best friend.

Warnings: mentions of leprosy and death?

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

He turned slowly, the silver of his mask glinting in the light. Behind the mask, a pair of blue eyes: the left as clear as a crystal, the right cloudy and bloodshot framed by a marred, disfigured eyelid.

"You came" he said almost in a whisper.

"I promised didn't I? " she responded, with a smile on her face. She was the kings childhood best friend who he had finally found again. Before she disappeared she swore to always find him when he called.

"I hear you still enjoy chess. " She sayd her voice soft.

All he could do was stand there, still and frozen as if the time had stopped, then he spoke in a whisper "yes".

The two kept staring at each other as she sat across him on the table. She would have spoken, asked him how he had been, yet from the state of his bandaged body and masked face, she knew.

Then she says "I heard you won a great victory at sixteen."

The king’s brows raised slightly, a flicker of surprise passing across his features. “Strategy and tactics are what ultimately won me the day, despite what the odds were.”

She smiled and proceeded to speak "You think you only won because of that? Salahuddin is a smart man, he has conquered many lands. I believe the Lord was in your side".

The king only looked at the lady before him. Waiting for her to continue speaking.

"If it was not God then something was wrong that day. Salahuddin never acts in rage, he thinks and calculates. Something happened that drove him to be careless" the lady spoke as if she truly was curious as to what had been troubling the Muslim warrior that day.

All Baldwin could do was nod and say "Perhaps you are right. His rage may have blinded him, given me the opening I needed.”

They looked at each other for a moment each gazing into the others eyes.

She broke the silence and said "you do not belong in Jerusalem."

The king’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his head cocked to one side. “What makes you say that?” He questioned, his tone curious rather than angry.

"I know you are a religious man but you are also a leper. This hot climate will bring upon your death faster. " She spoke, her words cutting his heart, yet he knew she was right. The holy city, a hot city in Palestine was no place for a leper.

The king stiffened ever so slightly, and he was silent for a moment. “You are correct.” He eventually muttered. “The climate of Jerusalem is not suitable for those with my illness. The warmer the conditions, the more rapidly the leprosy spreads.”

He looked down at the table, avoiding her gaze. “Unfortunately, I know not where to go. "

"Are you not French? Go to France, visit your home land, and if it does not feel right, go else. You will find home eventually" She said her voice growing quieter towards the end.

A pause, as the king considered her suggestion. “France…” He mused quietly. “I have not been there since.... I do not remember.”

A soft exhale, almost like a sigh, escapes his lips. “I suppose going back is a possibility, but… I am too familiar with the land. I cannot be the warrior in which I was, the king that I am. The people will judge me, and… see me as nothing but leper.”

"It is agonizing isn't it? To have your freedom taken from you for title of king? I bet a man like you would rather be something else. " She spoke quietly, imagining him as a common man.

The king lets out a heavy, exhausted sigh, his head bowing slightly. “Indeed, it is agonizing.” He mutters, his voice thick with the weariness he is so familiar with.

“A man like me…” He repeated the words softly, his tone contemplative. “Perhaps that is true…”

" Your illness made you who you are now, they say yet all I see is a 13 year old boy wanting to play, hoping to marry, hoping to live to a 100.

Yet they are right... You would not have been as smart if the leprosy had not kept you at home, your only entertainment books. Perhaps days come when your body aches, you look at the roof of the bed and wish that you were stupid and healthy. "

The king is silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the board before him, his mind elsewhere as the woman speaks. He can only see the days in which he spent sitting inside, unable to move about and play and explore as he so desperately longed for as a child. The countless books he’d read, the stories he’d heard and the lessons he’d learned.

The years of sitting in a quiet room in his home, his only company being the books, the teachers, the family. It had been an endless cycle.

"They look at the disease and say you are ugly. I look at your eyes and say you are the most beautiful I have ever seen" Her voice had been now filled with passion and adornment for the man before her.

The king is at a loss for words, left silenced by the woman’s soft, sincere declaration. He stares at her in quiet awe, her statement taking root in his mind and leaving him stunned.

Nobody had ever seen him that way. For years, he’d been shunned and avoided. Called vile and revolting. Hideous, deformed.

He was quiet for several long moments, blinking slowly. “You… think I am beautiful…?”

"The most beautiful." She whispered and laid her hand on his gloved one.

#kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fandom #koh fandom #the leper king #authors #author #koh fan fiction #fan fiction #authors of tumblr #baldwin x reader #baldwin iv x reader

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 10 months

Note

i watched spto and i'm down bad for matthew patel now so uh- can i request platonic matthew patel x reader where reader works at gman media and they become friends with him after he realizes just how out of his depth running the place and just like breaks down to the nearest person that he has no idea what he's doing?

Oufh I gotta admit the same thing-

......

Being a custodian at G-Man Media certainly wasn't the job you hoped for, but at least it was a job that paid well...better than anything McDonalds could have provided.

And of course, that's only because it used to be run by gazillionaire Gideon Graves.

Yes. Used to.

There was a huge change in management that literally happened overnight--as your boss was defeated in battle by Matthew Patel, and he became the CEO of pretty much everything the former had.

The two record labels, fourteen animal shelters, movie studio, etc. etc. were now all his for the taking.

Never in a million years would you imagine that this theater-obsessed punk who was Ramona's first evil ex-boyfriend would be able to overthrow the G-Man himself.....and yet he won.

Of course, the aforementioned battle they had resulted in some serious damages and a lot of repairs having to be done in several rooms and floors. But if anything you were just relieved Matthew chose to disband the League of Evil Exes. You didn't have to clean up all their messes or fix anything Luke, Todd, or the twins' robot might have broken.

Even better was that Gideon wasn't around to nitpick at every little thing anymore.

That was a huge upside for you.

On the downside, however...your new boss was somehow both better and worse than him.

Matthew was thrown into such a tough role so quickly, and while he seemingly had everything under control with his demon hipster chicks becoming his agents.....sometimes he just looked lost.

Sure, he seemed to like shouting out orders and getting escorts in fancy helicopters, but when it came down to actual business stuff, he kept asking his employees about different things--even painfully obvious things.

You've never talked to him much even before this, although you usually keep to yourself and don't really speak unless spoken to. But you can tell he's struggling to maintain his image.

Still, you don't wanna say anything that might anger him or get you fired.

And besides, he had mystical powers that were ten times cooler than anything Gideon ever had, so pissing him off would be most unwise.

.......

It's late in the evening when you're heading to your final stop before getting to go home: Matthew's office.

He didn't say anything in particular had to be repaired, although you figured there was no harm in double-checking things. For all you know, the TV's wiring might need to be fixed or a screw in the table might've come loose.

Hopefully he didn't mind. You're usually in and out of there by the time he returns from whatever business trip he attended.

Yet upon entering his office, you stood in your tracks upon seeing that he was there, sitting all alone....apparently brooding and monologuing to himself. You were used to seeing him doing that sort of thing.

But this time something seemed...off.

Even his demon agents were concerned and looked grateful you showed up, immediately stepping aside so you could walk in further, hearing his mumbling become more coherent.

"What am I doing with my life? This isn't what I went to college for..."

"Mr. Patel, sir?" You called out cautiously. "Is everything okay?"

"....no, actually. Everything is NOT okay!" Slamming his hands onto the table, he stared up at you from across the table, taking a moment to identify you. You could see how exhausted and bloodshot his eyes were, along with his eyeliner looking more smudged. "You're the custodian, right...[y/n], was it?"

You blinked, surprised he remembered your name. "Correct. I was just-"

"Look, [y/n]..I've been feeling really awful lately and I just need to....get some stuff off my chest. And since you're the only one here right now, you get to listen to me." He then pointed to a chair near him. "Sit, and don't you dare tell anyone what we've discussed, capiche?"

Even though the clock was ticking close to the time you went home, concern over your boss' mental stability took priority over everything else at that moment. So you listened to his demand and took a seat, remaining silent and patient.

As Matthew slumped back into his chair, his whole expression shifted into one of sadness, as though he just lost his best friend. "I'm....not cut out for this job..." He confessed. "This isn't what I envisioned myself doing."

"I imagine it's been difficult. But for the record, you've only been doing this for-"

"I've already lost this company billions of dollars."

You blinked. "Billions, sir?"

"Yes, billions! You know, I-I only defeated Gideon Graves in battle because he would have taken my life if he won. And for a while it felt good to have all of his fame and fortune.......but now it....i-it just sucks! The paperwork never stops, I can barely catch a break, I don't know any of the computer passwords, and I don't even like wearing this stupid suit!!" Laying his head on the table, he banged his fist against it, choking back tears. "I'm a theater major..not a business major, damn it!"

'Poor Matthew..' You frowned slightly. "If all of this is so overwhelming, maybe you could-"

"No." He quickly sat up, his face darkening with a deep scowl. "I am NOT giving anything back to that lying scumbag! Besides, we have a legally binding contract that states all his properties are mine! That means permanently! Forever!"

"My apologies, sir..i-it was only a suggestion." You put your hands up, feeling tense especially as his demons were now frowning at you. "I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately...and there's no shame in admitting that."

Matthew blinked. "You've noticed?"

"I have." You nodded. "I mean..a lot of people go to college for one thing and suddenly wind up in an entirely different field. I know my opinion may not matter much, but...I think you're doing a great job despite your lack of experience."

He shrunk back, no longer looking angry but rather...guilty?

"Thank you.." He sighed. "I'm sorry for never saying this, but you've been a huge help cleaning up after all our messes when we had the League of Evil Exes. So..you better give yourself a little credit, too."

Now it was your turn to be flattered, as you smiled and chuckled. "Thank you, Mr. Patel. I appreciate that."

"Uh-huh..and there's something else, too.."

"And what would that be?"

"....I only refuse to throw in the towel because this company can give me the funds necessary to make the Scott Pilgrim musical a reality." He confessed.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. "A musical based off of that guy you killed?"

"Yes. But apparently he's alive. Ramona told me."

"....I see-"

"BUT as soon as the production takes off, I may or may not return some of Gideon's empire to him. I'm sure that asshole is scheming to reclaim it as we speak..." He grumbled, his attitude turning sour again.

You thought about what you could say to cheer him up without patronizing him...but fortunately that wasn't too hard to figure out.

"I wouldn't worry about him. May I ask who you'll be starring as in the musical?" You rested your arms on the table, smirking as you saw the way Matthew's eyes lit up.

"Why, of course!" With a wide grin, he jumped up onto the table, dramatically posing. "I will be the main character: Scott Pilgrim!! I vow to delight and entertain people everywhere!" He laughed, before he stopped and stared down at you. "[Y/n], may I show you a presentation of my many one-man shows? They've all prepared me for this moment and I'd love your opinion on them."

"Sure." Shrugging, you smiled and leaned back in your seat. "I'm getting paid overtime for this, right?"

His face fell flat. "...I'm supposed to give you guys overtime?"

"Well...Gideon never did, but--nevermind." You shook your head. "You can roll the footage."

His grin returned as he snapped his fingers, causing the room to darken and the TV to come to life, showing off one of his many recorded performances.

It was a two hour long video, but entertaining nonetheless. You recognized a lot of the songs and were impressed by all his method acting.

It's no wonder he made such a convincing CEO.

After that, he finally allowed you to go home with a promise to give you overtime....although not before he exchanged phone numbers with you as thanks for being his unofficial therapist for the day.

He claims it's so he can update you on the musical's progress and "other business stuff", as he put it.

But he kept calling you on your days off to talk, insisting you referred to him as Matthew instead. "Mr. Patel" was slowly starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

You didn't mind it, though.

At this point, you accepted the fact that you became your boss' first (and possibly only) friend.

Maybe after he surrenders the G-Man empire for good, that friendship can continue.

#clanask #anonymous #scott pilgrim x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #spto x reader #matthew patel #matthew patel x reader #platonic

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swarvey · 4 months

Note

I honestly love how you're writing and am trying to learn from it. Could I please request how they would be as parents? I don't care who, have fun with it. I just like reading your stuff ☺️

how he is as a parent | sdv x g/n!reader

after settling down together on the farm, you and alex decide to take the next step and bring a baby into your life.

a/n: awww you are so, so sweet! this actually means the world to me <3 alex was the main character who came to mind, but i'm open to writing more! enjoy <3

alex

absolutely cannot wait to be a dad.

he's thought about it countless times, especially when his father treated him badly

doesn't ever let himself become discouraged by his own experience though, he actually uses it as motivation

will definitely spoil the hell out of your kid, no matter what

the thought of alex with a daughter is especially heartwarming to me though ...

(definitely the dad to hunt down her ex bf)

"come on, honey, open the door," you sigh, knocking on the entrance to your teenage daughter's room. "you have to eat dinner."

no response, though your heart breaks at the sound of her crying quietly. alex walks up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. you place yours on top of it, looking at him worriedly.

"she still hasn't come out?" he asks, shocked. "here, let me try." you gladly let him take your place by the door, rubbing your face in exhaustion. you've been trying to coax her to come out for the past hour.

"honey, it's dad!" alex calls out. you can tell he's trying to sound normal, though the worry glazing his eyes gives him away. "why don't you at least open the door so we can give you a plate of food, sweetie? you shouldn't go to bed on an empty stomach, it's not good for you."

"i'll eat later, dad," she replies, her watery voice just barely making it past the door. "i'm not hungry."

he freezes. "are you crying?" he turns to you, concern washing over his face. "now you really have to open this door, sweetheart, or else we'll have to call robin over to fix it after i bust it down."

"alex!" you say, smacking his arm. "you are not breaking down this door."

"oh, i definitely will. i think you forget you're talking to a former aspiring gridball player — i have personalized routines for my shoulders, back, biceps, pecs—"

"okay, okay! i get it!" both of you hear your daughter sigh as she slowly opens the door, revealing her tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. "sorry for making you worry," she mumbles, falling into alex's open arms. you rub her back as she continues to cry, hiding her face in his shoulder.

"you have nothing to be sorry for," you reassure. "just tell us what's wrong."

alex lifts her face, pinching her nose playfully. you can't help but smile as he makes her laugh, more than glad to see her break out of her sadness even for a moment.

"that's completely right," alex agrees. there's a certain sweetness in his voice he only uses for his daughter. "you can talk to us, okay? what happened?"

she sniffs and wipes her eyes before replying, "my boyfriend broke up with me."

"he what?!"

any composure your husband had is thrown out the window. you stifle a laugh at your daughter's shocked face as alex picks her up effortlessly, carrying her bridal-style towards the front of the house with you trailing behind them.

"honey, where do you keep your tools again? i think we'll be needing your axe."

"dad, what are you—"

"or your sword! that would probably be more scary, right?" he pauses, turning to you with a smile. "i mean, i was pretty scared when i saw you holding a sword for the first time."

you and your daughter laugh loudly, tears forgotten as alex continues to storm around the house with her in his arms, demanding to know where he lives and how muscular he is. you watch idly, suddenly emotional as you realize his dream of becoming a good dad has become a reality. unexpected tears fill your eyes, just as they round back to where you're standing.

alex stops in his tracks. "now my other baby's crying," he sighs, "and i really have no clue why this time. well!" he sets his daughter down, ruffling her hair. "give me one second, princess."

"alex, don't you dare," you threaten, backing away. "i'm warning you!"

the night ends with your daughter happily eating dinner while alex pleads you to forgive him for tickling you.

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #stardew valley x farmer #sdv alex #sdv alex x farmer #sdv alex x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #.lin’s asks!

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ryleigh130 · 8 months

Text

Nightmares - - ryleigh130

Summary- reader has a nightmare, Price finds them and helps.

Characters- cap. price, mentioned gaz, ghost and soap

Word count- 1.5k

Relationships- platonic!cap. price & gn!reader.

Warnings- gore, death, throw up, profanity, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

Note- Thank you all so much for the support I got on my last post! If you enjoy this fanfic then go and check out my other post! As always if any of you would like to have a specific prompt be written about, feel free to message me! That’s all, enjoy!! <33

————————————————————————

Gunshots echo around the clearing. You whip your head around, panting with effort as the gear you're carrying drags you further and further down. Every step is a struggle; it feels like you're carrying the weight of 4 grown soldiers on your back. Your legs burn like fire as you try to continue taking steps. You're exhausted. Still, you can't stop; you have to make it back to the others, no matter the cost.

After what felt like an eternity you finally make it out of the clearing, the sounds of gunshots still linger as you now make your way towards the exfil point to meet with the others.

The metallic smell of fresh blood immediately hits your nostrils as you approach the exfil point. With the last bit of strength you have you rush forward, praying you’re not too late and that you can save them.

You’re too late.

The sight in front of you makes you want to puke. The bodies of your teammates, no, your family, lay before you - bloody, beaten, and dead. You rush forward, tears streaming down your face, and drop to your knees in front of Gaz. Your hand hovers over his dead body, unsure of where to touch. You look to your right and see Soap’s unseeing eyes, with blood still pouring out from the wounds littering his face, neck and torso. You can't move, you can't think, you can't do anything except stare at the horrors before you. Your heart aches with every beat, each second feels like an eternity. The smell of blood and death is overwhelming, making you dizzy and nauseous. You want to scream, but your voice is lost. You want to run, but your legs won’t move. All you can do is sit there, in the midst of the carnage, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on you.

You hear rather than feel a presence behind you. Whipping your head around, you let out a pitiful sob at the sight. Ghost. Except, it wasn't the Ghost you knew and loved. This Ghost was staring at you with such hatred in his eyes that it made you feel sick all over again. This Ghost had blood covering him from head to toe, his mask was half torn, giving the world a view of his usually mysterious face. The sheer terror and hatred in his eyes left you frozen, unable to move or say anything. You just stared back at him, tears burning your eyes as they spilled down your cheeks.

Wordlessly, he unholstered the gun he had on his left thigh and raised it to your head.

“N-no p-please!” You stutter out, terrified. Your begging seemed to have no effect on him as he slowly, took the safety off the gun and cocked it.

“PLEASE! Please, Simon I’-“ a shot rings out.

————————————————————————

"PLEASE!" You feel your eyes fly open, and you throw yourself out of bed, half tripping on the blankets tangled around you. You make a run towards the bathroom, and you make it just in time as you start dry heaving into the toilet, emptying your guts from everything you ingested in the last 24 hours. Tears stream down your face as you rest your hot head on the cool surface of the toilet. You wipe your mouth, flush, and shakily get up to rinse your mouth out to get rid of that disgusting acidy taste.

You let in a shaky breath as you give yourself a good look in the mirror. Your eyes are bloodshot, you have dark bags under your eyes, and tear stain tracks running down your face. In short, you look like ass.

You run a hand through your hair and take a peak at the clock on your nightstand: 3:00 AM. You sigh, you know there is no way you’re going to be able to get back to sleep so instead, you decide to get a quick drink of water from the kitchen.

You walk unsteadily down the hall towards the kitchen where you grab a glass and fill it to the brim with water. You take the glass and chug the entirety of it, you then go to repeat the process. Before you could finish the second cup of water, a quiet voice startles you.

“[c/n]? What are you doing awake?” You turn around and stare like a deer in headlights at Captain Price, who has his arms crossed staring at you with a slightly concerned look. His concerned look deepens when he sees the state you’re in and in a second he’s across the room, gently holding you by the shoulders looking at your face.

“Woah kiddo, what’s wrong?” He asks worriedly. You shake your head and give him a small smile,

“S’nothing. Just needed a drink of water.” Price gives you an unimpressed look as he gently cups your cheek in his hand and wipes away the dried tears with his thumb.

“Yeah?Is that why you have these? And why you look like zombie, walking around here at 3 in the morning?” His tone is light but you can detect the seriousness in his words. You sigh and lean into his touch dejectedly,

“I… had a nightmare.” You look down at Price’s feet, not wanting to meet his searching eyes. Shame burns at your ears and neck as you admit to your Captain you can’t sleep because of a small nightmare. Before you could apologize and make your way back to your room, Price gently lifts your head up with his hand and gives you a firm look.

“Hey” he says firmly, “there is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone has nightmares; I do, you do, the others do, it is nothing to be embarrassed of, you hear me?” You met his eyes nervously but you see nothing in his face that would contradict his words. In fact, Price is looking at you with such soft and gentle eyes he looks almost affectionate.

You shake your head and look away quickly, the memory of you failing everyone, including Price, still haunts you. You don’t want to fail these people, you don’t want to ruin the one good family you have ever had. You know it’s only a matter of time before you do and by then they’ll probably be sick of you anyway but-

Price cuts off your spiraling thoughts with a gentle touch to your shoulder,

“Do you want to talk about it?” The question catches you off guard and has you fumbling with a response. After a few seconds of hesitation you nod. Price gives you yet another soft look before he nods and motions you to follow him. You follow him down the hall, out of the kitchen and towards his room. He opens the door gently and closes it softly behind you, he then motions you to sit down.

You take a hesitant seat on the bed, you pull your knees up to your chest and hug them. You feel the bed dip and Price sits next to you, he puts his arm around you and pulls you down so you’re lying with your head on his chest. You both sit in silence for a while before you get the courage to speak,

“You should just get rid of me now.” You feel Price jerk as you speak, but before he could protest you continue.

“I’m just gonna let you guys down, I’m not like you guys. I’m not strong like Ghost, or smart like Soap, I’m not nearly as quick witted as Gaz and I’m certainly nothing like you. All my flaws are gonna get one of you lot killed, and I can’t be the cause of that. I just can’t.” You finish off your rant with a shaky breath as the tears threaten to fall from your eyes once again. Before you could process it, you feel Price drag you into a bone crushing hug. You feel a quick kiss pressed to your head.

“Quit it. You are so important to us, to the team, you hear me? You are brilliant on and off the field, you could never and I mean NEVER let us down. So we are sure as hell are not getting rid of you, do I make myself clear?” Price asks firmly, you open your mouth to protest.

“But-“

“Ah! No buts! Kid, you are so important to us, to me. We wouldn’t be able to survive without you around, you are so strong, and smart, and kind. Without you, I honestly think we’d go crazy! Plus, who would we have to drive Gaz crazy?” Price looks at you with bright, teasing eyes. You crack a small smile,

“Soap” you say simply. Price lets out a small chuckle, he drags you closer to him and you lay your head back on his chest.

“That’s true. But still, it wouldn’t be the same.” He gently rubs small circles on your back causing you to start to drift off. After a few minutes you’re almost completely asleep,

“Cap’n?” You say sleepily. Price chuckles affectionately,

“Yeah kid?” You smile softly,

“Thank you, I love you.” Price’s face lights up with love and admiration as he tightens his grip on you,

“Love you too kid. G’night.” You close your eyes. You have a happy smile on your face as you drift to sleep, and if you wake up cuddled next to your favorite Captain in the morning, well, who’s gonna know?

#cod mw2 #fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #g/n reader #comfort #fluff #nightmares

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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months

Text

The Bear & His Honey Chapter 4

Inspo: Quote- “ Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me- I should know. I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.” Dedication: @daysofyellowroses - bestie thank you for inspiring and encouraging me to write. I haven’t felt more alive and inspired then I have in the past few days writing again. Thank you!! This is for you loveyyyy. Summary: Winnie & Carmy get closer. Have a marg over a mini therapy session, Winnie fixes up Carm’s panic injury. They find out there may just have been a single thread of gold tying them together the entire time. W/C: 5,484 A/N: Oh my lanta y’all!! 2 chapters in one day?! I promise- PROMISEEE tonight I am figuring a master list out, because I (myself) have been struggling to keep things canon to the story by having to scroll and scroll through my page to find each part to see what I said for Winnie, LOL! So get hype for that, I love this chapter even more then the last bc it has more Carmy, but Richie is so fun to write and I can’t wait for he&Winnies friendship to bloom!!! For my canon Carmy continues going to therapy once or so a week / a support group type talk therapy so that is why he shares more than he would in the show. It’s on his one day off so that’s why he is able to continue making it, and he thrives on routine so going once a week keeps him regulated. Warnings for BTC: A little bit of smut, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of vehicular accidents ending in death, mentions of self-harm, mentions of severe injury, negative self-talk, feminine yearning (ofc), fluffy fluff (enough for your teeth to rot out of ur face), panic disorder, mentions of a panic attack, heavy petting, alcohol, mentions of smoking cigarettes, mental health issues, exhausted Carmy LOL

𝒞𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉!

Read Chapter 3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The door flings open and before I could even get a good look at him his arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, his large hands resting on my rib cage, and thumbs gently rubbing soothing strokes. I gasped a bit in surprise at the contact, his muscular chest pressed to mine. Pulling me tighter and he nuzzles his face in my neck, his hot breath causing goosebumps to appear all over my skin. I inhaled his scent, a bit of his musky spicy cologne still left over after the long day, cigarette smoke, and a day of working, but he didn’t smell bad at all. I would buy a fucking candle of it if I could, and never burn it so it lasts forever.

He needed this hug.

“Thank you f’ comin’, Winnie. I really need a drink, like now” he said quietly and I bit my lip, my hands rubbing soothing circles in the middle of his back. “Course, you think I’d turn down a free drinky-drink from the sexiest little Chef boy in Chicago?” He chuckled into my neck, feeling a small smile press into my skin. “I’m sorry” he pulls away and I finally am able to look at him.

His hair is a mess, cheeks are stained red, his eyes are bloodshot and glazed over like he’d been crying, he rubs the back of his neck and I see a bit of smeared blood over his forearm. “It’s- it’s okay, hard day?” I asked, twiddling my fingers anxiously, worried he was going to ask me to leave and tell me that it wasn’t a good time anymore. “Ye’” he replied in a sigh and I swallowed hard.

“D-did you- sorry,” my voice coming out small and meek. I clear my throat “Was it- not a good time for you? It’s fine, totally, totally fine…should have given my number I guess - but I can-“ I motion my thumb to the door down the hall.

“No! No, please, stay. It’s - it’ll be nice. To like- to see you. I meant sorry about,” he squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head “sorry for like- flinging myself on you?” He says and I giggle, causing him to look at me.

“I love hugs! You give great hugs, is that why your sister calls you Bear? Oh my god!! Wait. This is your- that’s so cool, Carmen! You’re so cool!” I motioned to the restaurant, alluding to the name. “That’s so fuckin cool dude!” He smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets shyly and looking at his feet.

“Thank you, but- uh. No. I’m not…usually a hugger which is why I’m also surprised I did that, guess I needed it. They call me bear cause - well. Don’t poke the bear kinda thing” he said and I took a few steps forward, our toes almost touching and his eyes met mine again. I raise my hand, and gently poke the flower tattoo adorning his left arm with my forefinger and smile. “Gonna bite me?” I quip, lifting my hands and poking short pokes all over his chest and he laughs a bit.

“Y’re cute” he said and I put a final poke on his nose, blush rising to my cheeks at the statement. “And very thirsty. Pour me a drink will you, bartender?” I turned around on the ball of my foot swiftly, walking with pep back into the kitchen and I look back at him, to find his eyes practically undressing me from where I’d left him moments ago. I grin, putting my hands on my hips “You staring at my ass isn’t making me any less thirsty over here, bartender!” I said and he blushes “sorry…sorry”

He comes out and places a hand at the small of my back leading me to the main part of the restaurant and towards the bar “you just - uh…you look really good. I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to get home, I wanted to but - shit just got outta control, Syd forgot about this huge cannoli order and we forgot to get the powdered sugar with the last resupply so I had to make powdered sugar - it was just-” I rub my hand up his arm gently, stopping him and grabbing his attention.

“It’s fine Carmen. You look fine. I’ll admit, a little bit tired. But you worked all day, I’ve been there” I shrug and he nods a bit, “thanks” he said softly walking behind the bar. I get up on one of the bar stools, crossing my legs and resting my chin in my palm looking over the restaurant and tapping my nails on the table. “This place is super nice, Carm, you should be so proud of yourself. It feels fancy but inviting too.” I hum admiring the lights and artwork on the walls.

“Why thank you, we all worked really hard. I’m surprised it came together every day, but super grateful.” He said, taking Patron off of the middle shelf and scooping ice into the mixer, counting to himself as he pours it. “Doesn’t show, you run a tight ship it sounds, Chef” I smiled. He snorts “how would you know? Or is it just the pans from earlier” he said and threw a few slices of jalapeño, lime, and mint in to the cup before closing it tightly and shaking.

“Yes and no, Richie told me, said that you were a good boy today though, and your sister was the one causing trouble” blush creeps into his cheeks. “Ye’ and see what happens when I’m ‘good’ as you told me to do? Shit got fucked” he pours in some club soda and mixes it with a bar spoon before pouring us both a glass. “Mmmm. Was that because you weren’t barking orders, or because something happened out of your control, and you’re blaming yourself?” I asked honestly and he set my glass down in front of me, biting his lip for a moment.

“Everything is out of my fucking control” he muttered and shook his head, as if it was a quiet, painful reminder to himself. “Most things, in most people’s lives, are out of our control” I gently rest my hand over his and he meets my eyes. “The only things you can control is if, and when you fall apart, and how well you glue yourself back together.” I said earnestly and he swallows thickly, nodding.

“I like that..thank you” he said and I nod. “Don’t worry, I won’t charge you- this time. But d’ya think I can get a fancy umbrella or somethin’ for this drink?” I smiled and nudged it toward him, he chuckled, shaking his head “you are somethin’ else, Winnie” he crouches down behind the bar with a grunt.

“Fuck. I’m 26 but my back feels 90” he said and I laughed a bit. “It’s all the cookin’! And being on your feet too damn much, My mom is a massage therapist, you should let me give you a massage sometime.” I said and he got back up, groaning dramatically which made me giggle. “For you, dear.” He drops a little pink umbrella into my cup.

“Oh my goodness you poor thing. Come sit down” I pat the spot next to me and plucked my bag off the seat, hanging it off the back of my chair. He comes around the bar, plopping down in the chair next to me with a sigh of relief. “I will absolutely take you up on your massage offer sometime.” He said, rubbing over his face tiredly and running his hands through his muss of curls before taking a sip of his own drink.

“Please do, I’ll pull out all the stops for ya’, but just so you know- a happy ending comes with a pretty cost” I said flirtatiously and nudged his leg with my boot playfully. He chuckled and looked over at me “yea? Thanks for the heads up I’ll be sure to budget accordingly for my trip to Winnie’s Massage Parlor” he teased and I laughed a bit.

“Yess!! Please do! There’s also Winnie’s salon, Winnie's hospital, and Winnie’s library!! Come by for all your daily needs I’ma’ Jane of all trades” I shrug and take another sip of my drink. “Speaking of” I take his left arm, looking at the inner part near the crook, where 4 large scratches were, done so violently that the skin beneath was turning into a speckled bruise meaning by morning it would be a dark purple.

“What happened?” I ask softly, my finger tip gently brushing over the untouched skin over the smeared, dried out blood below the wound. “Ahh-“ he shakes his head “it’s stupid. It’s not even bad don’t worry about it” he said and I looked at him, concerned. “Did- did Sug-“ he cuts me off quickly “Sugar, would never hurt me.” He said, his tone was deadly serious.

I nodded quickly, swallowing hard. “Okay, Carm, I believe you” I said softly and squeezed his wrist gently. “Will you…let me take care of you- please?” I ask quietly, looking into his eyes, my gaze pleading for a yes.

“So Winnie’s hospital is mobile?” He said with a small teasing smile. I roll my eyes playfully. “Yes, let’s go find the first aid kit, and honestly it’s pretty but like - empty in here and… I dunno” I bit my lip, hoping he got the hint and he nods “sure we - we can uh. Yeah. Let’s go sit in Sugars office. She has a couch” I nodded and hopped off the seat, gasping when the corner of it hooks onto the hem of my skirt as I get down and pulls it up, exposing my backside clad in a lacy red thong through the sheer bum part of my fleeced nylons.

“Oh my god!” I blurt as I quickly pulled it back down, my cheeks on fire, and my heart pounding in embarrassment. I hear Carmen burst out in laughter behind me making my embarrassment grow and I turned around, crossing my arms over my chest, my eyebrows becoming furrowed. “Hey!” I snip “what’s so funny!! Why were you looking peeping tom!” I whine and he covers his mouth to stifle the laughter.

“To make sure your munchkin self didn’t trip off of the stool in those clunky ass boots!! Being a gentleman really paid off for me there” he said and I went over slapping his arm gently with a smile growing on my face. “I guess it’s a good thing I wore panties or I would’ve mooned you” I grab my drink and turn around, a surprised chuckle coming from him.

“Holy shit, you go commando?” He asks, holding the kitchen door open for me “sometimes, she needs to breathe!!” I said with a shrug and pushed my bag up on my shoulder as I followed him back to Sugars office. “But what if you get horny?” He asked and I laughed, nudging him with my elbow. “Dude!! Richie said you were not forward with girls, that’s pretty forward” I set my bag down on sugars desk and he plops down on the big comfy sofa pulling out a recliner on his side and he sighs, closing his eyes.

“Gimme a sec’ this is the first time my feet are up since 1” he said and I sat down next to him, “you haven’t sat down since I left?!” I asked and he shook his head, opening his eyes and head falling to the side on the cushion to look at me. “Mm-mm” he hummed in response. “Where’s the first aid kit? I’ll find it” I said and he rubs his face, thinking.

“Uhhh. Oh there’s one in here actually, go over to the other side of Sug’s desk, it should be tucked there next to the wall” he said and took a sip of his drink. I got up, going where he said and I leaned over, completely forgetting the rules of skirts by mistake. “You’re a fucking tease” he said lowly and my heart pounds, my stomach fluttering wildly, and my core beginning to twitch and throb in excitement.

“What’s not nice about helping a new friend clean up their boo-boo’s?” I asked innocently, a small smile on my lips as I turned and sat down on the couch on the cushion next to him. He smirks “you…are gonna make me crazy” he said softly and closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the sofa. I opened the kit, taking out hand sanitizer, saline wipes, gauze, and triple antibiotic.

“Wait-“ he said his eyes flickering open “you- you met Richie?” He asks as if I hadn’t been mentioning him since I walked in the door, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It’s like- the first thing I said when I got here.” I said and he sighs softly. “I’m…sorry.” He finally said, like he was contemplating whether to say more. “That’s ok, you had a hard day” I took his arm gently, laying it across my lap. “What did he say? How bad did he embarrass me?” He questions and I giggle a bit, sanitizing my hands before opening a saline wipe.

“Not at all! He said you’re shy with girls, that he’s surprised you asked me out cause he thinks I’m pretty, and apparently, doesn’t think you are very funny- but I on the other hand, seemed to make him laugh a lot so- got you beat” I teased with a smile as I ever gently wipe over the wounds.

He snorts “well, you are pretty, he’s an asshole but right.” He said and I looked up at him “not many people make me laugh anymore, you seem to, though.” I said honestly, and he tugs his lip between his teeth to catch a grin from taking over his features. “Yea?” He asks quietly with a blush going across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. “Mmhmm” I hum in reply, putting the ointment on and carefully rubbing it in.

It was quiet for a moment before he says “I’m sorry.” Causing me to look up at him, but his gaze was stuck on the ceiling. “This wasn’t - I wanted to do something nice for you and… I’m sorry.” I stop working on his arm “sorry for what, Carm? This is so nice. The drink is really good, thank you for making it, I’m glad to be here.” I said honestly and placed my hand on top his.

His icy blue eyes meet mine, looking over my face slowly and locking on my lips. His eyes flick back to mine when he responds “you just look so pretty, like you should be on a real date. Not here fuckin-“ he sighs, looking down at his arm then back at me. “Dealing with my stupid mistake.” I shook my head and wrapped up his arm with a bandage to keep it clean and dry while he slept and it could scab over.

“This is a real date. You own a restaurant. Carmen. Look at me.” I order and he looks into my eyes. “You, just you, asking me to come see you, to be together, to get to know each other? You are enough. This is a date. An awesome date. I’m having fun, are you having fun?” I asked and he smiled a bit.

“No, but….” He trails off, looking at his lap and I felt my heart physically ache, my face drooping “peace” he finally said “I feel…at peace, with you around. I noticed it when we were outside earlier, I came out for a smoke cause I was about to absolutely loose it on Syd, and I don’t- I- I can’t do that to her. So I went out and I totally forgot my light and then..you were there and I forgot about everything.” He said.

Goosebumps arise on my skin at the admission, the warmth in my chest returning at full force. “And - I thought about you…all day- all-all day. Not like- god I sound like a creep” he takes his arm, rubbing his face in embarrassment. “I thought about you too.” I reply softly. “I thought about you…a lot. Actually.” I bit my lip and his eyes met mine, searching for truth and it was all he found in my locked gaze.

“Not like- I just couldn’t understand how I felt. But the more I think… I do this thing.” He rubs his chin as he thinks. “Learned it in therapy, they said when you can’t figure out how a person or a situation made you feel, you can like think of people and situations that you do know how you feel about, and keep comparing them until you find a match. S-so when I thought of you.” He swallows thickly and I sit up, completely entrenched in listening to him.

“I found that things that gave me the same feelings w-were like…my one day off a week that I don’t have to be here. I think of…the fucking morning I went to Central Park and watched the sunrise and it was so..so quiet. I think- I think” he presses his lips together. “O-of-of Mikey. Of my brother. He’s dead. But. H-he. He protected me a lot, growin’ up. Helped me out. A lot. I felt like when Mikey was around, it was alright. And that’s how I felt earlier. I’m sorry-“ he shakes his head, putting the recliner down and finishing off his drink.

“Why?” I ask and squeeze his hand “that’s…so, so sweet. You make me feel at peace too, unless you’re angry- but I was worried for you and what happened. I’m so happy I make you feel like that, Carmen. Thank you for sharing, may I hug you?” I ask gently and he looks at me a bit surprised. “Y-yea ‘fcourse c’mere” he opened his arms and I wrapped him in a warm embrace. “The way you make me laugh makes me feel the way my brother did when he made me laugh, we were twins. He died.” I said just above a whisper.

He rests his cheek on the top of my head, rubbing soothing circles in my back as I did for him earlier. “I’m so sorry, what was his name?” He asked, equally as quiet. “Chris, Christopher” I felt my lip quiver, that never dulling ache in my chest throbbing at the memory of him.

“Oh, wow” he whispered “Winnie and Christopher” I felt him smiling on my hair “your parents knew what they were doin’ with names, that’s adorable.” He said and I smiled a bit. “Thank you, can you guess what our nursery was?” I look up at him and he raises his eyebrows.

“Hmm.. let me think. Oh! I know, Dumbo?” He says sarcastically and I laugh, closing my eyes and nuzzling my face in his neck “Silly. Winnie the Pooh, I always said it was my room, because they had a big wall sticker of Winnie and all his animal friends, but not one of Christopher since they couldn’t find one. He hated that” I said and his fingers gently rubbed over the spot of bare skin between my skirt and my top. I feel him chuckle a bit “that’s cute” he said.

“How did Mikey…” I trail off, his fingers stilling. “Shot ‘emself” he said plainly and my hug around his torso tightens “I’m so sorry” I whisper in to his skin. “What about Chris?” He asked and I swallowed thickly. “We got in a motorcycle accident. I still can’t talk about it.” I said as evenly and emotionlessly as I could, if I opened that flood gate there was no shutting it.

“Oh- my god. Wow. I’m so sorry, I’m so glad you’re….” He trails off, realizing the other victim was very much not ok in any sense of the word. I sit up, taking my half full drink off the table and drinking it down in 3 big gulps. “Want another?” He asks and I shake my head, “work tomorrow” I said and he nods, “yeah me too” he muttered rubbing over his face.

“Can I…get your number?” I asked and he nodded sitting up “course you can” he said and took his phone out of his pocket, logged in and opened up a new contact screen, offering it to me. “Only if I can have yours” he said with a small smile. “Of course!!” I took it from him.

Winnie 🍯

I put as the contact name, and type in my number, hitting save before handing it back. I do the same for him on my phone and hand it to him, when it’s returned, I see

Carm🐻

I smile, deleting the emoji and switching it for a 🧸 instead. I show him with a tilt of my wrist “cause your awesome hugs.” I said and smiled, saving it again. He blushes, smiling and shaking his head “I think you’re the one who gives good hugs, you smell like honey and you’re all soft.” He said and I giggle. “I’m glad you like my perfume” I said and pushed my hair behind my shoulders.

“I do, it’s very nice. You live around here?” He asks and I nod “2 blocks that-a-way” I point behind us and he raises his eyebrows. “Really, what street?” He asked “Kensington Ave. The brownstones” I said and he chuckled “No shit. I live in the high rise across the way” he said and my mouth drops. “Wow. Work neighbors, and building neighbors, we’ve never met?” I giggle “you've been avoiding me?” I ask and he chuckles “never, uhh. I’m like never home. I go there to sleep for a few hours, and my days off I…sleep…the whole day usually, I usually get home around 1am and leave at like 4ish, sometimes 5 if I sleep in” I raise my eyebrows in disbelief.

“3 hours of sleep and you wonder why you feel 90? You need to sleep Carmen. You’re gonna have a heart attack.” I said and he chuckled. “If I would only be that lucky'' he joked, taking our empty glasses to the kitchen and I followed him “no- i'm serious, like you’re gonna drive yourself nuts.” I said, leaning on the counter watching him wash the glasses.

“I am already there sweetheart don’t worry, been there- ahh let’s see, 20? Maybe 19. So 7 years of insanity give or take.” He said and I giggled, shaking my head. “You are not nuts. A crazy person couldn’t run a restaurant.” I said and he snorted “that speaking is the mind of someone who doesn’t work in a restaurant. No, you have to be a psycho to do this shit. Especially at the level I do it.” He shuts off the sink, putting the cups on the drying rack and leaning on his elbows on the table mirroring me from across.

“I think you’re very, very passionate.” I brush his curls from his eyes “and that you sometimes get in your own way by not allowing people to help you.. which can make things harder” I said and he smiled, amusedly. “How do you already know so much about me, have you been stalking and avoiding me so I don’t find out?” He teases and I laugh. “Shut up, no. I have not. I dunno… like our souls know each other. That’s how I feel.” I shrug, crossing my hands under my chin and looking at him.

“Hmm” he says. “Do you believe in past lives?” He asks and I nod “for sure. And future ones. I don’t think we can learn everything in one go that our souls need” I shrug and he nods a bit. “We need to talk more about this when I don’t have a pounding headache from being so overtired” he said softly and I pout, “c'mon let’s walk home.” I said and headed back to the office to grab my things.

“I just have to go to the back and get my stuff gimme a few” he said from the kitchen. I waited by the island, shawl back on and bag on my shoulder. When he comes back out, my breath gets caught in my throat. Hes wearing delicious light grey sweatpants, blue Nike sneakers, and a plain white champion hoodie. As he lifted his arms to put his backpack on, the hoodie rode up, revealing his tight, toned stomach, and deep, deep V line. I lick my lips, imagining myself on my knees worshiping his god-like figure and he clears his throat.

I looked up again, realizing he completely caught me red handed checking him out like the hottest new library book and I felt my cheeks heat, giving a shy smile. “Ready?” He asked and I nod “ready” I said meekly, mentally face palming for my lack of discretion. “Y’know it’s not a bad thing to check me out, right? I guess for earlier you can call us even” He asked as we walked down the hallway and I nearly tripped over my own feet at the boldness. “Fuck you” I roll my eyes playfully and he opens the door for me.

“I’m a little tired right now, but for you? Anything. Your place or mine?” He asked and I laughed, slapping his chest playfully “you are a naughty, naughty little boy” I teased, wrapping my arms around his bicep as we walked. “Just letting you know allll the ways this glorious date could end” he said, a smug smirk on his face and I shook my head, looking at the sidewalk.

This was so nice. I usually am needing to check behind me every couple steps, am tensing at every noise or stranger I pass, but with Carmen I feel protected. Secure.

“I’ve never actually been able to enjoy this at night, I’m always looking over my shoulder wondering if I need to get my switchblade out” I chuckle shaking my head. “Switchblade? Damn. Can I see it?” He asks and I nod, digging in my purse and pulling out the pink knife attached with a MyMelody keychain to a can of mace.

I pulled away from him, hopping a few steps ahead. “Everybody watch out! I’m a woman that’s armed and dangerous!!” I giggle, clicking the little button and the hello kitty blade swings out with a click. He laughs, and I faced him, waving it around the air in front of me lightly “what’s so funny huh? I’m menacing Carmen, imagine I mugged you right now with a hello kitty knife” I said, causing him to laugh harder, clutching his stomach.

“Oh my god - please” he snorts in laughter causing me to laugh. “Awww little piggy!!” I teased and he gasps pretending to be offended. “okay! Rude! You better not snort ever or you’ll be the piggy miss” he said making me start laughing again “you are at my mercy right now, sir, have you so easily forgotten?” I gently wave the pewny knife in front of his face.

“Oh you sweet thing. I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He plucks it from my fingers easily, closing it. “Only because I have the strongest little chef in all of Chicago to protect me. My knight in sexy gray sweatpants and a white sweatshirt” I mused, a playful smile dancing on my lips. “Mmm ok we’re getting there. I don’t like the little part, but- we’ll get there” he joked, dropping the knife back in my purse.

“Oh, yeah?” I said, grabbing his arm again as we continued, our buildings come in to view. One of my hands trains down his arm, slinking my fingers to wrap between his. “Mmhmm” he hummed.

I stopped again, standing in front of him and wrapping my arms around his neck loosely, standing on my tip-toes even in my heels to reach his ear. “I think that you know, that I know, you’re the sexiest, most hard working, passionate, gentleman - that I’ve ever had the pleasure of having a chance with. And I also think that you know, I have bratty tendencies, and love pulling your chain because I know it gets you going. You wanna know what I’m 100% sure of, though?” My sultry hot breath caused goosebumps to come up on his neck, his hands wrapping around my waist and squeezing gently. “Was’ that baby” he said softly, his voice laced with desire. I lace my fingers in his hair, gently tugging at his frizzy curls from the day.

“I’m sure that you need a brat. Because what you need, Carmy.” I nibbled at his ear gently. His breath hitches in his throat, biting his lip to silence a soft moan. I wasn’t quite sure where all of this raw confidence and honesty was coming from, likely from the strong drink Carmy had made and my being a lightweight.

“Is to be able to force someone in their place, and have full unrelinquished control over the entire situation. For someone to give themselves to you, be fully yours. To use. To love. To worship. Whatever you desire. Cause you’re a control freak. But that’s sexy, that’s soo sexy. I love a man who knows what he needs” I place a soft, lingering kiss on his racing pulse point.

His hands trail down, cupping my ass before squeezing roughly and I moan softly at the contact. His hands were so strong, so large, but somehow the touch was still lacking confidence. “C-can I” he says softly, “can I kiss you, please?” He whispers. I lift my face to meet his, our noses brushing as I rest my forehead on his, looking into his eyes. His pupils were blown wide from both the dark and lust, the only peak of blue being a tiny sliver.

“That depends,” I said with a smirk adorning my lips, I nuzzle my nose against his gently. “Will you kiss me how you want, Carm? Or how you think I want?” I ask and he licks his lips. “I want to make you happy” he whispers, I twirl a curl at the base of his neck around my finger. “It will make me happy, if you take what you want from me” I whispered.

Before I could blink, his lips were on mine, kissing me hungrily- a war of tongue and lips, my fingers tightening around his hair and tugging smiling proudly when he moaned into my mouth. His hands trail my skirt, lifting it slightly to massage my backside in his hands wantingly. I let him take me, dominate me, own me in that moment, matching his hot feverish kisses as well as the sweet, gentle ones. We only broke apart to breathe, our chests rising and falling at an equal rapid pace. His lips were slick from our kiss, swollen from the rough encounter. He was beautiful.

The only sound was the infrequent car passing, or the sound of the crickets that had made their homes in the small patches of grass on the side of the sidewalk that housed the trees.

“I want you to come to family”

Read Chapter 5 Here!

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chahnniesroom · 11 months

Text

tenderness | epilogue: jet lag

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 1.3k

chapter warnings: none :)

a/n: i really cannot believe i'm saying this, but here's the last part of tenderness! thank you so so much to everyone who has interacted with this story in any way. i apologise for the fact that sometimes i take a while to reply, but know i treasure each and every comment, reply, tag, and like that i have received. i couldn't have done it without you all!

i am working on two other fics, so if you like my writing, please stay tuned!

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When you had initially heard that there would be a three week break between the Tokyo concerts and the North American leg of the tour, you had been surprised. You knew it was partly due to predetermined schedules, but it had seemed like such a long break between shows.

Now you're more than grateful for the extra time it gave you to rest and recover. Your health has significantly improved in that time. For the first time in weeks you’re no longer exhausted, all your concussion symptoms have disappeared, and your wounds have mostly healed. The stitches are still tender and if you move too quickly or laugh too hard then it pulls at the healing muscle and skin, but you feel comfortable walking around slowly without any pain.

Since your doctor still advised that you avoid carrying anything remotely heavy, all of the boys have been refusing to let you do any housework and spending as much time with you as they can. You would have thought that the constant company would become suffocating, especially with the way they hover any time that you move, but surprisingly you don’t mind. Since you’d been forced to be independent for your whole childhood, it kind of feels nice to be doted on like this.

The eagerness to assist in any physical tasks means that packing for the trip consists of you directing Chan on what you want to bring and the two of you are finished in no time. It’s a relief since somehow neither of you had even started until the evening before you're scheduled to leave.

Once you’re changed for the flight and head out of Chan’s room, Hyunjin and Changbin are already there. Hyunjin is sprawled out on one of the couches with an arm draped over his eyes to block the light while Changbin is rummaging through the cupboards.

“Oh, where’s Jisung?” you ask, not waiting for an answer before you start making your way towards his room. “I’ll go check to see if he’s ready to go.”

You knock on his closed door, then ease it open when you don’t get a reply. Jisung is sitting on the side of the bed, head in his hands. The curtains are drawn which means that he’s shrouded in shadows. His bags are packed and placed near the door, but he makes no effort to move.

“Jisung,” you call. When he doesn’t respond, you soften your tone and try again. “Jisungie.”

He looks up at that, revealing bloodshot eyes and lips that have been bitten raw. It’s obvious that he hasn’t been able to sleep and you mentally kick yourself for not anticipating this. Jisung has always hated airports the most out of all the members and you know that past events have likely worsened any travel related anxiety that he already had.

You step forward and bend over slightly to pat his head, then smooth your hand over so that it rests on his shoulder. He leans into your touch at first, then his eyes widen in realisation.

“Noona, you should be sitting! It’s not good for you to bend like that,” he says, tugging on your arm so that you settle on the bed beside him. His touches are light, as they have been for the past few days, like he’s afraid of hurting you.

“It’s okay, really. The doctors have said that I’ve been healing well and I’ve been cleared for travel,” you reassure him.

“I don’t want to go,” Jisung confesses. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen when we leave.”

“Yonghwan told you guys the plan, right?” You loop your arm into his and lean your head against his shoulder. “They’ve got everything prepared so that there won’t be any fans when we leave. We’re not going to be at Incheon today, we’re taking a private flight, the official schedule that was released shows we’ll be leaving in a couple of days, and there’s going to be enough security that even if there were to be any fans, they wouldn’t be able to come close.”

“I know that they’re doing all that stuff, but it’s not making me feel better. It’s so dumb,” he says in a broken voice. “I’m sorry, noona. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You were the one that got hurt last time, so why am I freaking out?”

“Hey, no. Last time was a scary experience for all of you, even without what happened to me. It’s natural that you’re feeling anxious, I know that I’m a little bit nervous too.”

"I guess," Jisung agrees reluctantly. "I just wish I didn't feel like this."

“It’s hard,” you agree. “But you’re excited for the concerts, right? At least there’s something to look forward to in the next few weeks. I’m finally going to get a chance to see you guys from the crowd instead of backstage!”

“Really?” Jisung seems to perk up at that. “Don’t tell me where you’re going to be, I want to look out for you!”

“They didn’t tell me yet, so I can’t even share if I want to, but I think it’ll be a pretty good seat.”

“Are you going to make a sign? I can help make one with you at the hotel! I know exactly what it should say.” Han pretends to write out a poster. “‘‘Han Jisung is the Best!’ I think it’d be perfect!”

"Hm, I’m not too sure about if I want to be holding a sign, especially one with that on it," you say. You’re partially amused, mostly relieved that he seems to be in a better mood. “But first, we have to get there. Let’s go, I think the car is going to be picking us up soon.”

—

Your flight is scheduled for extremely early in the morning, a purposefully awkward time that serves as an added layer of protection against any fans trying to catch the group’s departure. The sun hasn’t even risen by the time you leave the dorms, but at least there’s not a single person around other than staff or security when you make it to the airport.

The flight is uneventful, although you really appreciate that the private plane means that you don’t have to be concerned about trying to hide your relationship with Chan. The two of you get to sit beside each other which makes it significantly easier to make up for the fact that you spent time packing instead of Charging last night.

You wake up as the plane starts to descend, the changes in pressure causing your ears to pop. You were slightly nervous at the airport this morning, but now your anxious thoughts have come back even worse. Your stomach churns and your heart rate starts to pick up. Logically, you know that everything will be fine, but your body doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

As if reading your mind, Chan reaches out and laces your fingers together even though your palms have gone clammy. His thumb traces steady circles that help to distract your thoughts for a while, but your breathing still hitches when the plane lands. You go stiff when the seatbelt sign blinks off and all the other members start getting ready to leave.

Chan tightens his hand around yours reassuringly. Somehow, it manages to squeeze the tension out of you. It’s not just the gesture or the Charge that makes you feel better. Just his presence is enough to comfort you.

"Hey," he says softly, "No matter what, I'll be here with you."

You know it's true. Even after all that the two of you have been through, even after all of the pain, the tears, the heartache, you trust him.

With Chan by your side you feel safe, protected, cared for.

You feel loved.

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xshiny · 4 months

Text

Shared Struggles prt 1

Trigger Warning! ⚠️

Eating disorder -> not eating for a while resulting to unhealthy body

WIP 💀

Unbeknownst to those who didn’t pay much mind to you, you had been struggling to eat much or anything at all.You thought you were flying under the radar fairly well with this, until Keegan found you and walked over to you, pressing his shoulder to the wall as he leaned to be level with you. “You didn’t come down for dinner,” He said smoothly. He was the least confrontational of personal problems out of all your friends, so it was surprising. “Nor were you there for breakfast.. whys that?"

"I already ate" you shrugged it off, moving past him.

“You didn’t.” Keegan said bluntly. “I looked in the kitchen on my way back from the table.. there wasn’t even a plate put in the sink. You’re a bad liar.”

"I put the dishes away. You're a bad looker" you quickly said, and took another step.

This caught him off guard for a moment, before he pushed himself off the wall and stepped in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

"I'm looking" you blinked, looking at him and stood there in his grasp. You were playing it cool.

He tightened his grip slightly until your view was entirely him. “Do you even realize how thin you’ve gotten? You can practically see your bones through your skin for god’s sake!”

"I'm not skinny, I'm just...not as big as you" you shrug, not even caring about the fact that what he said is true.

He looked at you like you had lost your mind. “Not as big as me?? Dude,” He said, stepping back as he gestured to himself, “You can practically see the bones in your spine! You look like you’re dying!”

"Dying? I'm not dying!" You protest, frowning at him.

“Well you’re damn well starving yourself and that’s a slippery slope to all sorts of issues. Your skin is pale, and your eyes are all bloodshot and sunken. And you don’t have any energy, man! You’re exhausted just by walking!!”

"I need sleep!?" You suggest, and shrug your shoulders again.

“Yeah, that too!” He exclaimed, “But I mean, you have to see what I mean right? You look like if you dropped dead, people wouldn’t question it because they expect it! Your entire skin color is almost blue! You’re a shade of white we’ve never seen! Do you even remember the last time you had a full meal?”

"...No.."

“You can’t even remember?” He looked genuinely hurt. “How long has it been?? The last I remember, you didn’t eat that day either… that was, what, two weeks ago?”

Suddenly you feel dizzy and slump forward a bit, stumbling over your feet. "S'been a while"

Keegan let go of your shoulders as he immediately scooped you up in his arms, holding you close to prevent you from any more stumbling.“Jesus Christ!” He yelled, “You’re about to collapse!”

"Am...not...bouta..." You complained, and your knees gave out, causing you to go dead weight on him.

Keegan made the executive decision to carry you bridal style and immediately went downstairs to take you to the medical unit.He kicked down the door and yelled, “We need help! Anyone?! Come quick!”

Has been worked on ⤵️

When multiple members of the unit rushed in, he finally explained in more detail what was wrong with you, making sure to mention your severe lack of eating. The nurses were incredibly worried, but got to work immediately. It took hours for them to fix any nutrient deficiencies you may have and give you an intravenous injection of potassium to prevent further muscle fatigue.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

A/n: Make sure you lovelies eat!! Take care of yourselves ❤️

Sorry for any inaccurate scenes 😭

And still working on that last scene...will update later...

Update: it's good enough for now 🥲👍 fictional logic save me

Part 2

#keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ #keegan ghosts #keegan x you #keegan russ x you #m4m #m4f

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ay0nha · 1 year

Note

I am on my knees begging for CRUMBS

you disappear and come back with vengeance

please give me crumbs

anything

drafts, WIP, old stuff, anything

I need crumbs

SUMMARY: There were reasons habits quickly morphed into vices, something immoral and wicked. Yet, you were lethal, the definition of torment. Your silhouette alone was enough to send Buggy spiraling.

PAIRING: OPLA!Buggy x f!reader (smuggler)

WORD COUNT: ~500

WARNINGS: hurt Buggy subconsciously seeking out reader for help, canon-typical things, mentions of blood/injury, smoking, sarcasm, two idiots in love, mutual pining that's ignored, slow burn, etc.

A/N: LMAOOO this made me SNORT. Any writer knows apart of the process is disappearing for a chunk and coming back thinking your WIPs write themselves lol. So you don't starve lol, below the cut I'll add what I'm currently working on! Be gentle, she's still forming up plot wise but based of a request for Buggy (OPLA)

FULL THING OUT NOW. FIND HERE.

There were reasons habits quickly morphed into vices, something immoral and wicked. Yet, you were lethal, the definition of torment. Your silhouette alone was enough to send Buggy spiraling.

Each step toward you felt unreliable and fuzzy, making Buggy question if he reattached his limbs correctly. His gut felt twisted with a foreign feeling that he wanted to trap away. He wondered if he buried the feeling deep enough if it would turn to treasure or become forgotten rot.

“Buggy.” Your voice even irritated him. Yet, he found relief in finding you alone. “Third time this month. Careful…I’m starting to get a big head.”

“That sounds like a medical problem…” He mumbled with little enthusiasm and a half-hearted smirk, “...should probably get seen for that.”

“Admitting you care, eh?” You teased. You were preoccupied, cigarette dangling from your lip and bobbing with every word. “What can I help you with?”

The receipts tended to be formidable, but you couldn't help but feel your concentration falter when you were met with uncharacteristic silence. Typically, you were shy of whiplash from an unwarranted insult or backhanded compliment. However, once your eyes landed on Buggy, you only saw deep anger veiling desperation.

“How serious is it?” Your pen was settled beside the book, whatever records you were once concerned with dismissed. Buggy looked awful—his posture gave away his exhaustion and discomfort.

“What? Can’t we skip the part where I say ‘the other guy looks worse’?” His busted lip ticked with dry humor. There were rumors he was in trouble, but that paled compared to the truth you knew about Buggy.

“Depends.” You frowned. “That other guy isn’t stopping by, is he?” If it were true, you’d have to lay low, something you never had time for. “This is why I don’t like your kind.”

“My kind?” Buggy continued unamused. You weren’t more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing to him. You were a smuggler. Plain and simple. It was impossible for something to stay hidden from you for long. “You’re not far off, sweetheart.”

His terms of endearment never held affection, but he seemed to soften this time for some reason—almost pleading between the lines. You held a trained expression, taking a moment of consideration.

Your typical jobs with him were small. Typically, they consisted of information that he could coax out of you for trinkets. He brought the world to you. Other times, you moved things through the shadows to an even darker location.

This was different, you decided.

Stalking toward the clown, you saw how the pain mapped on his body. “You look awful.”

The jester’s bow was fueled by pained sarcasm. Although his abilities helped, Buggy's flesh was still pliable. His jaw was a deep-set purple, contrasting the faded red of his cracked lips. It was hard to distinguish what was paint and what was blood. His eyes were bloodshot with broken blood vessels, and there were gashes littering every place imaginable.

You were surprised he was still standing. You noted how his breath became labored, as if holding onto what he could before he collapsed entirely. But looking between his eyes, you saw the struggle he had deciding what was worth his final breath: business or pleasure.

#q #buggy the clown #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy x reader #buggy x f!reader #buggy angst #buggy one piece #buggy d clown #buggy opla #buggy live action #opla!buggy x reader #opla!buggy x f!reader

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bldhrry · 3 months

Text

A Court of Passion and Daydreams

Chapter Eleven | epiphany Azriel x OC!Reader Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Series Masterlist | General Masterlist

word count: 7.7k

warnings: cursing, smut (18+, minors DNI), blood, violence, death

author's note: sorry this took so long. i've been working and then i had a flare up w my autoimmune disease and then my laptop temporarily broke, but anyway here is chapter eleven. there will be a next chapter and as always lmk what you think!

Rhysand. Celestia called out.

Silence.

Rhysand. She tried again.

What? He finally answered. He sounded tired.

I need two weeks off.

Why?

Don’t worry about it.

He chuckled in her mind, his true form looking at her mischievously.

And don’t come by; I’ll be busy.

Should I ask doing what, or doing who?

Don’t worry about it.

He laughed again, the sound roaring through her mind. Then, his presence was gone and her mind was empty.

She sighed and looked down at Azriel who laid in between her legs, his head on her stomach asleep. She had been mindlessly rubbing his back for the past hour. From the time he had come over to now, they had laid together seven more times and even now as sleep weighed heavily on her body and mind she couldn’t help but fantasize about their next time and the time after that.

Azriel stirred and gripped her waist, shifting and turning his eyes upwards towards hers. His eyes were half open, bloodshot with sleep and he gave her a lazy smile.

“Princess,” he greeted.

She let out a laugh through her nose and ran her fingers through his hair.

He nuzzled his face into her stomach and hummed. “Did you sleep?”

“No,” she sighed and closed her eyes. “I spoke with Rhysand.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. He just laughed.”

Azriel smirked and kissed her stomach. “I’m hungry.”

“I have leftovers in the fridge.” She moved her hands down to his neck and massaged them lightly.

“I am not hungry for that,” he growled slightly and nipped at her naval and moved downwards, kissing the inside of his thighs.

“Oh,” she let out a breathless laugh and spread her legs in both acceptance and anticipation.

He devoured her for an hour until he was satisfied and she knew no other word than his name.

They stayed in her apartment except for the few times they left for food or to get Azriel more clothes. It was a useless endeavor when they were naked for the majority of the time, but the brief pause from their favorite activity was welcomed; they were sore and tired but despite it they couldn’t stop and wouldn’t for some time.

Cassian had whooped when they had entered the House of Wind a few days after the bond had properly tied them together. Their scent was stronger than before and although they had showered together before leaving, they still couldn’t wash it off; it also didn’t help that Azriel had bent her over the bathroom sink after they got out.

“You guys have surely been busy,” Cassian smirked, eyeing Celestia as she waited for Azriel.

Celestia shrugged and leaned against the couch cushions. She was so sore and exhausted.

“Sore?” He laughed and she rolled her eyes, looking towards Azriel’s room.

“If not, I’m sure Azriel wouldn’t mind if I took you,” he sent her a nasty smirk and her retort was at the tip of her tongue when Azriel appeared behind Cassian, Truth Teller at his neck.

“Say it again.” He growled. Nesta had stood up at this point, her own dagger in her hand and Celestia looked at her mate with wide eyes.

Cassian didn’t look phased as he lifted his hands in defeat and chuckled. He didn't mean it; he knew Azriel and Celestia’s pent up energy couldn’t only be expressed sexually, but also physically. He expected Azriel would attack him like Rhysand had, but he hadn’t expected for Azriel to resort to almost killing him.

“You’re a fucking brute.” Celestia sneered and with a slight nod to Azriel, he secured Truth Teller in a strap on his thigh and followed Celestia out.

Cassian’s laugh could be heard behind them as he admired his brother’s defensive and possessive nature. He was happy for him; he was tired of seeing him sulk and yearn for her and was relieved Celestia had let go of her grudge. She seemed happy too, but more at peace than anything. She had been stressed out for the past few years, her feelings around Azriel torn between hatred and love.

When they got back he whipped her around to face him and his face was hard and his lips pressed into a tight line. He searched her face, trying to compose himself; he kept reminding himself that this was the female that he loved and was his mate and would cherish her for the rest of their lives, but another part wanted to remind her of who her mate was and who exactly she begged for.

She ran her hands up his chest and hummed, tracing the length of his broad back. “You can if you want to, you know.” She smirked up at him.

He gave her a puzzled look and she sent an image down the bond of him with a fistful of her hair and her on her knees and then him behind her and then her on top of him, the entire time reassuring him that it would be him and only him until the end of time.

His eyes widened slightly and he gripped her waist, his chest rising and falling heavily. His eyes had blacked out with need and his nostrils were flared, taking in her natural scent and her arousal.

He kissed her soft and slow at first and then deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth and he growled into it. This was his mate and she was his.

She let him take her as he wished, reacting to his touches and groaning into his mouth as he ran his hands up and down her body, kneading her skin. She loved every second he had his hands on her whether it was doing exactly this or playing with her fingers or hair. She thought she would never not crave him and want him near. She would gladly do anything and everything for him.

They had made it to the bed and they made their way up it, their mouths never disconnecting. Their lips were swollen and slightly bleeding from the long bites they had taken. Clothes were discarded soon after and they admired one another. She was his and he was hers and they wouldn’t have it any other way. Nobody else could understand their shared looks and silences and laughs nor could nobody compare to the way they knew each other inside and out and knew what they needed without saying it. They couldn’t imagine being with anyone else; the thought was sickening and they would rather die than perceive anyone else other than with indifference.

He slid in with ease and they both groaned at the contact. She wrapped her legs around him and he moved with confidence and determination, thrusting harder as her moans answered his silent questions. She loved him, she wanted him, she needed him, and nobody else could fuck her this good.

A loud moan and a tightening of her walls announced her arrival and he held her hands beside her head as he continued to pound into her, moaning and groaning and growling into her neck.

Say it,” he demanded. His voice was low and raspy and it made her eyes roll back into her head and she arched against him.

“Oh Gods,” she groaned as she came again. The sheets were wet with her mess.

“Say it, Princess,” he growled, taking her face into his hands.

She marveled at the way his hair moved back and forth on his face and the way the chain she had gotten him tickled her chin and the way his shoulder and arm muscles flexed beside her head as his hands gripped her own and her face. She started to shake the longer she looked at him, both with her impending orgasm and the love she had for him.

He repeated the question and she nodded, lost in his eyes. They were dark with lust, but the gold she admired the most were still there, shining brighter than ever.

She gave him a tired, but wide smile and took her lip in between her teeth. “Yes,” she moaned, drawing her legs farther up and wrapping tighter around him. “I’m yours.”

He growled into her neck, his thrust faltering slightly. “Again.”

“I’m yours, Azriel.”

The knot in her stomach was growing tighter and she bared her teeth. The feeling was so overwhelming and her mind was turning into mush. She ran her nails down his back and his back reacted with the feeling. His thrusts were becoming more sloppy and she moved her hips with his, grazing the vein on his left wing. He moaned and trailed kisses up her jawline until he kissed her mouth. Despite the way he moved in and out with enough force that the bed was hitting the wall and wet skin slapping wet skin was the only sound that could be heard, he kissed her with a quiet passion that shocked her slightly; here was a male that had the ability to tear her to pieces and make her beg for his seed and in the same minute kiss her and hold her with such care that she melted in his touch.

She whimpered in his mouth and the closer she got to her orgasm, the harder he went. She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck and moaned, tilting her head back and biting her bottom lip. He let go of her face, and gripped her hip instead, steadying it as he moved inside of her ensuring she was feeling every inch of him.

She cried out and held his face, looking at him and he nodded, silently answering her own questions. He loved her, he wanted her, he needed her, and nobody else could fuck him this good. His own orgasm was building in him and his wings were twitching and it didn’t help that she kept teasing the sensitive spot on one of them.

“I’m yours.” He said. He was breathless with the exertion, but he never broke her gaze.

She whined at him and bucked her hips again. “Again,” she groaned.

“I’m yours, Celestia.”

They came together so loud that the walls shook and they were sure their cries and declarations of their love and commitment could be heard across Velaris. He kept moving inside of her, until he had nothing else to give and his vision was blurry and she could do nothing more than whimper and whine and shake beneath him.

He collapsed on top of her, holding the back of her neck and placing small kisses to her collarbone. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, rubbing his spine. They didn’t speak for minutes instead just savoring and cementing the memory into their minds.

They attended the Court dinner as expected and made sure to shower and keep their hands off each other. It was difficult when Azriel wore his siphons and his shirt stuck to his skin and muscles.

She drank in the male, her mate, and groaned, throwing her head back. “Do we have to go?” She was kneeling in front of him.

“Yes,” he laughed while tying his shoes. “We missed last week.”

“I know,” she whined, “but I’m sure it won’t be a big deal. They’ll tell us later.” Her hands trailed up his thighs and gave him a sly grin.

He wanted her too. He wanted nothing more than to lean back on the couch and let her take his pants and underwear off and hold his cock in her hands and watch as she swallowed him.

He shook his head and gripped his knees. Instead of caving to his instincts, he gave her a delicate kiss to her forehead and stood up. She stayed on her knees, straightening her back and looking up at him with lust filled eyes and parted lips. He lifted her chin slightly and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Her eyes widened slightly and she looked hopeful that he would stuff her mouth, but instead he stepped around her and grabbed their coats. She turned and looked at him, pouting slightly, and he grinded his teeth. Fucking Vixen.

She got up with a huff and snatched her coat from him, walking past him with her head held high. He chuckled and grabbed her by her belt loop, pulling her to his chest. He pressed a kiss to her temple and mumbled a ‘later’ against it. She grinned and they walked to the Manor hand in hand.

“Are you sure?” Celestia asked. She felt like she had gotten the wind knocked out of her. There was no way.

Rhysand nodded grimly and folded his hands.

“He’s out of his fucking mind.” She leaned back in her seat and pushed her plate away.

“If he has the cauldron then it’s over,” Amren muttered. “The magic that thing yields is unlike anything in the entire world. Nobody can stop it.”

Everyone looked down, feeling defeated.

“We have to get it back,” Feyre announced. “We get the pieces before him then we can hide it.”

“He hasn’t made any movements since the attack on the Summer Court; my bet is that he already has it.” Azriel had his arms crossed and his shadows were twirling around him and she could hear their whispers.

“Alright,” Feyre nodded. “Then we go and get it.”

Everyone looked at each other and there was a silent agreement among them all; this was a suicide mission.

The rest of the dinner was spent planning the mission. They’d fly to Hybern’s castle and winnow to the surrounding forest and walk from there. They would use Feyre, Nesta, and Elain’s magic to find the cauldron and Amren would help with the spell while Celestia guarded the group and the other part of the group would patrol behind for anyone passing by.

It was a simple plan, but with a million different variables and ways it could go wrong.

As Azriel and Celestia prepared for bed she was deep in thought, not even hearing Azriel as he called out to her.

“Celestia,” he nearly shouted and she jumped and looked up at him and he smiled at her. “I said, what are you thinking about?”

She pursued her lips and sighed. “If we get caught, we are all going to die.”

He was startled at her statement, but he knew she was right.

“I killed his son in the worst way possible and then threw his fucking head at him.” There were tears in her eyes. “He sees me and he’ll either kill me, or you, or…” she trailed off and she clutched at her chest.

He walked around the bed towards her side and pulled her to him, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “I know.” He wasn’t going to lie to her and say that it wasn’t going to happen because it most likely would if they were caught.

She cried into his chest. She was paralyzed with fear. It had never happened before; she was always ready to face the enemy and complete any mission, but this was more than a simple mission. They were going to steal the cauldron under blind circumstances and anything could happen. They didn’t know where it was, or if it was guarded, or if the castle would be guarded. The amount of possible outcomes that swirled in her mind was overwhelming and she was being consumed by panic.

Azriel just held her and gently swayed them back and forth, squeezing her tight.

She pulled back and looked at him. “If something happens to me, don’t fight.” She was serious.

Azriel would never not fight for her, but he just nodded and kissed her forehead, letting his lips stay there.

They got in bed together and he held her, his own worries causing him to squeeze her tightly and shed quiet tears.

They flew to Hybern’s in silence. Azriel held Lucien, Celestia held Elain, Cassian held Nesta, and Rhysand held Amren as they flew. Celestia couldn’t help but glance at Azriel every now and then. His face was hard and his siphons gleamed with straight power. In the night sky, her green siphons were a dark emerald and as the adrenaline coursed through her body her siphons were hot against her fighting leathers.

Azriel looked at Celestia too. She looked determined, but underneath it all he could see the worry in her eyes and brows. Every few miles she would let out a deep breath and he could feel desperation through the bond. She needed this to go exactly to plan otherwise her friends, family, and mate were at risk. She didn’t care what happened to her, but they needed to make it out.

As they saw the castle lights on the horizon, Lucien and Feyre winnowed everyone to the ground and there they began their trek to the castle. They hid their tracks and silenced their footsteps and nobody dared to speak a word during the 5 mile walk. Azriel and Celestia held hands on the way and they took turns sending reassurement and love through the bond.

When they got to the bridge to the castle, Cassian and Azriel led the way and took out the soldiers that were blocking the gates and castle doors. Celestia and Rhysand trailed closely behind, swords and daggers ready. The rest of the group trailed farther behind with Lucien and Feyre leading Nesta and Elain and Amren.

The group of warriors were quiet as soldiers fell at their feet, their necks and throats snapped and slashed and once they had cleared the foyer they all stopped and looked at the Archeron sisters. They all had been Made and had an unnatural connection to the cauldron. They would be able to feel it unlike the rest of the group and be able to find it and hopefully coax it to move with the spell.

Celestia gave Azriel a big kiss, holding his face in her hands. When she broke away she stared into his eyes and he knew what she was trying to say. Her eyes said it all: I love you, I’ll see you later, be safe. Azriel nodded and rested his forehead against hers and they silently parted.

Celestia led the way, listening to the Sister’s directions. Although she was more powerful than Rhysand, she couldn’t feel the cauldron. Not that she wanted to, but she found it interesting that different types of magic existed and it was able to do different things.

They all felt the cauldron before they saw it. The air seemed to vibrate and grow thick around them and she could barely hear as the sister’s told them which room it was in. The four females walked in and gasped; the blood in their veins were screaming and they could barely breathe and before them sat the cauldron. It was a legitimate cauldron with four legs and they could see smoke coming from the top and hear its insides bubble and simmer.

“Hurry and do your thing.” Celestia told everyone and turned to face the door.

Amren and the sisters made their way to the cauldron and opened the book. They needed to get it out of here before anyone noticed the shift in power within the castle and that it was gone. She could hear them talk behind her, reciting the book, and the way the cauldron groaned as they spoke and held on to its brim, their powers flowing to the cauldron and the cauldron giving back. She heard the metal groan again and she looked back and they had been able to shift it a few feet.

Celestia heard footsteps and they were running. She looked back at the females one last time and made her way to the door, leaning against it with her sword raised. It swung open and she grabbed the offender and slammed them against the door, but before she could strike them she recognized the face.

It was Cassian.

“What are you-”

“We have to leave. They need to hurry.”

They both looked at the females and they were dragging it.

“Hurry,” Celestia hissed, stalking towards the group.

“We’re trying,” Amren shot her a glare. “It’s not cooperating.”

“Azriel and Rhysand and Lucien are holding off the guards, but we need to go now.” Cassian gave them all an exacerbated look.

“Just leave it.” Celestia clicked her tongue. “It’s not worth it.” She was beginning to panic.

“No,” Feyre cried. Her nose was bleeding and sweat had plastered her hair to her forehead. “We won’t get another opportunity.”

“Yes we will,” Cassian kept looking between the group and the door and he went for Nesta and tried to remove her grip from the cauldron but he was immediately thrown back, the cauldron refusing for its host to leave.

“Cassian, we’ll leave them in here and guard the door from the outside. It’s the only way.” The General just nodded and they ran to the door, shutting it behind them.

She could see Azriel’s blue power and Lucien’s fire highlight and heat up the hallway. The two decided to leave them be and hold their own, going after the guards that were coming for them and the females beyond the door.

Celestia and Cassian fought with their backs almost touching ensuring that nobody would be able to surprise them. She grimaced at the sound of swords clashing and males screaming as they died; everyone could hear and more guards would be coming. The door opened and the sisters and Amren were dragging the cauldron through and Celestia and Cassian flanked their sides, ready for another assault. The other males were making their way towards them and made a semi circle around the females. They couldn't winnow out for there were wards on the castle, but once they were outside they could do it.

Celestia looked from the cauldron down the hallway that would lead them to the gates, but it was too far and they were too slow. There were three turns, one left and two rights, which would slow them down even more.

“We have to fucking leave it,” she was becoming desperate. No more guards had come and she knew whatever was coming would be worse than a couple foot soldiers.

“We’ll make it,” Nesta said. Her own nose was bleeding and her arms were shaking.

“Nobody else has come for minutes. Please we need to go.” She wanted to cry. This wasn't worth dying over; they would find another opportunity to steal it or they would find a spell to stop it entirely.

“Leaving so soon Celestia?” A familiar voice asked and she stiffened.

The group turned slowly and at the end of the hallway, with 30 soldiers behind him, stood the King of Hybern.

They were dragged to the throne room, the entire group fighting. A chorus of ‘get the fuck off of me' and ‘let me go’ and ‘I’ll fucking kill you’ echoing throughout the long hallways.

The throne room was huge with indigo banners flanking the entry and throne and the chandelier was ivory with a design that mimicked bones. The throne was made of obsidian and had jagged pieces of amethyst decorating the armrest and back.

They were dumped 15 feet from the steps leading up to the throne and much to everyone's disbelief, Azriel was dragged past them, towards the throne.

“No!” Celestia screamed and ran after the guard who held him, but was knocked down. The King had a shield separating them.

Azriel was fighting against the guard and the guard stumbled with each blow to his legs and chest but with a slight flick of his wrist, the King bounded his hands. Azriel’s shadows were useless and so were everyone else’s powers; the wards and spells around the castle limited their power and the majority of the group had depleted what they could use.

Azriel was dumped at the bottom of the steps and the King sat on his throne giving Celestia a grin. Her stomach was in knots as she looked between Azriel and the King and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She placed her hands on the shield and stared at them both with pleading eyes. The group stood behind her in fighting stances.

“I knew I recognized that voice,” the King started. “It’s a pleasure to see you again; I've been waiting for this moment for centuries.

Celestia just glared at him.

“Do you remember the last time we saw each other?”

She did. It was a gloomy day and it was raining heavily. Hybern’s entire army and the rest of Prythian and the human armies had met; this would be the final battle. Celestia, Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand were on the front lines leading their own legions. Celestia had a heavy sack at her side and as Hybern marched forward she took out its content and threw it at him. Everyone gasped as it rolled and stopped at his feet. The face that was staring up at him was his son. Hybern was so consumed with rage he told his entire army to attack which was a fatal mistake; none of his soldiers knew where to go and who to attack and the coordinated armies on the other side were able to pick them off one by one until they surrendered.

Celestia said nothing but continued to glare at him, promising death.

“I do,” he sighed. “You threw my son’s head at me.” He paused and looked between her and Azriel and she sucked in a breath.

“I had hoped you had a son by now so I could make it a son for a son, but,” he shrugged, “I guess a mate will do.”

With a flick of his wrist he threw Azriel across the room.

She screamed and began to pound on the shield. The rest of the group were running up and down it, trying to find weak spots and Feyre was trying to decode the wards but she couldn't focus. All she could see was Azriel's body plummeting onto the stone floor.

The group of subjects in the room gasped and took a step back watching the assault and hearing Celestia’s scream. It was guttural and shook the castle walls and she was pounding her fists on the shield.

“Please,” she sobbed. “Please stop!” She was screaming again. “I killed him! Take me instead.”

The King stopped and Azriel let out a cough, spewing blood and she let out a sob. The King looked at her for a moment, pure hatred in his eyes.

“I don't want you.” He sneered. “I want you to suffer like I did when you took my son from me. I want you to watch your mate die and then I'll kill you and your pathetic family.” The King pressed an invisible force against Azriel's stomach and the room heard his ribs breaking.

Celestia choked out a sob and fell to her knees. She could feel his pain through the bond and she felt nauseous. Azriel kept his eyes on her the entire time, trying to smile and tell her it's okay, but she kept crying and screaming, begging for his release.

It’s not okay. I'll get you out I promise. Hold on. She sent reassurement through the bond but she could barely feel it. All she could feel were flickers of flames and she started to scream again.

The group found no weaknesses and Feyre knew that breaking the spells would take too long and Azriel didn't have the time to spare.

Celestia pounded on the shield and rammed her body into it, trying to break in but it wouldn't budge.

“Azriel!” She screamed and while the King lifted his body and threw him on the floor again, he looked at her. His face was bloody and broken and his eyes were tired and defeated. “Azriel please!” She cried out. “I’m sorry.”

She was hyperventilating. She was sorry for more than just what was happening now. She was sorry for not seeing him before, she was sorry for ignoring his love, she was sorry for treating him badly. Had she known this was their ending she would've forgave him a long time ago and cherished the time they did have together. She was selfish and stupid and she was becoming angry with herself and the King. He would die for this just like his fucking son.

She could feel the bond breaking. Its fragments were sharp and jagged and it sliced her gut and she desperately tried to grab onto it and put it back together but there were too many pieces. It kept breaking and she could feel his impending death. She saw his shadows rest around his body like a blanket, attempting to soften the blows, but it was no use.

The King kept throwing Azriel on the ground and by this point his body had gone limp and Celestia screamed. No, no, no, no, no.

“You piece of fucking shit!” She screamed, gripping the shield and trying to force her hand through. “I will fucking kill you!”

She heard the King chuckle and he let Azriel go. His breathing was shallow but at least he was still breathing.

Hold on. Please hold on. She sent through the remnants of the bond.

The King walked down the steps, savoring her disheveled appearance. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had tears and snot covering her face. This was the same look he had when he learned of his son’s murder and now it was her turn to feel his anguish.

Celestia watched as he reached down to Azriel and pulled him to knees by his hair. Celestia’s eyes widened and she looked at him.

I love you. I'm sorry.

Azriel looked at her too, his eyes soft and half opened. He was tired and he felt cold. He couldn't feel his body anymore.

He heard Celestia scream and she was looking above him now and from the corner of his eye he could see a dagger.

“No!” She screamed and she pounded on the shield again. “Don't do it! Please!” She was sobbing and the group could do nothing but stare between the three.

“Azriel!” She cried out. “Azriel, I love you! I’m sorry.” Her breathing was ragged and her fists were numb with pain and her throat was sore but she didn't stop. She begged and pleaded with the King; she said everything in the book of apologies to make him stop and take her instead. She would do anything in the world to swap places. She would do anything in the world to take his pain away.

Azriel gave her a small nod, telling her that he loved her and there was nothing to be sorry for. He could feel her side of the bond and it was hot with rage and he wished it could give him strength to fight but he was so tired and his eyes and body felt heavy.

He closed his eyes and he heard her scream again.

“Don't do this! I’m begging you!” She was throwing herself against the shield. The damn thing had to break at some point. “Oh gods please! Azriel! Look at me!”

He did, his eyes barely opened but he could make her figure out in front of him, her hands on the shield. Her eyes looked crazed but she hadn't given up. She would get to him somehow.

He could barely breath and he could taste blood and feel his lungs start to shudder with the effort of expanding. His head hurt as the King tightened the grip on his hair and he felt himself be raised a little higher on his knees, his back straightening.

Celestia screamed and fell to her knees as the King cut Azriel’s throat.

The King threw Azriel on the floor and a smack could be heard as his head connected with the floor. A pool of blood formed around him and she kept screaming, her eyes fixed on his body. It was so lifeless and limp and she put her forehead against the shield and sobbed.

“No, no, no,” she cried out. This couldn't be. This couldn't be their ending. She had just gotten him back. The bond had broken entirely and the pieces were cutting her open. She didn't bother to grab them. There was nothing to attach them to; the part of her that existed for him was gone.

“You're going to die, you piece of shit.” She snarled and stood up, her fists shaking at her sides. “You hear that?” She yelled, kicking the shield. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

She grabbed her hair and looked at the shield. She was going to tear it down.

The King was making his way back to his throne and she knew what was coming next so she needed to act quickly. She ran to Feyre and grabbed her by the shoulders and she looked dazed, her mouth agape and she was staring at Azriel.

The entire group was staring at him and they had all been crying, Cassian and Rhysand more. That was his brother and he had just died.

“Feyre look at me!” Feyre’s eyes snapped to hers.

“Celestia,” she choked out. “I’m-”

“Shut up. We don't have time.”

Feyre gave her a puzzled look.

“Break the wards. You can do it now. I’ll help.”

She began to say something, maybe protest or apologize for her loss but Celestia couldn't hear it. This wasn't over.

“I’ll help you, but just fucking do it.”

Celestia walked away. She had to do it now. She hadn't used any of her powers so she had enough to break the shield and tear the King apart and turn his entire court into ashes.

She walked back to where she was standing and balled her hands into a fist and closed her eyes. She thought of Azriel and his bright smile and his laugh that sounded like a symphony; she thought of the way he held her and kissed her and told her she was beautiful; she thought of the way the King had beaten him black and blue; she thought of the way his body looked now, so bloody and bruised and limp; and she thought of the way she was going to kill the King.

The room gasped and stepped away from her as her power flowed around her, circling and spreading out at her feet. Thunder shook the castle and the King looked startled as she looked at him with reptilian eyes. He placed his hand on his chest and gripped the throne, leaning against it, as her body began to grow and her bones expanded and she turned into her beast form, her eyes never leaving his.

The dragon roared inside the room, deafening everybody. She didn't care. Her sole purpose was getting her mate back.

With a look to Feyre who was already in a trance trying to dismantle the spells, she set the shield on fire. Her fire was green like her siphons and it was raw, unfiltered power. She could make a hole as Feyre weakened the wards and she would be able to burst through. That was the plan at least.

Feyre pushed into her mind the spells she was using to weaken the wards and Celestia translated that into her body and out into her fire. She wasn't letting up. The room was growing hot and everyone was sweating, but she kept going. She growled and roared, and set the shield ablaze again and she could see smoke billowing out the other side. It was working.

She stepped closer to the shield, the fire intensifying and when she saw Feyre drop to the floor with exhaustion and fire seeping to the other side, she nudged her head through the hole and the shield shattered into a million glass pieces just like the bond had.

She didn’t bother with the King, not yet at least. She stepped towards Azriel’s body, the entire room shaking with each step. If he wasn’t so bloody, she would’ve thought he was sleeping. His body was on its side and one arm was underneath him, and his other was draped across his waist. She bent down, her wings covering him and nudged him softly. It was a futile move, she knew there would be no pulse, but she checked anyway. She let out a small whine as she nudged him again so he was laying on his back and still there was no acknowledgment on his part. She sniffed him, her horns brushing against the floor and she whined again.

Wake up. She sent the thought to nobody in particular.

Wake up. She thought again. She lightly nipped his side but there was no real time response.

She let out a small roar; a roar of pain and anguish and disbelief.

The room didn’t move as she examined his body. The court’s subjects held their breath in anticipation of what she would do next and her own court watched through broken sobs and cries for their lost friend. They cried for Celestia who continued to try and rouse him through small whimpers that were both human and animal like. She was fighting an endless battle; he would not wake.

A noise made Celestia stop and raise her head, smoke flowing from her nostrils, and she saw that the King had stumbled trying to hide behind the throne. Her reptilian eyes narrowed on him and she cocked her head to the side, emitting a deep growl. This was the male she needed the most now. The male whose blood would soon coat the room for what he had taken from her.

She took a step towards him and he took a step backwards, his back hitting the wall and she chuckled, her wings flaring slightly. He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him and she didn’t want to. She wanted revenge, not his pathetic apologies and pleas for his life to be spared.

As he cowered against the wall, she roared in his face and usually the sound would be beast-like, but her own voice came through screaming and roaring all the same. She stopped and inched her head towards him so they were face to face and she could’ve sworn his pants became wet and she gave him a grin, showing each of her razor sharp teeth.

She panted in his face, showing him the fire that existed within her and that would soon tear this entire place apart. He was crying but she felt nothing for him. She had killed before and she would do it again.

His death was quick but gruesome as she leapt towards him, putting half of his body in her mouth and after doing so she bit down and shook her head, the other half flying across the room and hitting the wall. The remaining half of him was spat out towards his subjects and they scrambled away from it, screaming in horror.

Her own court screamed and backed away; the males covering the females. Everyone in the room shrank to their knees as Celestia roared again in both victory and grief and the glass windows broke from the noise. When she was done she looked around the room, her head twitching side to side like a bird, her eyes analyzing every face that she would soon turn to ash.

She looked at Rhysand, the remaining mortal part of her recognizing her brother and somehow he knew what she was about to do and he gave her a nod; he would do the same if it had been Feyre and he almost did when she had died all those years ago. Rhysand was quick to hold everyone and shelter them with his wings and shield as Celestia roared again, spewing green fire throughout the room, coating every wall, banner, rug, and people in it. The subjects screamed but the sound was quick to die out as she kept going, spraying it side to side. When she was satisfied, she stood up straighter and flapped her wings, screeching.

She fell back on her feet, her talons scraping the floor and she turned back to Azriel whose body remained untouched. The shield she had placed around him disappeared and as she made her way towards him, her power covered her entirely as she transformed back into her High Fae form. She dropped to her knees beside him and cried, bringing him to her chest and burying her head into it.

She didn’t stop crying and while the Inner Court tried to get to her, she had shielded herself again, allowing her and Azriel to have one last moment alone. He smelled like death and the fact made her scream up towards the sky. She needed to take him in one more time; she needed to remember him for how and who he was before this. Her breathing was ragged when she placed him back on the ground and began to wipe the blood and hair from his face. His face was broken to the point of being unrecognizable and it made her bawl, the sound so broken it could’ve been mistaken for her being the one who was being beat.

She placed her hands on his chest and peered at his face and then the gash in his neck and she gripped his blood soaked shirt. No, this couldn’t be. This couldn’t be their ending. He was supposed to be here for the rest of her life. But here they sat, her still alive and him dead.

His shadows swirled around her; they were slow and they danced on her hands as she clutched his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she said to them. They wrapped around her neck and hair, and they hummed. They were warm against her skin and she leaned against them, closing her eyes.

She would get him back and she knew how.

Fae had the abilities to stop wounds and heal them and she could do the same. She could fix every broken bone and close every gash in his body and make him whole again. She would restore the beat in his heart and fill his lungs with air.

She unclenched her hands and laid them flat on his chest and took a deep breath. Her power began to flow around her as it had before, but this time it was slow and quiet and focused. It drifted to Azriel and entered through his nose and traveled through his halted bloodstream, taking note of everything it needed to work on.

She never took her eyes off of Azriel’s face. She kept her breathing even and calm as she let more power flow out of her and into Azriel and with each gash that was closed, one would appear on her body. She bared her teeth at the pain, but kept her composure.

Rhysand’s face went pale with the realization and she could feel him pound on her shield.

“Celestia!” He roared. “Don’t do this!” He was becoming frantic. His own power couldn’t break hers for it just wasn’t strong enough. He cursed and looked at Feyre but breaking the castle’s wards had taken everything in her and she wouldn’t be able to help.

“Is she…?” Cassian trailed off, his eyes wide with shock.

“Yes.” Rhysand replied, his chest heaving up and down.

His sister was going to die.

The fact didn’t scare Celestia as she continued mending Azriel’s body. She had made peace with it the moment she decided to break the castle’s wards and go after the King. She had made peace with dying for Azriel during the Great War and would gladly made peace with it now. He was the love of her life, her beautiful beloved ghost, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him not being here even if it meant that she wouldn’t be.

Azriel’s shoulder popped back into place and hers dislocated, but she didn’t falter. She kept her hand heavy on his chest and kept breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Every bone that was breaking in her body was excruciating and she groaned as her head began to pound with a concussion and the bone in her leg popped out.

Keep going. Don’t stop.

So she didn’t. Her ribs punctured her lungs and she began to choke on her blood, but she kept her eyes on Azriel whose face was becoming recognizable. His jaw was back in place and his nose was straight again. He looked so beautiful.

She whined as her collarbone was shattered and the more damage she sustained, the less he had on his body and had it not been for the blood building in her chest, she would’ve sighed in relief. It was working and it wouldn’t be long now that he would be alive again. She just needed to hold on until it happened.

She gasped and slipped from her knees to resting on one leg as her femur broke and she was beginning to cry. The pain was unbearable and her vision was becoming blurry and she was growing tired. But she was down to the last wound and as the gash in Azriel’s throat began to close, a gash in Celestia’s throat began to appear, making her sputter and spit out blood. She pressed her hands on his chest even harder now, determined to make it. A slit in her throat wasn’t going to stop her from bringing him back. It had always been her mission in life to protect and care for him even if it meant dying.

She looked up to the sky, her eyes closed, tears mixing with blood and she prayed to the Mother. Give me strength. Let him live and be happy. Give him another mate for he deserves to be happy and feel loved. Give me strength to bring him back.

And as Azriel’s throat closed and his chest rose with a breath and then another and then his heart fluttered with one beat and then another, Celestia’s own throat was cut from end to end and she let out a final breath, her heart stopping and she fell beside him.

Celestia, Princess of the Night Court, Lieutenant General to the High Lord, the first Illyrian female to win the Blood Rite and lead a legion, and the Killer of Sons died in the former King of Hybern’s throne room for Azriel, the Spymaster and Shadowsinger, her beloved ghost, the love of her life, and mate.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel x female!reader #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel x fem reader #c writes!

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

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Hello Cat, I have been stalking your blogs for about a year now. Your writing is impeccable and I hope to be as amazing as you are some day.

Anyways, I have a request for a possessive Hero getting jealous over supervillain being creepily touchy. But villain is oblivious to it all. H

If you do this, thanks! ❤️

All it took was one news report.

The hero had wasted their evening on the couch, trying to get as much takeout into their stomach as possible, not even paying much attention.

It didn't really bother them to see themselves on TV, however when they announced "exclusive footage" showing the villain, their interest was piqued. Usually, they got to footage like that before the reporters did, so they were more than pissed when they saw the "questionable relationship drama" between the villain and the supervillain on screen.

The supervillain's hands had grabbed into the villain's flesh easily, not even realising when the other had flinched. Obviously, the reporters had speculated about an undeniable sexual relationship, hinting at all kinds of...preferences.

Of course, that had only put more salt into the hero's wound. They had been boiling for over a week.

And now, the hero couldn't even lift their head to look at the villain.

"Ready to give up?" the villain asked, out of breath. They looked horribly exhausted, had looked like that for over two weeks and they were still getting up and still pretending to fight the hero.

"You're injured. This would be a quick fight if I took it seriously," the hero replied and, unfortunately, their stomach was burning. "Let's call it a day."

"No way."

The hero turned around, eyes bloodshot, watching their enemy carefully. And nothing, absolutely nothing could fight the demons in their head that imagined the supervillain's fingers digging into them. God, the hero had lost already, hadn't they?

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the villain asked, their voice closer to a whisper than anything else. Frankly, the hero didn't know. They couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. Whenever they thought about the villain, the supervillain appeared right behind them.

Such a wicked demon infesting their dreams and turning them into nightmares. Sometimes they went too far, showing the other two kissing.

The worst thing was that the villain seemed to enjoy that. Every touch and every kiss. The hero knew, hoped, that wasn't the case. Hoped the villain would end this.

"Do you like them?" the hero asked quietly.

"What?"

"The supervillain. Are they good to you?"

"They're my boss. Wait, are you talking about the footage they released?" the villain asked. Now, they seemed uneasy, unfocused, panicking, somehow.

"Yeah. Is it consensual?"

The villain didn't say anything for a long time and that was enough of an answer for the hero. They had sworn to never kill a human being but this time, they felt like they could make an exception. Poison, maybe? A fight? The hero wasn't sure what was appropriate enough for someone like that, what they deserved.

Poison seemed to be too nice and a fight would exhaust the hero-

"...I guess not saying 'no' is a yes for them. They never do...things that go too far but they also don't really stop. I mean, how on earth am I supposed to say no to my boss? I'll get fired or killed if I do." The hero looked at them, looked at the exhaustion written into their features and the hero was fully aware of their own feelings now.

"Can I get your permission to take care of this?" they asked, still staring at the villain.

"What do you mean?"

"Will you allow me to kill them?"

Again, the villain was quiet. But despite the hero's slowly developing bloodlust, they thought they could see hope light up in the villain's eyes.

"You're free to kill whomever you want to kill," they said finally.

And even though that was a pretty forward statement, probably neither expected the hero to show up at the villain's doorstep, covered in blood and gore a few hours later.

#damn dont be so nice to me jesus #its not that hard to be better than me luv #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #heroxvillain #hero x villain #request #an answer for an ask

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xoxoavenger · 9 months

Text

Lost It All

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N had it all, if only for a couple hours

word count: 1877

warnings: lots of angst no comfort

12 Days of Christmas masterlist masterlist

"Oh my God," Y/N groaned, leaning back in her chair and tilting her head back dramatically.

"Y/N," Steve starts, but it's no use. Her hands are over her eyes and Steve knows he's already fucked.

"Steve, I am so close to fighting you." She whispers. She's exhausted, having not slept much during the mission, and she couldn't sleep on the way home, overtired in a way that she knew only one person could help.

"I know. We're almost done," he tries to soothe, but he knows it's no use.

"No, we aren't." She mutters, head coming back down to stare at him. "You know as soon as he figures out I'm here he's gonna knock you out and take me anyway. Just jot down your notes and I can leave." Her eyes were bloodshot, sloping down and slightly wet from her frustrated tears. She was clearly exhausted, and if it wasn't protocol he wouldn't have forced her to debrief with him now.

"Please tell me you wrote everything down." He had told her once that if she wrote everything down everyday and gave him the notes, he would keep their debriefs, well, brief.

"I thought you'd never ask." She smirked as she whipped out the journal, smacking it on the desk. "I marked this one with a receipt for the last coffee I was able to get before I left." She winked and Steve sighed as he looked down at the thick book, which looked like it had been through hell.

"Is that blood?" He asked, looking at the stain on the cover.

"You're the one who wanted me to keep a detailed account." She shrugged as she slapped her hands down n the table pushing herself to stand.

"What, did you use it to hit someone?" He called after her as she walked out of the room. She didn't respond, but Steve heard her squeal and turned to see Bucky picking her up around the waist, her arms wrapped around his neck and her head buried in his shoulder. Neither of them looked back at him as Bucky walked to their room, still holding her close.

"Did you sleep at all when you were gone?" Bucky asked as they lay in the huge bathtub, Y/N's back against Bucky's front, who was doing all the work of washing her up before bed. His thumb was rubbing under her eyes, where she was sure there were deep bags. She sunk against his shoulder even more, keeping her eyelids closed and rubbing his knee comfortingly.

"Do I ever?" She smiled slightly, but it made Bucky upset.

"I wish you would." He didn't like thinking about how exhausted she must have been while fighting off multiple men. They had talked in length about this, about the fact that Y/N could barely sleep on her own, let alone alone on a mission, but nothing they tried helped. The closest they'd gotten was calling every night, but with their busy schedules it just wasn't feasible. Besides, she used the night to think, sometimes sneak up on targets, and calling Bucky didn't help her think at all.

"Me too." She muttered, sighing as Bucky ran a fancy soap bar up and down her body, the warm water paired with his touch making her relax even more somehow.

"Don't fall asleep on me now." He gently nudged her, knowing that she would hate him and herself if she fell asleep in the tub, since Bucky would have to wake her up to get out.

"'M not." She muttered, head lolling to the side - a telltale sign she was basically out.

"Come on." He helped her up as she groaned, pulling a towel off of the warmer and wrapping it around her before cleaning up the bathroom quickly. He dried off quickly and pulled on briefs as he watched Y/N towel herself off and flop onto the bed, butt-naked and practically snoring.

Bucky chuckled as he grabbed clothes for her, dressing her like a doll and smiling when she reached out on the bed, trying to find his pillow. She had forgotten that she had taken his pillow on the mission, so it now was in the washer with everything from her bag.

He turned off the light before walking over to the bed, using the light from the window to guide him to the covers. He often cursed New York City for being so bright all the time, even when the sun was on the other side of the earth. It lit Y/N's sleeping body, however, so maybe it wasn't so bad.

"I missed you." He whispered as he brought her body close to his, finally being able to breathe now that she was in his arms. His head was on her pillow, just as it had been every night for the past week, and she was curled into him, his chest her pillow.

The truth was, he didn't sleep when Y/N was gone either.

Bucky was barely awake when she spoke.

"Do you wanna get married?" Y/N was staring at him, head tilted up and hand on his heart. He feared she could feel it skip a beat.

"What?" He finally said after what he knew was too long. The silence was honestly confusion on his end, because he had just woken up and didn't expect that. It had to be early in the morning, the sun barely risen, and he was sure she hadn't been awake for long either.

"I was just wondering." She looked down, starting to shrink away from him. He definitely didn't want that, so he tightened his arm around her and tried to gather his thoughts.

"I didn't mean to sound like that." He told her, one hand going to her chin to tilt her head up and let him look at her. "You just caught me off guard." He couldn't read her, but it was early in the morning, and his brain clearly was not working.

"I know you don't sleep either." Everything about this conversation was surprising Bucky. She didn't need to specify what she meant, because they both know she was talking about how when she went on missions, as well as when he went on missions. "Steve told me." Bucky looked away, caught.

"Of course he did." The little bastard. He was the only one that was able to tell that Bucky didn't sleep at all when he was away from Y/N, when they weren't in the same bed.

Suddenly, he was starting to see where the two ideas were connecting.

"I think getting married is the best idea you've ever had." He turned back to her, watching her eyes widen and feeling his chest expand with love.

"Are you being serious?" She asked, and instead of responding Bucky shifted to be on top of her, bringing her lips to his.

"I've never been more serious." Before he had even finished she squealed, face lit up in joy and full of love, the most love Bucky had ever felt.

"I love you so much." She whispered, letting him bring him in and kiss her. His hand was on her lower back and she was practically on top of him.

"I love you more." Bucky couldn't believe this was his wife. This was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

"That's not possible." She muttered, and he flipped her over to show her just how possible it was.

They had a deal. They didn't talk during missions. They acted like the other didn't even exist, because otherwise they would tear the mission down to save the other. They couldn't compromise everyone else. Except, everyone else was actually only Sam this time around.

This mission went worse than expected.

Y/N, Bucky, and Sam were behind a large wall outside the workshop they were supposed to infiltrate, hiding from the couple of agents they had yet to take out. There were too many of them. They had been grossly unprepared for this, not enough of them and unable to call for back up. They were trapped.

"When I give the signal, you get the fuck out of here." Bucky was talking straight to Sam, who nodded. Y/N was in between them, but they were talking over her head.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She asked, looking between the two. Neither of them paid any attention to her.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, ignoring Y/N. Bucky nodded once, then kissed Y/N on the forehead and ran out the of cover before she could say anything. Shocked, she went to follow him, but Sam grabbed her. She felt like she was watching a movie on her phone, or playing a game she couldn't control.

"No, wait," She started, but Sam had a hand over her mouth. She was pulled back against him, barely able to breathe, much less yell out. Her heart was in her throat, making her want to throw up. What was Bucky doing?

"It's me you want." Bucky started from far away, and Y/N's eyes widened. He was giving himself up to the Hydra agents. He was giving himself back to the Winter Solider.

Y/N thrashed against Sam, who was keeping her from giving up their position. Tears flooded down her cheeks as she hit her fists against him, trying to claw his hand, but he was stronger than her. She felt weak, helpless, not unlike how she imagined Bucky felt when he was brainwashed.

"Take the asset." She heard someone say, and Y/N's heart broke. Her tears were falling onto Sam's hand as she went limp.

"We're going," He whispered in her ear, but she shook her head. She wouldn't leave Bucky, she couldn't leave him. They were getting married. They were supposed to be together forever. He was supposed to be done with the winter solider. "If we don't go now, he did it for nothing." His voice snapped her out of her hurt, and she let Sam tug her away.

"What's the plan?" Y/N asked shakily as they ran. Sam didn't answer. "Sam," She grabs his arm stops, making him skid.

"The plan is we get back to the quintet." As his face turns to her she realizes he's been crying too.

"What about Bucky?" She asks, barely breathing when Sam tugs her forward. "Sam, what about Bucky?" She cries, lucky that they made it far enough away that the agents can't hear her.

"We'll send an extraction team." Sam tells her as he pulls her onto the jet. She screams and pushes in protest, her heart painful ripping in half slowly. She couldn't leave him, knowing what they would do to him.

"No, we have to go get him back! They're going to do it, they're going to make him into the solider again!" She cries, fighting Sam as he tries to strap her in.

"We can't! They'll kill us, and then it'll be for nothing. We have to keep going." He moves quickly to get the jet in the air, somewhere Y/N can't jump out in a suicide mission. Her screams pierce his ears, but he has to keep moving. Bucky made his choice.

"James!" She screams, dissolving into sobs as she curls into herself. She just lost her everything. Her lover. Her future husband. Her future.

She lost it all.

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @punzoquack @mcueveryday @icequeen1371

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel imagine #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter solider #marvel x reader

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