#Ill update this like every few weeks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karajaynetoday · 4 months

Text

nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently.

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next.

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes.

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls.

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily.

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes.

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass.

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react.

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge.

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.”

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight?

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins.

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.”

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

–

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake.

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids.

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you.

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense.

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack.

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy.

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind.

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires.

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor.

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you.

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

…

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump.

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you.

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably.

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you.

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably.

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat.

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves.

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves.

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room.

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”.

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath.

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders.

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.”

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you.

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room.

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face.

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you.

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face.

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder.

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #new jersey devils #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #my writing #nhl fanfiction

494 notes · View notes

silken-moonlight · 10 days

Text

Older Alpha x Human Waitress Part 5

Desmonds POV

A/N: Hi there guys! I had a long day. I am having a job change right now which is quite exhausting. I will be working double shifts until bext week, so the Updates will be a little slower. Just wanted to let you guys know. Thank you for all the love so far. I love you 💗🌸

The alpha loved watching her, studying her every movement. Replaying the conversation they had over and over again, how her laugh sounded and how genuine it was. Of course Desmond knew it would seem weird, however he imagined it to be worse, gladly it wasn’t. The hours passed and they held some small talk.

The alpha was tempted to ask his pack members, especially Denny, for information on her. He was worried when he heard that both of her parents were chronically ill, there must be so much pressure laying on her shoulders. His mind wandered, imagining how he would take care of her…massaging her brudend shoulders, placing kisses on her soft skin, up her neck before he would ...Once again he stopped himself when he felt his cock twitching in his pants. The last thing he wanted was to be hard in the middle of public.

The hours passed and he watched her clock out, she came down from the staff room an hour before the restaurant would close. He assumed she was allowed to leave earlier today. She wore a beautiful floral dress that hugged her waist, the skirt was flowing and falling right above her knees. The neckline made him bite the inside of his cheek, by the moon, she could see a little into her cleavage, her breasts were perfect. What he could see was enough to seal his judgment, absolutely godmade. To his joy she came over, the books in her arm.

“Thank you so much again for the books.” She said to him, almost a little shy. Desmond loved it. “Nothing to thank me for, sweetheart. I never would have guessed that you carry a burden like you do.” He said, making an effort to make his voice smooth and sounding good. A strange expression laid on her face and he could tell the following smile was forced: “Oh well, we all have a story. Have we not?” She asked, trying to get the attention away from herself. The alpha looked her in the eyes, deeply, as if he wanted to devour her beautiful soul: “We do, still we need somebody to take care of ourselves. Who takes care of you, darling?” Desmond grew bold, he knew he played on thin ice.

“I take care of myself.” Her voice was confident, her smile more like a war expression. It was as if she had to convince herself. “I always do.” She added, her smile softening. “And who takes care of you?” She asked him now, he gave her a subtle grin. “I take care of myself too.” She smiled a little wider: “Seems like we have figured it out.” Desmond nodded, not really understanding what she meant. Her phone beeped and she sighed: “Good night, I have to go now. Have a lovely evening.” She said to him and waved to her coworkers. After that she left. Her words stuck in Desmond's mind. His inner wolf whined, firstly he hadn’t been out for the longest time and secondly he wanted to take care of his mate. In his opinion Desmond has wasted enough time. Clearly his mate was suffering and needed to be cared for and pampered. His wolf wanted to do that, Desmond knew better. Through patience he would be rewarded, he just had to go slow and make her see how perfect he was. Even if she never recognized their flirting…

A few hours later

The big SUV held in the middle of the dark forest, the Alpha needed to let his world out. Otherwise he was in danger of losing the control of his wolf. To reduce the danger of doing anything stupid he had driven into the forest of Greenshaven. Desmond got a permit from the local Alpha to run freely in their woods, the other wolves would leave him alone.

So finally, after a week, Desmond turned into his wolf-form. It was like stretching after a long day at the desk, needed and a little painful. His paws touched the naked earth, cool and grounding. He ran around, sniffing the forest and gazed into the sky. He felt lonely, now that he had found his counterpart, his better half, his soulmate. So he ran, wanting to waste all the energy and frustration that had built up.

Running and running and running, but it brought him no peace like usual. He gre restless, agitated and just wanted to scream. So he howled his soul out, calling to his beloved even if she wouldn’t understand or hear it. This calmed his aching heart, so he looked around the area. Desmond had run to the edge of the city, the outskirts. He could smell a variety of things, mostly dogs and chimneys.

But then, moon above, it haunted him. Her smell, again. H could smell her, his wolf followed the trace, bringing him to a smaller house at the edge of the woods. There was a garden, a big one and a broken fence. He stood there, at the edge of the garden, there was light still on in one room. Downstairs was the light on too. His wolf sat down, he would stay here, stand guard.

Then, a noise, the backdoor of the house opened and two red-white dogs exited into the garden. Pumpkin and Spice, Desmond thoughts, her dogs. Surely they were let out to go to the loo before going to sleep.

There she was, standing in the back door in pajamas. His heart quickend. There was no make up on her face, a sleepy expression on her face. Looking utterly adorable in her sleepwear. Desmond was in awe, staring from his dark spot.

He didn’t mean to find her home, but destiny had brought him to her once more. What should he do if not follow destiny's path?

246 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 10 months

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six -> chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him.

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked.

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that.

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant.

He’s not Steve.

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk?

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily.

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again.

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place.

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward.

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him.

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you.

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.”

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?”

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears. He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question.

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.”

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad.

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more.

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath.

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead.

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

🌇 -> chapter eight

#my wriitng #all i really want is you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfiction #older!steve #older!steve harrington

884 notes · View notes

peachdues · 6 months

Text

COALESCENCE — RANDOM SNIPPETS

Levi x F!Reader • secret pregnancy AU

I feel bad I haven’t updated anything for Coalescence recently — so have some random snippets from Part I. I will return to Coalescence once Part III of my Demon Slayer fic, In the Netherwood, is complete.

CW: MDNI • mentions of injury • pregnancy • NSFW sneak peek at the end • Hange being Hange • Hange also finds out that Levi x Reader have been fucking and Reader is now pregnant • Levi eats pussy like a god

Death was far quieter than you’d imagined. It was dark, perhaps even peaceful. An endless oblivion amidst which you floated without form; weightless.

When you’d lost unconsciousness against the rubble that was once the Main Street of Trost, you’d accepted the very real — and likely — possibility that you would not wake up again.

In your youth, death had been nothing more than an abstract concept; something that happened only to the elderly or those who caught illnesses that could not be treated, or even to those who ventured beyond the Walls.

As a soldier within the Survey Corps, however, you’d learned that death was as certain as the sun even if you might not live long enough to see it rise.

And, having spent the last eight years of your life fighting on behalf of the Corps even as your comrades dropped like flies around you, you knew you’d long overstayed your welcome in this world overrun by titans.

So when everything had begun to fade to black as you laid broken on chunks of stone and brick, you thought death had finally come to collect on the debt you owed. You supposed you were grateful that your final moments were not spent struggling in the grip of a titan as it brought you to its open, salivating mouth.

Really, it wasn’t such a bad way to go, dying from injuries sustained in an explosion — even if the explosion had been caused by the stupidity of one of your own. You could make peace with it; you almost had.

Almost.

The one, nagging thought you’d had as the world around you melted into dark oblivion had been of him — of your dark-haired, brooding boyfriend, who was likely miles away from Trost and utterly unaware of the disaster that had befallen the district; that had befallen you.

Levi, you’d known, was going to be pissed when he found out you’d gotten yourself killed, after he’d told you, so many times, to avoid doing exactly that.

As much as you’d hoped he could find it within himself to forgive you, you knew he wouldn’t, and truthfully, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. You knew how every face of your fallen comrades haunted the Captain’s waking hours — how their screams plagued his precious few hours of sleep.

And now, it seemed, you would only be adding yourself to the festering wound he carried on his heart; so no, you probably didn’t deserve his forgiveness anyways.

It would’ve been nice to see him, one last time — you would’ve taken one of his fierce verbal lashings, if it meant hearing his voice one last time.

There was nothing you could do, however but resign yourself to death’s beckoning embrace, to fade into the nether and dissolve among the stars —

A buzz broke the quiet black of your oblivion.

You frowned; the buzz seemed to grow louder with each dull thud of your heart. You wanted to bat it away, make the silence come back and sink into the calm stupor you’d been floating in once more.

But the buzz was incessant, growing louder until you realized it was not a buzz at all, but voices. Many voices, speaking over one another in hissed, urgent tones.

“Get me a sponge, I can’t see where all this blood is coming from —“

“— Did you see her bloodwork? She’s at least ten weeks along, she’ll need to be discharged immediately —“

“That’s assuming the fetus has even survived —“

“Shush, I think she’s coming to; someone get Squad Leader Hange —

The voices melted together above you, their grate making the ache in your head grow steadily more piecing with each passing breath.

With far more effort than you wanted to believe it would take, your eyes slowly opened, struggling to adjust against the harsh overhead light of the Trost infirmary.

That light, however, was quickly blocked out by a shadowy figure leaning over you, far too close to your face for you own comfort. Your eyelids fluttered as the figure above you sharpened into focus, revealing a pair of large brown eyes blinking owlishly down at you.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier!” The unmistakable voice of your Squad Leader chirped. “Glad to have you with us!”

Your lips, dry and cracked parted to answer her, but you could do no more than respond with a strangled, pained groan.

The surface upon which you’d been lain — a cot, by the feel of it — dipped as Hange Zoe climbed atop it, legs carefully straddling your hips to keep their weight off you, as the Squad Leader leaned in close to your face.

“Squad Leader — you can’t —“ a nurse tried.

Her admonition fell on deaf ears. “You had me worried there, Y/N,” Hange’s began, fingers peeling back your eyelids to check the dilation of your pupils.

“You were in rough shape when Braus and another cadet pulled you free from that toppled building.”

You tried to ask how long you’d been out, but your mouth struggled to form around the shape of the words. Instead, all that came out was a garbled string of nonsense.

“You have a concussion, that’s for sure,” Hange said smoothly, fingers prodding at a tender spot against your temple.

“But that’s not the most important thing — Y/N, did you know you’re pregnant?”

That single word broke through the addled fog clogging your head.

“Preg—?” You managed, your tongue thick in your mouth.

Hange appeared to interpret the furrow of your eyebrows as a lack of comprehension rather than shock. “Yes, preg-nant. There is a small clump of cells growing inside you that will become a child —“

You grimaced. “N-no,” you tried. “I had — an implant —“

You heard the nurses desperately plea with your Squad Leader to get them down from where they’d perched upon your cot, but Hange paid them no mind.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, doll, but they aren’t always one hundred percent effective. It’s rare, but it happens.”

Under normal circumstances, you would have cursed your luck. Of course you’d end up being the exception.

“I can’t say I’m excited for you,” Hange continued, though it appeared they had been finally persuaded to remove themselves from your cot. The Squad Leader deftly stepped away from you, coming around the edge of your bed to take a clipboard from one of the nurses.

“You’re my best Scout; your pregnancy means I have to discharge you. No exceptions.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open, unconsciousness creeping in once more. “Is — am I still —?”

Hange looked up from your medical sheet, eyes softening. “Yes, Y/N, though you’re not entirely out of the clear, yet.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or not; part of you relaxed at the assurance, but until you could talk to Levi —

Levi.

Fuck, Levi.

You hadn’t known of your — condition — until mere seconds before, which meant Levi sure as hell had no clue that your birth control had failed, and you were now carrying irrefutable proof of the relationship the two of you had concealed for the last year.

Levi.

You needed to tell him, and fast; before it was too late to address the problem.

Levi.

There was nothing you could do at that moment as the world around you began to dim once more. Try as you might, your body was unable to fight off the sleep that crept in and began to tug you under, despite the urgency with which you thought of your need to get in contact with the Captain as soon as possible.

Levi. You needed to talk to Levi.

But the Trost infirmary slipped away, the voices of nurses and of Hange fading to the same buzz which had brought you back to consciousness the first time.

Before you slipped below the waves of sleep, you heard your Squad Leader’s lone gasp.

“Motherfucker-“

—-

(Levi’s POV)

Levi’s eccentric comrade emerged from the small examination room, a pensive look on their face.

Levi hadn’t given much thought as to what he would do if he ran into any of his colleagues among the upper ranks of the Scouts. His mind had been exclusively focused on her, and the news that had shaken him to his core.

He remained pressed against the corridor wall, for once uncertain whether he should make his presence known or stay still until Hange wandered away, leaving him to slip into the examination room unseen.

But the section leader had always had a peculiar sense as to when he was near, and so with a slight sense of foreboding, Levi watched as Hange’s head turned towards him, eyes as round and as bright as an owl’s.

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Levi.”

Levi kept his features neutral. “Is it?”

Hange’s expression was inscrutable. “What a day, huh?” They folded their arms across their chest and leaned against the doorway leading to her — to Y/N.

“A titan breach, gross incompetence by the Garrison causing even more casualties and destruction,” Hange counted off the day’s events on her fingers. “And to top it all off, the best scout on my squad not only got injured because of said incompetence, but she’s also pregnant.”

It took everything in him to keep his voice even and monotone. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the headache. The paperwork to discharge a scout is tedious at best.”

Levi brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of his cape. “Better go get a move on.”

A strange smirk tugged at the corner of Hange’s mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about who the prospective father is, have you?”

There was a beat. “No.”

Hange’s smirk turned into a grin. “Poor thing has a concussion — it’s small, don’t worry,” and Levi knew his face must have tightened. “But the funniest thing happened while the poor girl was coming in and out of consciousness.”

Levi’s fists clenched slightly at the feral glint in their eye.

“It was almost hard to hear what she was muttering, the poor dear,” Hange finally kicked off the door jam and moved to saunter past her raven-haired comrade.

“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with my scout, Levi.”

Levi’s voice dropped to a near whisper as they brushed by him. “Hange.”

“It seems the pregnancy is still viable,” the section commander said quietly.

He couldn’t stifle the faint exhale of relief which left him at their reassurance. For as shocking as the news of her pregnancy was, Levindidnt want to think about the mental toll a miscarriage could have wrought upon you.

Or himself, for that matter.

“You can go in,” Hange’s voice interrupted is slight reprieve. “I’ll make sure no one comes this way for at least a few minutes. But you can’t stay long — Erwin wants to see us.”

—-

“Well, congratulations!” Hange boomed, clapping the Captain sharply on the shoulder. “Good on you for working to restore the human race!”

A muscle in Levi’s jaw ticked. “Hange—“

“I guess the moniker ‘humanity’s strongest’ doesn’t just apply to your combat skills —“

“Hange.”

“— I’m talking super swimmers —“

“Oi. Four-eyes.” Levi pulled on the eccentric squad leader’s ponytail to command their attention. “Enough.”

—-

(NSFW bonus)

“You’ve gotta speak up, sweetheart,” Levi mocked between teasing kitten licks against your outer folds. his breath was hot as he exhaled against your damp core. “I’m waiting.”

You felt frustrated tears gather in the corners of your eyes. With an impatient whine, you rolled your hips towards him desperately, eyes wide and pleading for him to do something to fill the empty ache you felt within.

“Not good enough,” Levi growled, tongue lazily circling your entrance, twitching away every time you jerked your hips towards his mouth.

“Levi, please, I—,” you choked off with a frustrated whine. “You’re not being nice — I’m pregnant —,”

The stoic Captain pulled his mouth away from you entirely, rocking back on his heels. From between your thighs, Levi studied you, a renewed heat flaring to life in his steely eyes.

“You are, aren’t you?” He conceded, his eyes locking in on your mouth as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and mewled. “And all because of me.”

Levi’s eyes dropped back down to your core, slick and aching, ready to take him however he wanted.

“And what kind of father would I be if I made the mother of my child suffer unnecessarily?”

Any response or yearning plea you may have answered him with died in your throat as Levi surged forward, his tongue plunging deep within your entrance, his nose pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

You just managed to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the scream he pulled from you as the Captain began to fuck you with his tongue.

You considered yourself to be somewhat an expert on the eccentricities of Levi Ackerman. You knew he preferred two scoops of leaves for his morning cup of tea, but only one and a half in the evenings. You knew when he bathed he followed a precise routine, always washing himself twice before his hair, and that he always used two towels to dry off because he hated trailing water beyond the washroom.

You knew that he was dust and dirt’s greatest nemesis, and that even the slightest bit of clutter or disarray set his teeth on edge. You knew he loathed sharing any space with the cadets because no matter how many times he threatened them, they never seemed to remember to clean up after themselves properly.

You’d learned all of these quirks slowly, over years of proximity and tentative friendship with the brooding captain. You’d coveted each new discovery like some precious jewel, squirreling it away in a mental folder labeled “Levi,” that you periodically turned to whenever he was stressed or on his last nerve.

But there had been one attribute of his that you hadn’t learned about until after your relationship escalated — after he’d hauled you up onto his desk for the very first time and fucked you stupid.

And that insight was this: Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad and Commander Erwin’s right-hand soldier, ate pussy like a man possessed.

“You’re doing so good, doll,” he groaned between lewd smacks of his mouth against your syrupy folds, his lips and teeth alternating in their ministrations against your clit. “You’re so damn good, giving me a baby, making a father out of me.”

Hearing Levi not only acknowledge your pregnancy but speak as though he were excited the pair of you were venturing into parenthood together made the coil in your belly tighten.

Levi’s hands clamped down around your shins, guiding your legs until they bent at your knees before pushing them up and level with your hips. His fingers splayed around your calves, he used his grip to rock you back and forth against his face, allowing your juices to smear across his lips and jaw until his skin was shiny with your arousal.

He hummed in response to the staccato of “oh fuck, oh fuck — Levi —“ which fell from your lips until you could no longer remember how to form words.

His eyes remained open and fixed pointedly on your face, those gray irises tracking every twitch of your mouth and pinch of your brow. The louder your strangled whimpers became, the harder he moved you, until you were nearly sobbing for him to let you come apart on his tongue.

more levi content soon, babies!

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot smut #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfiction #snk levi #captain levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan

273 notes · View notes

lizzieislife94x · 5 months

Text

Professor Maximoff (w.m)

Wanda G!PxFem Reader

legal age gap y/n is 22 and lizzie is lets say 28

Just a little update to keep the book updated requests are open always Also over 10k reads holy shit I didn't think that many would see this 😳 but thank you (the fact this was the 10k read mark originally and then the whole book got removed at 700k reads still hurts my heart lmfao)

Y/ns POV:

"Hey can I have an iced coffee please" I say to the woman serving me "that will be $4 please and ill get your coffee right away" I smile and hand over the money as I wait for my drink after a minute she hands me my drink I smile and say thank you as I head out the store I pull my phone out to check the time and notice I'm later for my first class fuck I have professor Maximoff this morning I've already been later twice this week she's gonna kill me, she is intimidating but I can't help but drool over her every day in class she's fucking perfect and always wears these suits that do things to me I'm snapped out of my thoughts by my phone dinging I quickly look at the screen and see a text from my best friend Natasha.

Nat<3: Dude you better get here ASAP maximoff is looking at your empty seat with an annoyed look, youre gonna be in so much shit get here like now!

Fuck fuck fuck

Me: Shit I had to get coffee I'm on campus ill be there in 5 minutes try and stall for me make up an excuse or something on my way.

I take a few sips of my coffee and throw it in the trash as I run through the halls like a madman towards professor maximoffs class after a 2 minutes of sprinting I pull the door open and bend over trying to get my breath back "I'm...so..sorry I'm late professor " I say panting as I walk towards my desk I hate being in the front she's gonna stare me down "miss l/n this is your 3rd time late this week I'm not impressed you have detention" she says in a cold tone "I'm I'm really sorry my alarm didn't go off" I lie with a whisper looking down at my desk "no excuses y/n you're a grown girl youre big enough to make sure you arrive on time, open your book to page 60 and read ill deal with you later" she hisses as I pull my book out and start reading I can't help but feel sad for some reason as if I've let her down

looks like I'll actually be reading today I can't bare to look at her I don't wanna see the disappointment in her eyes, I continue to read until professor maximoff hands some tests out "pop quiz I hope you guys took in what we learned last week" fuck of course I didn't I was drooling over her I'm in so much shit "Nat you have to help me I can't remember what we where studying last week" I whisper leaning over to Nat "you need to stop having little fantasies about maximoff and start paying attention in class y/n but I'll try my best to help" she whisper shouts at me great Nat is pissed at me maximoff is pissed at me I sigh and grab my pen as I begin to read over the test paper "A, C, C, B, A, A" Nat whisper as I quickly circle the answers half way there I can do this "miss romanoff can you go to room 336 and get the books for next week please" I hear professor maximoff say out loud as I look up at her then at Nat with a pleading look "of course professor" Nat says as she stands up to leave, fuck fuck fuck I'm screwed I just have to guess the last 6 after 15 minutes I put my pen down and sigh as I lean my elbows on the desk and over my face with my hands "miss l/n get your work done no time for breaks" I move my hands slightly and look at her "I'm done professor" I say with an icy tone full of attitude "less of the attitude miss l/n and bring your test over anymore of that and ill give you detention all next week do you understand me" she states blatantly

I walk over to her desk and hand her the test "I understand professor maximoff I'm sorry" I say looking down "go and sit at your desk quietly don't disturb the rest of the class" I nod and walk back to my desk and sit for a bit as the bell rings I go to get up to leave "y/n sit you have detention for the next 2 hours" wait how did she know she's not even looking up she's marking the tests "yeah of course sorry" I say as I sit back down the classroom soon empty "grab a chair and come sit beside me you can help sort this paperwork" I just stand and grab my chair walking to her desk as I sit she looks at me for a minute studying me "what's going on with you why are you late so often, why are you giving attitude in class" she says as she places her hand on mine making me freeze "I uh I um I've not been sleeping great I'm sorry and I snapped because you where being rude and im tired I'm sorry" I say looking down she grips my chin pulling my face up to look at her "you need to start behaving y/n" she says with a tone I haven't heard, I feel my heart pound as a little moan escapes at the action she just did "I fuck..I'll um try professor"

she bites her lip as her thumb gently rubs my chin slowly moving up to pull my bottom lip slightly "you can't be making those cute little sounds y/n or you'll make it harder to keep my cool around you, you have no idea how much I wanna fuck that attitude out of you" I let out another moan feeling the pool form in my panties I don't know what came over me before I know it I'm climbing into her lap straddling her "maybe that's what I need someone to fuck the attitude out of me" I whisper into her ear making her groan I slightly grind into her to get comfortable but feel something hard forming, uh fuck she has a dick the thought alone makes me drip in an instant I'm bent over her desk with my skirt up around my waist "fuck y/n you drive me crazy it's been so hard to keep my cool I can't help but watch you walk around in these little skirts day In day out" she whispers into my ear as my panties are pulled off "fuck professor maximoff I've been so naughty I need you to fuck me hard" I whimper as I hear her pants being unzipped she spreads my legs and moans at the view I can't help but feel a little shy as she stares at me my cunt dripping I quickly cover my mouth and scream as I feel her sink deep inside me "uhhh fuck princess so tight for mommy" I moan and nod looking round "fuck to big mommy I I can't" I breath out as she leans over making me moan at the sudden movements "you can do it kitten shhh you're being so good for mommy I promise it will feel good in a minute" she moans rubbing my shoulders as I feel her thrusting slowly I can't help but moan "so good so good" I whimper as her hands run down my body to my hips as she increases her thrusts "uhhhhh fuck fuck fuckkkk"

I moan louder as she starts to pound into me harder slamming her full length deep inside me hitting my gspot repeatedly "if I ever hear another bit of attitude coming from that pretty mouth I'll fuck it out of you kitten" she moans thrusting harder "well looks...like...I'm gonna have an attitude..every...everyday" I moan out as I feel my orgasm approach "I'm gonna I'm uhhh" I scream as I cum making professor maximoff groan at the sensation she doesn't stop she only gets faster pounding my cunt relentlessly "fuck this pussy is mine do you understand " she moans I lay spread across her desk unable to form words as she pounds me over and over I feel the second orgasm hit me as she groans "fuck kitten your walls are squeezing me so fucking good you're doing amazing give me one more" she moans as she keeps her thrusts going I can't help but whimper and drool all over her desk it feels so fucking good but I swear I'm gonna pass out "gonna...cum mommy...I " my eyes roll as she slams deep inside me cumming deep inside me as I cum all over her cock she leans her body on mine moaning into my ear "fuck kitten I've never came like that before you're such a good girl for mommy" I whimper and nod "only for you mommy" I pant trying to get my breath back as she slides out and I stand up fixing my skirt as I feel my legs shaking "I'm keeping these" she smirks holding up my panties putting them into her pocket making me bite my lip "I can't wait for monday" I smirk as I walk away on shaky legs not saying anything else.

AN: I think I'm going to do a part 2 of this in the next hour of the events of the weekend requests are open haha stay hydrated people word count is 1.6k

148 notes · View notes

mooshywrites · 3 months

Text

Bloodied Stars - Part 3 - Red and Gold Stitching

Fem!Reader x Ascended Astarion

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Comment here to be tagged in chapter updates

Word count - 5.5k

Warnings - (Series contains - Angst, “enemies” to lovers, pregnancy, disagreements, slow character growth, smut, typical asshole ascended astarion behavior, cliffhangers, murder, death - This takes place after the events in BG3, the ‘reader’ (you) is not Tav. Just a Baldur’s Gate resident)

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“We could be a family”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Chapter list

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

You awoke with a start, grimacing when your muscles protested sorely. You rubbed your eyes, trying to regain your bearings.

You were in your bed.

Familiar sights and smell filtered in, the skeins of thread littering your table, the comfortable fabric of your quilt over you, the sunlight filtering through your bedside window.

You squinted at the light, memories of the night before appearing as snippets.

Your cheeks flushed red as what you had done hit you all at once. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, remembering the feeling of the vampire’s hands all over you.

You reached up, fingertips tracing over the twin pinpricks on your neck.

Not a dream, then.

You took in a deep breath, looking out the window. With a shake, you tried to ignore thinking about how exactly you’d been returned to your bed, or what it meant for an ascended vampire of all people to know where you lived. You tried to keep the sadness from tugging at your chest, shaking off the sleepiness from the morning.

As you stood up and stretched, you tried to fill yourself with determination. You were home. You were alive. More importantly, you had orders to fill.

It was best to put your near death experience and incredibly alluring one night stand as far out of your mind as possible. After all, you would never be seeing the pale elf again.

Would you?

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

The next few days had dragged on painfully slow. The orders you usually snagged as a seamstress seemed to have all but dried up completely. Business was usually a little slow around this time of year, but the extra time on your hands did nothing to help your constant habit of thinking about your night with the Vampire.

In the evenings, you even found yourself focusing outside of your window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man. But there was never a single sign from him. You hadn’t been back to the bar where you met Amastacia since that night, but you were sure she wouldn’t have shown her face there either.

As the days turned into weeks, doubts began to creep in your mind. Had it all been some sort of dream?

Your mood wasn’t helped by the ill timed cold you caught. Earlier in the week, you found yourself growing nauseated constantly. The only thing you could force and keep down was a meat broth, a dish you’d had every day for almost entire week by now.

When the sunlight started streaming through your window this particular morning, your nausea was a little more kind to you than usual. Happy to be finally getting over the sickness, you stretched with a yawn. Making your way to the window, you soaked in the cool morning air washing over you like a soothing balm. As you gazed out at the waking city below, your stomach growled loudly.

At least with the nausea gone, you finally had an appetite.

You padded your way into the small kitchen, rummaging through your stores for ingredients. The kitchen was always a disheveled mess, neglected in favor of your sewing. That meant finding anything in here was a nightmare. With a sigh, you settled on a vegetable medley and cured sausage for breakfast. Now that you would be able to keep food down, it would probably be important to get as many nutrients as possible.

But as you began chopping the colorful vegetables, a sudden wave of unease washed over you. The vibrant hues and crisp textures that usually had you drooling now seemed to turn your stomach. The sight and smell of the sausage made your nose wrinkle and body recoil in a way you couldn’t comprehend.

Frowning, you tried to push away these strange feelings, attributing them to the lingering effects of your recent illness. But as you continued to cook, an undeniable craving gnawed at the back of your mind, growing louder with each passing moment.

And then it hit you. As you watched the crimson juices from the beets stain the cutting board, a primal desire surfaced.

A desire for that juice to be blood.

Disgust filled you immediately, conflicting emotions warring within you. You dropped the knife with a clatter, feeling as though you were teetering on the edge of sanity. Your thoughts immediately flicked to the night you shared with your very own bloodsucker.

Had you been turned into a spawn?

No, surely that was impossible. Embarrassing as it was to admit, you’d read up quite a bit about vampires in the past weeks, your curiosity getting the best of you. From what you had read, spawns were only created if they had died after being bitten by a vampire.

Though you didn’t have much memory of after you fell asleep in the pale elf’s arms, you were very sure you hadn’t died.

It had to be from something else. As you stared at the red stained cutting board before you, you wondered if you should see a healer about this.

“Just don’t tell them you slept with a vampire,” you chided yourself with a hollow laugh.

Shaking off your unease, you resolved to go ahead and seek an expert. One who could shed some light on your peculiar situation.

You took a few minutes to throw on something other than your sleep shirt, slipping into your shoes to ready yourself for the day. The sky was starting to grow downcast and you cursed under your breath, hoping you wouldn’t show up to the healer looking like a rain drowned rat.

Leaving your beloved shop behind, you ventured out into the bustling streets. Despite the weather, the city was a cacophony of sights and sounds. Merchants hawking their wares, children playing in the cobblestone alleys, and plenty of shady characters lurking in the shadowed parts of the road. As you made your way through the crowded city, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of your mind. The events of the past few weeks weighed heavily on your soul, and the mystery of your newfound condition haunted you like a ghost.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestone as you finally arrived at the healer’s shop. The building was a quaint little establishment, nestled amongst winding ivy and foliage, its wooden sign creaking in the gentle breeze.

Pushing open the door, you were greeted by the scent of herbs and dried flowers, mingling with the smoky aroma of incense. The healer, a wise old half-elf with kind eyes, looked up from his book with a smile.

“Welcome to Bandages, Books, and Bobs, dearie,” he croaked. “What ails ya’.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to broach the subject with the elderly man. His wrinkled face held centuries of wisdom, yet you couldn’t shake the doubt he’d be unable to help.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found the courage to speak, your voice hushed with nervousness. “I.. I don’t know exactly. It’s like… like a cold but I’m having some odd food distaste as well. Along with fatigue of course.”

The healer’s gaze turned sharp and focus,ed his eyes peeking over his glasses as he studied you. After a moment of silence, he let out an approving grunt, hobbling over to a low set table.

“Fatigue, you say? Let’s see if we can’t find the cause. Sit down over here, dearie, and let old Birch have a closer look,” he smiled.

You settled onto the worn wooden table as Birch meandered around the shop, grabbing a few different apparatuses in his arms.

The elder laid out his instruments meticulously, rambling under his breath about organization. He first reached for a delicate silver chain with a shimmering crystal at its end, swinging it gently in front of your eyes. As the crystal danced in the light, you felt a wave of calm wash over you, soothing any nerves you had.

Birch then brought a small vial filled with a vibrant blue liquid that seemed to glow from within. He uncorked the vial and carefully placed a drop onto his gnarled finger, which he then touched to your forehead. The liquid seeped into your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

“These must be old methods,” you wondered aloud as the old man observed your reaction.

“Older than the city in which we sit,“ Birch assured happily.

Finally, he moved on to a bundle of dried herbs tied together with a satin ribbon. He crushed the herbs between his weathered palms, releasing a fragrant aroma that filled the room.

“Take a deep breath, dearie,” he instructed.

As you inhaled the earthy scent, your stomach upturned immediately. You gagged on the smell, willing yourself not to throw up on the elder in front of you. The healer’s hands dropped as he looked at you with newfound understanding, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smile.

“No need to worry, my sweet,” he said gently. “You and your special someone are about to be a trio.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as you met his gaze, your thoughts trying to piece together what the old man was saying.

“You’re with child,” he offered knowingly.

A rush of emotions flooded through you as the healer’s words settled in.

A child?

How could this be possible? Realization hit you like a ton of bricks as your mind raced back to the night you’d been taken. The memory that you’d desperately tried to move past. In a daze, you grabbed the edges of the table, trying to steady yourself. The healer’s voice seemed to fade in the background as you grappled with the situation you found yourself in.

Questions tumbled through your mind, a tempest of uncertainty and fear threatening to consume you whole. What kind of creature were you even carrying in your womb? None of the books you had read said anything about vampires conceiving children.

Could you even take care of a child?

You were by no means destitute, but your shop and home were small. Your income was only enough to manage scraping by, definitely not enough for what it took to raise someone.

Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a flicker of another feeling stirred within you - a cool and collected determination. It seemed so out of place in the whirlwind of panic consuming the rest of you.

You were going to have to find the pale elf again.

The strange sense of purpose settled deep within you as you mulled over the thought. Whatever you were carrying was going to be at least half vampire. You vaguely remembered the man saying something about being ‘ascended’ as well. Nothing you had read about explained anything about ascension, so you had no idea how that would factor into your already lacking knowledge surrounding the pregnancy.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed aside the doubts and fears that threatened to overwhelm you. You knew one thing for certain - you needed answers. And the only one who could provide them was the mysterious pale elf who had set this chain of events in motion. You needed to talk to him if you had any hopes of surviving this pregnancy.

If you could find him, that was.

“Thank you for the help, I’m glad it’s not anything more serious,” you smiled at the man, trying to keep your voice even and assured.

He gave you a bright smile, ushering you to the front to take your payment. His wise eyes never left you, seeming to understand the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. Thankfully, he didn’t pry too much into your sour mood. With a final thank you, you turned to leave.

“Good luck with the little one, dearie! You’ll be just fine,” he called out.

Oh how hard it was to keep the tears from flowing with that encouragement.

Leaving the healer’s abode, your mind was consumed by the puzzle that lay before you. There was three things you knew you needed to find out. What did it mean to be ascended? How would that factor in to your baby?

Most importantly, how do you find someone when you don’t know where they live or even know their name?

The determination that had taken root in your chest blossomed into a steely resolve as you navigated the winding streets of the city. The only place you could think to start looking was the tavern where it all began.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Waiting for the pub to open that evening was hellish, your body thrumming with the need to do something with all the nervous energy you were producing.

You shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench outside the tavern, your thoughts drifting back to the healer’s words. The finally setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. As you sat there, your hand absentmindedly rubbing your arm, you couldn’t help but wonder about the child growing inside of you. Were they the reason you were craving raw meat? You couldn’t help but giggle as you paired the thoughts together.

“I hope you don’t want blood often,” you mused to yourself. “Otherwise, you and I are going to have a long nine months.”

Did vampires even have nine month pregnancies? You hadn’t even thought of how the race would affect you, you were so caught up in what it meant for your child to be half vampire.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice the sound of the tavern door creaking open. It didn’t take long for people to begin spilling in, the sound of laughter and clinking spilling into the streets.

Stepping inside, the warm light and comforting smell of ale washed over you like a familiar embrace. In minutes, the tavern was crowded with patrons, their voices blending together. You made your way to a corner table, watching and waiting.

Hours passed as you nursed a mug of honey tea, your gaze darting around the room, searching for any sign of recognition. Sleep had already started to pull at your eyes, the fire crackling making you even drowsier.

Then, just as you were beginning to lose hope, a figure caught your eye. A well dressed man sitting at the bar, laughing loudly at the woman next to him. There was something about his stark white hair that sparked the memory within you. His were the same shade of hair and eyes as your pale elf.

Without hesitation, you rose from your seat and approached him, heart pounding in your chest. As he turned to face you with a confused glance, you cleared your throat loudly. The woman next to him gave you a look as well, her eyes giving you a critical once over.

“Can I help you?” the man prodded.

“You should leave while you can,” you told the woman, ignoring the pale spawn. “Unless you want to be this guy’s dinner. And not in the fun way.”

The spawn’s eyes sparked with anger, the wooden pitcher of ale in his hand shaking slightly. The woman’s gaze flickered between you and the white haired man, uncertainty clouding her features. She seemed torn between heeding your warning and dismissing it as mere lunacy.

“Why should I believe you?” the woman challenged, her voice tinged with discomfort.

You took a step closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because I know who he works for and what they’re capable of. Let’s just say it’s not something you want to stick around for.”

The white haired man’s grip on the pitcher tightened even further, his expression darkening with every passing second. With a glance, you could see the inner struggle raging within him, torn between obeying his anger and maintaining a facade of civility.

After looking to the spawn, the woman gave a quick nod, pushing herself away from the bar. She shot one last wary glance at the man before making a hasty exit. As soon as she was out of sight, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. You looked back to the furious man, almost taken aback by the complete lack of fear you had. For gods sake, this was a vampire spawn. He could rip you limb from limb if he wanted, and yet, the only thing you felt was determination.

“What the hell was that,” the man gritted out.

“Careful, draw too much attention to yourself, spawn, and people will start asking questions,” you smiled.

“What?” he demanded in a hushed voice, his expression growing incredulous. “How would you know I was a spawn.”

“You all need to be introduced to the wide world of hair dye if you think you’re being discreet,” you dead-panned.

The pale man’s confusion was palpable, his brows furrowed together and his lips pressed in a thin line. He glanced around nervously, seemingly worried about anyone eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Now look,” you leaned in closer, your voice low and commanding. “I didn’t come here just to ruin your dinner. Take me to your boss.”

His eyes widened in astonishment, disbelief etched across his features. It was clear that he didn’t expect this brazen demand from someone so unassuming, but there was something in your unwavering gaze that made him hesitate.

He looked over you, determining whether you were a threat. After a moment of tense silence, the spawn straightened up, his demeanor shifting from anger to caution. Without a word, he gestured for you to follow him and began weaving through the crowded pub toward the back exit. You observed his face silently, seeing how easily his charm was turned off. How hollow his eyes looked now that he wasn’t playing a character.

The air grew colder as you stepped out into the alleyway, following the pale man into the darkness beyond. The path was thin and claustrophobic, winding and twisting as you walked. The spawn moved swiftly, his footsteps echoing against the stone as he led you deeper into the city.

After what felt like an eternity, you arrived at a watchtower, an inconspicuous ladder leading up. You vaguely remembered the place from when you had been drugged, but the memory was hazy. You were slightly taken aback by how normal the building looked. You climbed the ladder easily, following the spawn as he led you to the front doors.

The doors creaked open as the man pushed them, and you were met with a sight that stole your breath away. The interior of the bricked building was nothing like the plain outer walls. It was a grand entrance, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries. The room was bathed in a soft ethereal light that seemed to emanate from nowhere, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

You followed the spawn through the hall, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpets that lined the floor. The air was filled with the scent of sandalwood and brandy, a heady mix that made you feel light headed and on edge. As you passed by large portraits and shelves filled with expensive knicknacks, you couldn’t help but wonder how you didn’t know about the people behind these walls.

Finally, you reached a set of ornate double doors at the end of the hall. The spawn turned to you, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“You asked for this,” he said cryptically, his voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever happens from this point is your own fault.”

With a sense of trepidation mixed with curiosity, you nodded for him to open the doors. The doors were silent as they opened, revealing a room that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

It was just as richly detailed as the hallway, tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers with flickering candles. Through the shadow, your eyes landed on a figure at the end of the room, lounging on a plush chair. As your eyes focused in on the darkness, your breath stilled.

There was your pale elf.

He shifted lazily on the throne, his gaze fixed on something far beyond your reach. His white hair curled ever so delicately above his eyes, starkly contrasting his crimson gaze. Your eyes trailed over his features, the memory of the night you shared making your cheeks flush.

Not the time for such things, you thought.

“Have you brought me dinner?” The pale elf asked, the spawn next to you going still.

You stepped further into the room, trying to ignore the sharp scent of metal present in the air. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance as you realized the vampire wasn’t paying attention to your arrival, the feeling mixing with your crippling nervousness.

His eyes were glazed over as though he existed in a realm all his own, detached from the world around him. Despite his apparent disinterest, you felt the familiar pull towards the pale elf.

Like a moth to a flame.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice calm. “But I’m not dinner.”

A flicker of recognition sparked in the vampire’s ruby eyes as he slowly shifted his gaze, focusing on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The memory of your clandestine encounter lingered between you, unspoken yet palpable in the charged air of the room. His surprise at seeing you seemed to mingle with a simmering anger, evident in the way his jaw tensed imperceptibly.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric as you took a cautious step closer. The delicate dance of candlelit shadows played across the floor, casting an otherworldly glow upon your features. You steeled yourself, focusing on keeping your breath even and your shoulders back.

You wouldn’t let him see you afraid.

“You have quite the audacity to seek me out,” he remarked, his voice low and as smooth as the velvet flooring. A predatory gleam surfaced in his gaze, doing nothing to help the memories you were trying to ignore. “Or perhaps you simply enjoy tempting fate.”

Despite the tension that crackled between you, a sense of defiance bloomed within your chest. You refused to cower under his piercing stare, mustering all the courage you could gather.

“I came here with a purpose,” you asserted, your tone unwavering. “There’s something you need to know.”

A sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his lips, revealing a hint of pointed fangs that glistened in the dim light.

“Is that so?” he drawled, amusement coloring his words. “And what makes you think I would be inclined let you live long enough to speak?”

The challenge in his voice spurred something primal within you, fueling your annoyance into a flaming blaze of anger. The arrogant smile across his lips had lit the wrong fuse within you.

“Because I’m carrying your child,” you replied simply.

The vampire’s eyes widened in shock, his confident demeanor fading entirely as he processed your words. The air was thick with tension, your confession lingering like a hanging shroud.

“Leave,” he demanded, his eyes flicking to the spawn beside you. Those words were all it took for the smaller man to make a hasty exit. For you to be alone with the pale elf again.

Something told you that this time would be a lot less pleasurable than the last.

“You’re carrying my child?” His voice wavered, betraying a hint of something deeper beneath his usual arrogance.

You held his gaze steadily, willing him to see the truth in your eyes. “Yes,” you affirmed, your voice soft but still sure. “I didn’t come here seeking a fight. I came here because I know nothing of how your kind works. I don’t want this pregnancy to kill me just because I was unlucky enough to conceive with a vampire.”

His gaze softened entirely at the vulnerability in your words, a split second where he even looked on you with compassion. Only a moment after, his demeanor hardened again.

“If that is indeed the case, you’re not leaving,” he declared firmly, his voice carrying a tone of finality that allowed no argument. The shadows seemed to gather around him like a cloak, emphasizing the sharp angles of his features and the intensity in his eyes. You shivered involuntarily, feeling the weight of his command pressing down on you.

Not leaving?

As if in response to his words, the room felt as if it was shrinking around you, the walls closing in at the thought of being stuck in a place like this.

“Why not?” you whispered, suddenly desperately wanting to be back in your comfortable home. All of the confidence you felt drained from your body, pinned under the vampire’s stare.

“You carrying my heir is not a situation I had anticipated,” he sighed, looking off as he planned aloud. “But now that it is here, we must consider our next steps carefully.”

Your skin began to crawl, feeling uncomfortable with how quickly his words started to sound like a strategy. As if he was thinking about how to work in a new pawn to his game.

“Having an heir could mean a powerful ally in my world,” he continued.

You weighed the words carefully, biting your tongue in an attempt to rationalize the aggressiveness that rose in your chest.

“You see this baby as a calculated move to further your power?” you accused, the words like venom on your tongue.

His gaze grew pointed, warning flashing in his eyes. “You underestimate the significance of the child you carry,” his voice was soft but laced with underlying threat. “With an heir born of an ascended bloodline, I could solidify my position.”

“This child I carry is not a pawn for you to manipulate,” you spat, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his response.

His jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he struggled to maintain his composure. But you saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a vulnerability that almost made him seem human.

“You think I wanted things to turn out this way?” he gritted. “That night was a mistake. But now I must adapt with the hand I’ve been dealt.”

You flinched at his words, trying not to let the way he said ‘mistake’ carve a wound into your heart.

Was that night a mistake?

“A child can’t bear the weight of your world,” you pleaded.

“My heir can,” he seethed, baring his teeth as he spoke.

You shoulders sagged, exhaustion suddenly breaking you. You knew this was a fight you couldn’t win. You were completely and utterly trapped. You had no way of protecting the life growing inside of you.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as the life you would lead began to play out in your mind. Your heart ached at the thought of your baby being destined for a life devoid of innocence and joy. Images of a dark and twisted future flashed, a future where your child would never know the warmth of the sun or the laughter of other children. You knew you would be cast aside after giving birth, thrown away when you had served your purpose. But thinking of having the baby, looking at its little face and crystal clear eyes opening for the first time and it being to a world so violent…

That hurt worse.

“Not my baby,” you whispered helplessly, despair clouding your mind.

The vampire’s expression softened as he saw the tears on your cheeks, the depths of your emotion in your words. His cold facade cracked for a moment, a wave of sadness in his eyes.

“This does not have to be so grim,” he began, his voice much more gentle. “Your life isn’t over. Neither is the baby’s. I wouldn’t take that from them before they even take their first breath.”

Confusion etched across your features as you dared to hope, a spark of uncertainty mingling with the fear in your heart. Slowly, the vampire stood and took a few steps towards you, his gaze meeting yours with an unexpected tenderness.

“We could even be a family,” he said softly, the words lingering in the air like a fragile promise. “A real family, one that doesn’t impose the weight of responsibility on an heir until they’re old enough to bear it. Power can be safety. Especially in the world the baby will grow up in.”

As you gazed into the vampire’s eyes, a glimmer of longing began to take root in your chest. The idea of a family, of a future not tainted with this pale elf’s blood soaked world, seemed almost within reach. His words carried a sliver of hope that you desperately clung to in the midst of your despair.

But as you continued to study his face, looking for any signs of hesitance, you noticed the hollow look that lingered in his eyes. It was a subtle shift, barely perceptible, but it sent a chill down your spine. All at once, the realization struck you like a hideous bolt of lightning-

He was lying.

Anger surged within you, fierce and unrelenting. How dare he play with your emotions, offer you everything you had dreamed of? And for what? So he could gain an inch more of power by raising someone to be as monstrous as him?

Your tears grew hot, rage fueling every thought you had. With a steel edge to your voice, you glared up at the vampire.

“You can’t help it can you?” you seethed. “Too weak to get anything in life without manipulation. I won’t sacrifice my life for you.”

The vampire’s lips curled into a challenging sneer, the air growing heavy as he stepped closer. Each step was deliberate, each movement menacing

“How dare you speak to me like that,” he hissed, mere inches from your face. “You are nothing but a mere mortal, insignificant. You know nothing of sacrifice.”

You stood your ground, refusing to cower before him. The vampire’s gaze darkened, anger brewing behind his eyes as he regarded you.

“Faelar!” He barked, his eyes switching to the door in which you entered.

Before you could react, the door opened quickly. A taller man with the same stark white hair entered, his head bowed respectfully. The vampire took a step back from you, giving the spawn his attention.

“Take her,” he commanded, his tone icy. “Lock her in the spare room until she learns her place.”

The spawn obeyed without question, his expression blank as he approached you. He picked you up deftly, tucking you against his chest.

“No!” you cried out, trying to struggle against his arms.

Despite your thrashing and attempts to break free, his grip was unyielding and firm. His strength was unnatural, his muscles like steel beneath his pale skin. As he started to carry you down the hall, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread settle in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually you stopped fighting, devolving into a puddle of tears in the spawn’s arms. The spawn held you close through the dimly lit corridors of the ancient mansion, his steps clicking softly. Your sobs had morphed into silent tears, leaving only the hollow ache of helplessness.

As he pushed open a pair of heavy wooden door, a waft of musty air greeted you, mingled with a faint scent of dried roses. You peeked around in the dark room, taking in your new prison. The room was sparse, furnished with a bed draped in faded linens and a solitary bookcase covered in dust.

The spawn laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness, his touch feather-light against your skin. His hollow eyes had softened as he regarded you with an unspoken empathy. Your eyes flitted to the door, gauging whether you could outrun a vampire spawn in an escape. As if reading your mind, the man shook his head apologetically.

“Don’t try. You’ll only make him angrier,” he chided. His voice was airy, an accent you couldn’t place rounding out his vowels.

“It seems he’s always angry. Angry and drunk on power” You bit out, regretting the venom in your tone when the spawn flinched.

“You may be right,” he sighed, smoothing out the bedding next to you. “But some who thirst for power are only afraid of what will happen if they don’t have it. Anger is a powerful mask for fear.”

You looked away, mulling over his words silently. You didn’t want to humanize your captor. Didn’t want to think of him as anything other than the monster in your fairytale.

“Someone will visit you with food. Perhaps I can convince the Master to make the room more comfortable as well,” the spawn assured you, moving toward’s the door.

You thumbed the fabric on the bed idly, trying to ignore the growing exhaustion you felt. The cover was just as soft as it looked, the red velvet still bright under the layer of dust. Your fingertips ran over the gold detailing as you thought, resolving yourself to leaving an escape plan for the next day.

“I’ll take my leave, unless you need anything else,” the spawn offered gently, as if he was worried he’d shatter the sliver of composure you had left.

“What’s his name?” you asked, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could even register them as thoughts.

“Astarion,” the pale man whispered, his voice more tense than before. He slipped past the door and shut it before you could ask anything else, leaving you in the dark dusty room. The door clicked as soon as the it shut, locking you within.

You fell back against the bed, too tired to cry any more than you already had. You stared at the gold and red stitching on the duvet below you, trying your best to ignore the shade’s dead match to the Vampire’s eyes.

Astarion, you thought, rolling the name around in your head.

Sleep pulled you close faster than you could realize, the chaos of the day already fading. Images of Astarion danced in your mind, his sharp features softening the same way they did when you caught his mask slipping. The way his eyes held a stormy complexity that both intrigued and terrified you.

Before your eyes fluttered shut for the day, your naive heart couldn’t help but remember his all too pretty lie.

“We could be a family.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Next chapter

Comment here if you would like to be tagged in chapter updates

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Tagged ~ @dinoace2 , @tiedyedghoulette , @bloodlust-1 , @n3cros1sbunny , @bookishpenguino

129 notes · View notes

vickyvicarious · 9 months

Text

Lucy's health tracker

I decided to write up a tracker of Lucy's condition to see how it trends over time... also to see if I can figure out how many times Dracula drinks her blood, even outside of specific confirmed instances. Everything is super long so I have it all under a cut (which also allows me to update as we go along), and the Dracula notes are in a separate post here.

This is the key I'm using: Doing well/recovering, sleepwalking, unwell/getting worse, very ill. When there are multiple of these states mentioned on the same day, I split up the colors throughout the listed date in order of their appearance.

24 July - "Lucy met me at the station, looking sweeter and lovelier than ever,"

26 July - "Lucy, although she is so well, has lately taken to her old habit of walking in her sleep."

27 July - "Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I am awakened by her moving about the room. [...] Thank God, Lucy's health keeps up. [...] she is a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are a lovely rose-pink. She has lost that anæmic look which she had. I pray it will all last."

In late July, Lucy starts out healthy, but her sleepwalking soon begins. Even so, during the few days of this month that we see her, it doesn't have any real negative impacts to her health.

1 August - "Lucy was looking sweetly pretty in her white lawn frock; she has got a beautiful colour since she has been here."

3 August - "Lucy has not walked much in her sleep the last week, but there is an odd concentration about her which I do not understand; even in her sleep she seems to be watching me. She tries the door, and finding it locked, goes about the room searching for the key."

6 August - "Lucy is more excitable than ever, but is otherwise well."

8 August - "Lucy was very restless all night, and I, too, could not sleep. [...] Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake; but she got up twice and dressed herself."

10 August - "Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy all the time, and I cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. [...] Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheeks than usual, and looks, oh, so sweet. [...] I am so happy to-night, because dear Lucy seems better. I really believe she has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles with dreaming."

11 August - "Her lips were parted, and she was breathing—not softly as usual with her, but in long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at every breath. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the collar of her nightdress close around her throat. Whilst she did so there came a little shudder through her, as though she felt the cold. [...] I fastened the shawl at her throat with a big safety-pin; but I must have been clumsy in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for by-and-by, when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and moaned. [...] The adventure of the night does not seem to have harmed her; on the contrary, it has benefited her, for she looks better this morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it might have been serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. I must have pinched up a piece of loose skin and have transfixed it, for there are two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress was a drop of blood. [...] Lucy seems more restful than she has been for some time, and fell asleep at once."

12 August - "My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I was wakened by Lucy trying to get out. She seemed, even in her sleep, to be a little impatient at finding the door shut, and went back to bed under a sort of protest. [...] Lucy woke, too, and, I was glad to see, was even better than on the previous morning. All her old gaiety of manner seemed to have come back,"

13 August - "Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in bed, still asleep, pointing to the window."

14 August - "Lucy had a headache and went early to bed. [...] I was afraid she might get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily; she was holding her hand to her throat, as though to protect it from cold. [...] She looks so sweet as she sleeps; but she is paler than is her wont, and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like."

15 August - "Lucy was languid and tired, and slept on after we had been called."

17 August - "I do not understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing. She eats well and sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air; but all the time the roses in her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by day; at night I hear her gasping as if for air. I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window. Last night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to wake her I could not; she was in a faint. When I managed to restore her she was as weak as water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath. [...] I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the tiny wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and, if anything, larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly white. They are like little white dots with red centres."

18 August - "Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well all night, and did not disturb me once. The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though she is still sadly pale and wan-looking. [...] Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more rosy."

24 August - "I feel so unhappy. Last night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps it is the change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and horrid to me, for I can remember nothing; but I am full of vague fear, and I feel so weak and worn out."

25 August - "More bad dreams. I wish I could remember them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I don't seem ever to get air enough."

30 August - "I have an appetite like a cormorant, am full of life, and sleep well. You will be glad to know that I have quite given up walking in my sleep. I think I have not stirred out of my bed for a week, that is when I once got into it at night. Arthur says I am getting fat."

31 August - "Lucy is ill; that is, she has no special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every day."

Throughout August, Lucy's health trends downwards. While her sleepwalking may be causing her to be tired, it doesn't seem to have any major impacts on her health based on Mina's comments, at least until the 10th. Dracula first drinks from her on the 11th, and after that point she has very few good days. She does perk up briefly right after being drunk from a couple of times, but the only good days that don't mention sleepwalking/aren't on the heels of being drunk come when Dracula has left town (18th) and in her probably misdated letter (30th). Her worst days are marked by mention of difficulty breathing.

2 September - "I am not by any means satisfied with her appearance; she is woefully different from what she was when I saw her last. [...] I could easily see that she is somewhat bloodless, but I could not see the usual anæmic signs, [...] In other physical matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for anxiety; but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to the conclusion that it must be something mental. She complains of difficulty in breathing satisfactorily at times, and of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but regarding which she can remember nothing."

3 September - "Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost something of the ghastly look that so upset you, and her breathing was normal."

4 September - "I had been to see Miss Westenra, whom I found much better,"

5 September - "Patient greatly improved. Good appetite; sleeps naturally; good spirits; colour coming back."

6 September - "Terrible change for the worse."

7 September - "She was ghastly, chalkily pale; the red seemed to have gone even from her lips and gums, and the bones of her face stood out prominently; her breathing was painful to see or hear. [...] Lucy lay motionless, and did not seem to have strength to speak, [...] As the transfusion went on something like life seemed to come back to poor Lucy's cheeks, [...] Just over the external jugular vein there were two punctures, not large, but not wholesome-looking. There was no sign of disease, but the edges were white and worn-looking, as if by some trituration."

8 September - "she looked a different being from what she had been before the operation. Her spirits even were good, and she was full of a happy vivacity, but I could see evidences of the absolute prostration which she had undergone. [...] She never stirred, but slept on and on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving sleep. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity of a pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident that no bad dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind."

9 September - "Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. [...] I feel so happy to-night. I have been so miserably weak, that to be able to think and move about is like feeling sunshine after a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky."

10 September - "There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more horribly white and wan-looking than ever. Even the lips were white, and the gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a corpse after a prolonged illness. [...] [her heart] beats, though but feebly. [...] Lucy slept well into the day, and when she woke she was fairly well and strong, though not nearly so much so as the day before."

11 September - "Lucy much better."

12 September - "Somehow, I do not dread being alone to-night, and I can go to sleep without fear. I shall not mind any flapping outside the window."

13 September - "the poor face with the same awful, waxen pallor as before. [...] Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some return of colour to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep. [...] Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright and seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal."

17 September - "I am getting so strong again that I hardly know myself. [...] I go to bed now without any fear of sleep. [...] I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, [...] her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a moment or two. The room and all round seemed to spin round.[...] I tried to stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear mother's poor body, which seemed to grow cold already—for her dear heart had ceased to beat—weighed me down; and I remembered no more for a while. The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered consciousness again. [...] I was dazed and stupid with pain and terror and weakness, [...] I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night."

18 September - "By her side lay Lucy, with face white and still more drawn. The flowers which had been round her neck we found upon her mother's bosom, and her throat was bare, showing the two little wounds which we had noticed before, but looking horribly white and mangled. [...] I knew—as he knew—that it was a stand-up fight with death, [...] Lucy's heart beat a trifle more audibly to the stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible movement. [...] She was still unconscious, and was quite as bad as, if not worse than, we had ever seen her. [...] though plenty of blood went into her veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as on the other occasions. Her struggle back into life was something frightful to see and hear. However, the action of both heart and lungs improved, and Van Helsing made a subcutaneous injection of morphia, as before, and with good effect. Her faint became a profound slumber."

19 September - "she slept fitfully, being always afraid to sleep, and something weaker when she woke from it. [...] She was hardly able to turn her head, and the little nourishment which she could take seemed to do her no good. At times she slept, and both Van Helsing and I noticed the difference in her, between sleeping and waking. Whilst asleep she looked stronger, although more haggard, and her breathing was softer; her open mouth showed the pale gums drawn back from the teeth, which thus looked positively longer and sharper than usual; when she woke the softness of her eyes evidently changed the expression, for she looked her own self, although a dying one. [...] I fear that to-morrow will end our watching, for the shock has been too great; the poor child cannot rally."

20 September - "Lucy's face, which lay in her pillow, almost whiter than the lawn. [...] Lucy was breathing somewhat stertorously, and her face was at its worst, [...] She took but a little [food], and that languidly. There did not seem to be with her now the unconscious struggle for life and strength that had hitherto so marked her illness. [...] The wounds on the throat had absolutely disappeared. [...] Lucy's breathing became stertorous again, and all at once it ceased."

During September all the green is decidedly relative. But she does have some times when she's showing improvement, and the green shows that she's beginning to recover on those days. Her worse days get significantly worse, though. After the 7th, every attack would have killed her if not for another transfusion, and the effectiveness of those decrease each time. Her few days of respite are not enough to heal her, and despite receiving a fourth transfusion on the 19th, she is unable to recover and dies the next day.

She also begins to turn into a vampire. I was running out of space, and it's not quite the same thing as her declining health, so I didn't list all the relevant quotes above for those, but Jack first mentioned her teeth on the 10th, and by the 20th he was talking a lot about them and her switch between a more human and more vampiric state, back and forth (though he didn't know to call it that).

#dracula daily #lucy westenra #this is mainly for personal reference but use it as you like #health tracker

149 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 5 months

Note

SMOOOOCHES!!! hello sweetheart!! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

I hope you’ve been well since the last time I came on here!! (little update on my test results: everything came back clean except a few things came back indecisive but nothing to worry about! Chronic illness doesn’t seem to be getting any worse as of right now.) but asides from that here’s a little drabble as I was re-reading a few of my earlier drabbles from last year!

We know fragile!reader despises examinations and having to endure the painful injections every few weeks when Dottore batches up a new medicine. However, what if it backfires completely? Causing fragile!reader to be in an even weaker condition, barely able to move and clinging onto Dottore as tightly as they can. Perhaps running a fever, feeling miserable as they feel as if though their whole body is being pricked by thousands of needles as they shake from their fever. Dottore would try his best to not let his emotions show, but deep down he’s panicking and trying to figure out how he can cancel out the current “medicine” running through their body. To say Dottore feels guilt is an understatement, he knows that any medicine that they take can easily backfire quickly, but he never would’ve thought the symptoms would be so severe. :( once their condition stabilizes I like to think Dottore keeps them close for at least a few days, just to make sure everything is fine. Even if it means they’ll be all clingy to him, he’d rather they be safe and alive rather than induced in a coma once again.

A bit of fluff: I like to think Zandy definitely also tries to cheer you up after the whole ordeal. He’s not sure why you weren’t visiting or reading books to him anymore, other than that “you were busy with Dottore”, is what you had told him. But even the little baby knows you look more weaker (even if it’s been a few days, your condition had still worsened anyways). So perhaps he tries to draw you adorable silly drawings, and also show you his “safe” experiments. (Lest he get a scolding from Zandik or the clones again…)

‘m giving you so many chu chus n cuddles like always smooches hehe gonna make your cheeks all rosy pinky! <33 I hope you have a lovely day n spend it with a smile like always!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon! ౨ৎ

HELLO MY DEAR 🎐 ANON!! Ahh I'm so glad your results were okay! I'm so happy for you and for getting through all of this! *hugs you* And I LOVE this brainrot! ❤️ I've always brainrotted about this idea hehe because angst of Dottore failing... teehee.

Dottore, being the skilled scholar he is, never fails to concoct new medications and treatments for you in hopes of creating something that sticks, along with the actual cure. These meds always go through a few rounds of testing, on his experiments of course (as you said before) but sometimes there is only so little that can be done. After all, your body is very different from the average person's. So, there have been times when the things he's given you didn't agree with your body very well, but they were never anything drastic. However, that was until this instance.

Dottore is a confident man. He's smart, he plans ten steps ahead, and things always go exactly as he orchestrated or predicted them to. So that's why he expected nothing different to be with this batch, maybe you'd have a few minor side effects that he'd note and so on, but he expected you to be fine, to then whine about how all of this was so much work, and he'd only hum at your complains to which you'd pout at. In the beginning, you seemed fine. Looked fine, your vitals were fine. But in a matter of minutes, when you got off the operating table, all of that changed, as dizziness and blurriness.

You tried to wave off Dottore's concern, observing your worsened state immediately, but your resistance was futile as your knees buckled, though your husband caught you before you could fall. Your skin was on fire, sapping away your strength as you couldn't even bring your hand up to stop your hacking and coughing. You try to speak but everything hurts far too much for you to muster your words, and you can barely process the muffled voices, footsteps against the floor, and hands running over your body (he must have called a few segments in too.) You pass out soon after, unable to see the blank look on Dottore's face, how his hands don't shake, how he is unfaltering and flawless in his steady work to counteract what he put in his body. Unable to see what only you can see - what he's really feeling underneath everything.

You don't wake up until a few days later, to which Dottore spent trying to figure out where he went wrong constructing this medication. If only he had been more careful, if he had run more tests, perhaps this may not have happened. Perhaps he wouldn't be the cause of your even weaker state. But even when you wake up, you just smile at him, assuring him that you're okay. You'd never blame him. Even though this was all this fault. He despises it sometimes, how you're so kind and forgiving. It's a weakness.

Sure, Dottore has a lot of work to be done, and having you around so much serves as a distraction to his work... but he'll let it slide. Just for a bit. At least it is a reminder to him that you're not permanently sleeping again.

Zandy, despite being left out of the loop many times, mostly due to your insistence that he not be burdened with your own troubles, can still sense something is wrong after a while. Yes, he's a child, but he's a rather smart one. And a very attentive one when it comes to his favorite person, you. He can see how much time you spend for "check-ups" with the segments and Prime now, far more than what it used to be... how you always look exhausted but force yourself to perk up and smile around him, assuring him you'll play with him "next time", even though numerous "next times" have passed. Zandy doesn't know the exact details, but that's okay, he can see what you're going through. So obviously he's going to try and make you smile! In the time he's not with you, he spends it doing all the things you like to do too. Drawing you two together of course, in a happy little house in Sumeru where the two of you play outside together all day with no worries! Maybe he even tried baking by himself to surprise you with something yummy (quickly stopped by a segment before he hurt himself or perhaps blew up the lab.) Maybe the child should take up sewing... maybe he can sew a little Puffttore squish ball for you! Oh, but you always told him to stay away from needles... well, it's okay if you don't find out until after the fact, right?

#smooches talks #🎐 anon #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #zandy bb <3 #giving you a million more chu chus!! and cuddles!!#i always luv luv ur brainrots!#only one post for tonight bc im eepy

75 notes · View notes

angryschnauzer · 2 months

Text

Update 3th April 2024

How are we into the 4th month of the year already? This year is slipping away so quickly. Anyway, my husband finished Radiotherapy mid Feb, had a few weeks off treatment, and is now on 6 cycles of strong chemotherapy. He has 5 days on tablet dose, then 23 days off, so its a 4 week cycle. We had an update meeting with his Neurologist. The tumour hasn't started to grow back, but we've got to add a 'yet' to that. The type of brain tumour (Glioblastoma) is an incredibly agressive form of brain cancer, spreading tendrils out into the crevices of the brain that there is never any way of scooping the whole thing out and getting every last bit with surgery. Thus the Radiotherapy and chemotherapy to try and blast - i cant think of a better word - as much remaining cancer as it can. He'll have regular MRI's to monitor any regrowth etc, and as he's mid 40's if he's strong enough he can have surgery again.

So now we're at the start of April and to be honest the last three months have been horrible. At the start of the year i caught a cough that developed into Bronchitis, and then by mid March i was so ill it was Pneumonia. When Hubby was on his 'rest' weeks post radiotherapy he was unable to rest as he had to help me care for our son. Sidenote; our Son's type 1 diabetes has been somewhat out of control during this time too. Two weeks ago i was admitted to the emergency dept at Hospital with chest pains. Hardly surprising with the amount of stress i'm under, but it turned out to be caused by bruising my internal chest muscles from coughing so much due to the pneumonia. Doctors told me i must rest. Well, the universe decided it didn't like that option and the day after Hubby went down with a cold/flu like virus, and because of his cancer treatment all but destroying his immune system, it's knocked him sideways. We're now 10 days later and its still in full force. I had to take him to the cancer hospital yesterday to have blood tests to ensure it hadn't turned bacterial (it hasn't) but we've been having awful nights sleep for the both of us which means neither of us are recovering at a rate we need.

So that's were we're at. Its just a massive cycle of illness followed by illness and it feels like we can't get out of it.

51 notes · View notes

seraphsfire · 9 months

Text

Life situation & kitty update! Help me stay in Seattle instead of being forced to go to wyoming

Hello! I was able to make rent this month, but so far I cannot make rent for next month.

Ko-fi has been holding donations since paypal has been flagging them as "income" so that no longer works.

If you would like to help me out using paypal, the link is HERE. I will look into other venmo and cashapp. you can also reach out for a commission! If you donated via paypal and would like me to draw you a little something in thanks, please let me know!

I also put together an AMAZON WISH LIST , most is things for the kitties or food and some non-essentials / self care things for the hell of it that are things i haven't been able to buy myself for a while. Other than rent, kitty supplies and food are what I spend most $ on.

More on what I'm facing and what my kitties need:

about the kitties:

My sweet kitty Jade, needs a steroidal shot for her dermatitis. She should have gotten another one on the 25th, but I had no money to take her to the vet and she started ripping her fur out and made big, golf-ball sized spots completely bald on her armpit and chest :'( We put her on benadryl, moisturized her, and gave her a little jacket thing to help but I can tell she's really uncomfortable and really needs a vet visit to get that. it's $80 just to visit my vet and i'm sure the shot could be anywhere from 10-40 dollars, I really don't know. She's not in danger of pulling huge chunks of fur out thanks to the little jacket but she's really not happy and it makes me so sad.

About my situation (kind of long, sorry):

My Parents (mostly my mom; it's very hard to get responses from my dad) gave me rent money for September, but then made it clear that she will no longer help me financially under any circumstance if I want to "choose" to live in Seattle, then I'm essentially on my own. She doesn't want to give me money because she doesn't want ours to be a "transactional-based relationship" (after spending my entire childhood having them pressure me to move out on my own)

My dad is convinced that since Seattle is a city, it is very unsafe (and too full of Democrats) and that we would be safer living in their small town of Pavilion, Wyoming--which is literally just like, a few very spaced out neighborhoods. The nearest actual town is a 30 minute drive, and it's not very big either, and I don't drive. I would be snowed in *with them* for 4+ MONTHS every year, and every summer unable to leave the house for weeks because of the heat.

My dad has told my sister and I that if we choose to live right next to them, where they could have complete control over our lives, they would even buy us a house--but because we're not doing that, they refuse to support us in the life we've chosen for ourselves. They do not see the cruelty in this and think we are being nonsensical staying somewhere like Seattle which is "dangerous" and they do not like that it is full of non-republicans. I came out as queer in 2016, something which they have never spoken about since. I would likely be the only (out) queer person for MILES, and I don't feel like being the guinea pig for whether the anti-gay people there are the kind who ignore you or the kind who will hatecrime/kill you (:

Since I'd be at zero in my bank account in wyoming, they would have complete control over what I eat (not fun since I have a messed up digestion), clothes I buy, where I go, and how I behave just like they did when I was a child, or they'll start taking things away hoping that "tough love" will work. (it just made me mentally ill lol)

If I start a job in a week and a half I might be okay, but if I can't start until after that I won't have enough for October rent. I have one interview coming up but the future is still very up in the air.

#people in need #signal boost #haha im scared #thank u

85 notes · View notes

frodo-a-gogo · 11 days

Note

I’m sorry!! I need to know… will you continue your relapse comic???

Yes 100 percent yes. If u have only seen it on tumblr check out my twitter (@emilyriordan5) where ive been updating more pages past what ive posted here. I had been doing a page a week or a page every 2 or 3 days depending on how impatient i got lol, but in the past few weeks i took a break from updating cus 1. Im visiting a friend in another country r now 2. My part time job upped my hours and i wanna prioritize that cus i need the scratch 3. The next few months im gonna be working very hard on some animation production projects to fix my portfolio up to apply for a fellowship (ill be posting the work i do on that btw) 4. The next few months I'll also probs be very preoccupied with figuring out some stuff for a medical thing. 5. Family stüff

Ill be posting more pages soon tho, i have some partially finished ones i intend to polish as im traveling back home. The comic itself is gonna be 60 pages or so (it may balloon out to like 70, i keep on finding stuff to add lol) script is complete, thumbnail are partially complete etc.

There's no way in hell im not finishing this, i love the script too much and i wanna share it in the optimal way as a lot of it is contingent on visual communication. If i ever do give up the ghost on this project id probably at least post the script so ppl would know where i was going with the comic, but my intention as of right now is to complete it at my own pace. I thank you for your patience and interest!

#if u had asked me 2 weeks ago about this i also probably would have told u this comic was gonna be my last disco thing #at least for a while #but ive just started scripting a sapphic disco zine #working title 'very futuristic: a girl-liker zine' (thnx lana)#yes its gonna be a little sweet and a little spicy #mostly started it to experiement w art subjecta i never delve into #also to study anatomy and pose/body interaction #that one's gonna be a long time coming tho (lol) big backburner thing #but yeah #disco elysium #asks

32 notes · View notes

pommunist · 3 months

Note

kind of feeling like the rest of the fandom just wants french fans to shut up and leave already :|... why should we be trusting quackity when he hasnt even given any more updates on anything. ("ill keep you updated everyone" -quackity (lying) on his stream addressing issues). "trust that theyre working on it!!!" is starting to feel more and more like people are actually meaning "omg stop complaining so much!!! youre ruining my enjoyment".

of course the new announcements feel like damage control why would we expect anything else? they refuse to talk about anything and start to dangle shiny new things in front of the rest of the fandom so they get distracted from french complaints. why should we trust that anything is happening when the syndicat says that the fired admins havent even been contacted by anyone after more than a week?

im so done at this point :|. i cant even lurk on twitter anymore because all the french accounts i looked at either went inactive, private, or deactivated entirely because of how many death threats they were getting for daring to expect more of quackity.

i dont necessarily think Q was lying or is trying to sweep the situation under the rug but yeah ! people can and SHOULD be wanting more communication and transparency

the « stop complaining and trust bc you’re just spreading negativity » mindset that im sometimes seeing is driving me INSANE like ?? this isn’t discourse or drama it’s a workers rights violation 😳 personally what is ruining my enjoyment of the server is knowing that the characters and story ive loved for months was built on the exploitation of people who also loved the project. that and the fact that it seems like the community im a part of was a second thought the whole time 😳

and this isn’t only a french issue like yes most of the ex admins who spoke up were french but the issues impact every community !

I know that since this is a BIG issue it’s gonna take time to solve and i can even understand keeping the server running but introducing so many new people + an awards event right now is so idk….

I also feel bad for the korean and german creators who are coming in at such a bad timing

and yes broke my heart seeing the admins who spoke up as well as big twitter accounts from qsmptwt having to stop expressing themselves/receive crazy amounts of hate/deactivate bc they’re so done with the situation and receiving so few support

#qsmp discourse #quackity neg #idk tagging just in case #some q fans are so parasocial it’s impacting negatively the qsmp fandom view of him

32 notes · View notes

mandomaterial · 1 year

Text

Forgotten pt.6

Pairing: Tonowari x Metkayina!reader

Wordcount: 3.4K

Warnings: slightly feral mc, needles, humans, and i think that’s it. Maybe a little angst?

Notes: sorry that this took so long- i had a little bitta writers block… but i think this is a nice chapter btw the new guy is an oc so he isn’t in the avatar franchise :3 please leave some suggestions about what should happen to the reader.and ill try to update every week or so! Pics not mine, credit to the owners!

Masterlist /// Previous /// Next

Over the next few days the young human boy, Spider visited you every day. The two of you talked about anything and everything, it was very comforting to have someone around that spoke your language.

You were curious about him, so you asked lots of intricate questions. Why was he here? What’s his connection to the forest Na’vi? How did he speak your language so well, he even had a forest accent.

He answered most of them with enthusiasm. Telling you the story of him spending a lot of time with the sully kids and growing up in the Omatikaya clan, being there for all the events and learning their ways.

Spider explained that his father had been killed by Jake Sully's mate, Neytiri, in the first sky people war, but scientists had made an avatar for him a few years ago and inserted a chip that had a copy of his father's mind on it. You truly struggled to grasp the concept so he tried to explain it like he was reborn into the new avatar body after his death, when he died, but he was already twenty years old; you understood better but it still confused you at times.

Spider also tried asking you simple questions first and when you answered all of them he started coming out of his shell; starting to ask bolder questions. He asked about your family and your life as tsakìk of the Metkayina. How was your life different from the forest people’s? What were the animals like? What did you eat?

You happily started telling him stories of the metkayina traditions and the Iknimaya, where you had to bond with a tsurak and complete several trials with your spirit sibling to earn your place amongst the people. Even telling him that you struggled immensely when you had to bond with the wild beast and that you preferred the tasks with your spirit sister a lot more.

You told him many stories about you and your sister, Ronal, when you were training to become tsahìk; how much trouble you’d get yourself in with her, doing whatever teenagers did. Your favorite ones though were the ones where she’d cover for you when you snuck away with the handsome, brave, and charming young man you’d had a crush on; once you’d gotten caught with him past your curfew and your father threatened him for at least half an hour and scared him half to death. You giggled as you remembered. You continued that that boy was now your mate and father of your children.

He in return asked about your children, being curious about them. Starting with your eldest, your son A'onung, you described him as a brave troublemaker; he always hung out with his friends and was very caring toward his sister, even if he didn’t like showing it. A'onung loved his spirit brother as well and they’d spend a lot of time together once the tulkun returned.

Spider continued asking about your daughter; Tsireya. You started by telling him that she was a truly good-hearted and beautiful young lady who loved dancing and performing. She’s always be a performer when the tribe held celebrations or spiritual rituals. From time to time, you would teach her how to prepare medical remedies or how to lead sacred rituals. She was growing up so quickly and from what you’d seen, she had her eye on the youngest sully boy; Lo'ak.

Once you said that spider instantly asked how the sully's were doing. It didn’t surprise you, after all, they were kind of his family. You thought about it for a few seconds and then decided to tell him about how Lo'ak and A'onung went outside the reef. You’d never been so angry at A'onung in your life! Leading the poor boy out and stranding him there; who knows what could have happened? But after that little stunt, the boys seemed to get along better- even going as far as to say that they had become friends.

Next was the story about how Jake learned to ride a tsurak. It took a while because he didn’t want to start with an ilu; it would have hurt his pride too much. You both giggled. Jake had tried to tie his hand to the saddle grip but even that failed and he was left with some nasty leather burns. Spider confirmed that to Jake, like all men, his pride was one of the most important things.

Neytiri was a skilled warrior; so she decided to join the hunters. At first, she was just tasked with catching fish, but she wanted to hunt something bigger. So she forcefully made her place known amongst the others when she came back with a quite large deep-sea creature.

Spider and you talked for hours upon hours almost every day until you sent him off to bed. Then you were let alone in the dark room, having no items of comfort to keep you company. You thought about asking Spider for a few things, but you didn’t want to get him in trouble so you kept your lips sealed.

In the dark, the only thing that plagued your mind was your old life. The life you had just a little while ago. Oh how you wished you could return; not even getting the chance to tell your mate that you were with child again. What would happen if you didn’t return? How would you return? Your heart clenched and you placed your hand on your lower abdomen gently, hoping to comfort yourself and your baby as you tried to sleep.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After you had sent Spider away, he decided to go talk to his father again. He’d seen how miserable you were in that tiny cell; you’d always curl up in a corner, trying to keep warm in the night. His mind was troubled with thoughts and just as he turned the corner to his father’s quarters, he bumped into someone. He looked up, wanting to apologize, and saw the familiar figure.

“Whatcha' doin' here kid?” Quaritch questioned while placing his hands on his hips, cocking his head to the side, and giving his son a questioning look.

“Uh- well… I wanted to talk to you,” he answered, “about the different room…”

Spider awkwardly moved his arms from side to side, looking away, not knowing what to do.

“Heh- I was just about to tell you the news,” he chuckled “I talked to some people and uuuh- told them to move her closer so that I can ‘keep an eye on her’” his fingers did little air quotes as he said it with a light mocking tone in his voice.

Spider's eyes lit up just a bit and he gave his father a genuine smile “Thanks Dad”

“No problem, kiddo” Quaritch sighed, a good feeling bubbling inside him at the thought of making his son happy; truly a strange feeling. He watched as Spider shuffled away, looking over his shoulder back at him, once or twice, cracking a smile as he turned the corner.

Spider had a little spring in his step; he couldn’t wait to tell you tomorrow! He continued thinking about what else he could do to bring you comfort. Maybe he’d ask what your favorite food was and get it when he joined his father on a mission again or he could ask if you’d like to do something like weaving or seeing, he could easily find the materials for that.

He finally wanted to see you smile; he wanted to see you happy for a change.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The morning came and you were blinded by the bright light flickering on in the cell; same as ever. You tried to shield your eyes by covering them with your arm, trying to get a little more rest. Just then a wave of despair washed over you. You wanted to go home; you wanted to return to your family; to your children.

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over the edge and rolling down your cheeks. You tried rubbing them away but that only man’s it worse; all your locked-up feelings spilled over. Sitting up you curled up against the wall, not knowing what to do. Would they ever let you go? Would you have to stay in this horrible room forever? These thoughts made your heart crack and crumble. You tried so hard to stay strong; for yourself and the little life growing within your body, but it was all for nothing. Nothing had changed and you don’t even know for how long you’d been kept here. Too long. Something needed to change.

Suddenly your anguish turned to anger; it was like a feral beast woke inside you. Pushing yourself up to your feet you, took a few steps around the room, observing it once more like the thousands of times you’d done before, your tails swishing dangerously behind you. The room had one wall that looked different, similar to the water, you could see your reflection. It was so clear and you’d never seen something like it before. There had to be a reason why it was there. Could something be behind it? You couldn’t know for sure but as you walked closer and closer, you’d started bearing your fangs and claws. Just like that, you charged against the wall, banging your fists on it.

Little sounds came from behind the wall. Hah- so there was something there and you’d given it quite a scare. You continued, trying to get more reactions from the thing that hid behind the wall. This went on for quite a while until you heard the mechanical door open. Thinking it was the human boy, you lowered your guard. Big mistake. Six human soldiers came in and you started hissing again, taking a defensive stance. They walked over with hurried steps, taking your personal space. As one tried to touch you you pushed him away, sending him flying across the room. The others made quick pace and tried binding your wrists. You were busy shoving off two humans as a third grabbed your arm and fastened the orange cuff. Knowing what would come next you tried to get them all off you, never holding your hands close in fear of them being bound again.

It was no use, soon someone grabbed your second arm and pulled it behind your back, forcing the second cuff around your wrist, locking them together. You yelled and screamed as you tried to escape their clutches only to feel a sharp sting on the side of your neck. Suddenly you felt ever so drowsy, your eyes closing as if you had no control over them. Sinking to the floor, calming down you saw that the humans circled around you, talking. Then your eyelids fell shut and you lost consciousness.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As soon as you had lost consciousness the soldiers calmed down. “So uh- what are we supposed to do with her now?” one asked. “They told us to just knock her out before something happens- wait a sec il call someone.” another answered. While he talked the others observed you. You looked different from the recoms; you were a lighter color and had a different body. They all looked at you weirdly, one even nudging you with their foot until they heard their colleague hang up the phone.

“I asked around and the lab rats said that they wanna have her, so I guess we’ll bring her there,” he claimed while shrugging his shoulders. “You two, go get a cart to load her up. I ain’t carrying that thing.”

Just as told, two left and came back a few minutes later with some sort of transportation device. They parked it next to you and awkwardly tried to lift you onto it. Finally, they managed by holding you under your arms and dragging you over the rough surface, scratching your back as they did so. When you were finally on the cart the first man turned around and motioned for the others to follow him. It wasn’t long until the group reached the large metal door that closed off the science lab from the outside.

One of the soldiers went up to the touchpad, silently punching in the code to make the door open. The cart wasn’t pushed in first, being followed by the other men. They’d not been here often and this place always put them on edge, for they didn’t know what would happen. Your turquoise skin glistened under the fluorescent lights of the lab, pulling all the attention towards you.

Just then a tall scientist in a pristine long white lab coat came into view.

The head scientist rubbed his hands together with glee as he looked at the unconscious Na'vi. "This is it," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "This is what we've been waiting for.” he looked around the little crowd of soldiers “Thanks for bringing her here, dismissed.”

They all gave him a little salute, turning to walk out again, but the last one of the group gave the scientists a dirty look. They shouldn’t be taking orders from a nerdy lab rat, he scoffed silently.

The man was still standing over you, inspecting your physical form. You’d been the first Na’vi of a different species to enter his workspace and he was definitely looking forward to running some tests, so he told his team to help him put you on one of the large examination tables. It took quite a few people but once up there they began checking your vitals.

As the head scientist listened for your heartbeat, he heard his name being called out.

“Dr. Matthew! A call just came in and General Ardmore is on her way to the lab to discuss something.” The younger scientist shouted as she ran over to the table. Dr. Matthew rose to his full height, placing the stethoscope to the side, and smoothing out his lab coat. “Did the general say what she wanted to discuss?” He asked with a bitter tone in his voice. He didn’t like when people messed with his work or gave him instructions on how and what to research. He didn’t become a top scientist only to be given orders by someone who doesn’t even understand his work.

“N-no… she didn’t specify…” the young woman said. Matthew noticed that she wasn’t on his usual team and she had a short lab coat, which meant that she was still studying. Could she be an intern? He thought to himself. So he skied “I haven’t seen you here a lot, are you an intern?”

“Oh- y-yea I just transferred from communications… seems they put me in the wrong unit when I came here.” She stuttered, avoiding eye contact with the experienced lab leader.

He hummed in response, walking past her to greet the general at the door. Just as he unlocked it he could see the frightening woman turn the corner. Putting his hands on his hips and slapping a smile on his face, he called out to her.

“General Ardmore! How nice of you to visit my lab. Can I help you with anything?” He asked with a smirk glued to his face, a slightly annoyed tone in his voice.

“I just got the news that the new specimen was delivered to you. What’s that about, I thought I told them to keep her in her cell,” she replied sternly.

The doctor sighed “Look, she went feral for a sec there and they asked me if I wanted her. Of course, I said yes! Do you know what we could do with her? We can sample her DNA and grow new avatars that are adaptable to water? And- there’s such a difference in species. You should see her- she, she looks completely different! Different body structure and everything!” he started rambling, clearly excited about the new discoveries he was going to make.

“Listen, I don’t care about all your sciency stuff alright? I need to make sure that we meet our clients' demands and that you don’t spend all your time and resources on your silly little avatar program. That feral beast belongs dead- six feet under! What are you going to do when she wakes up and goes wild again huh?” She prodded. To be honest, Dr. Matthew hadn’t thought about that, so he quickly tried to come up with something.

“Uhhh- uh well give her sedatives! Make sure she stays calm. But then again…” he started thinking.

“But then she won't be able to cooperate.” She finished for him.

“Yea… that…” he raised his hand to his chin and thought for a bit “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out”

The general sighed and looked around the lab, seeming just the tiniest bit of you, laying on the table, motionless.

“You better, and don’t spend all your time on that thing. You hear me, doctor?”

“Yes ma’am. Will do.”

“Good. I'll leave you to it. I'll check in now and then to keep an eye on you understand?”

“All clear.” He followed up with a little two-finger salute as she turned on her heels and walked off, not looking back even once. Matthew let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, relieved that he managed to get her off his back. Even this was one of the more gentle encounters he had with her. Tough woman.

He walked past the open lab doors once more, closer to you. Someone handed him a checkboard that had all your vitals on it. What an efficient team he had. He looked over it with care, checking for anything abnormal but everything seemed fine. His eyes slowly shifted from the paper to your unconscious form. You were so mysterious and he had never wanted to examine something this much before. He had grown up, learning about the Pandora project and the Avatar program. He read all the books and studied hard just to be here, and now he was the first to see a new species of the indigenous people of the foreign planet. He was just itching to start running tests.

But he didn’t know where to start. What should he do first? He ran a hand through his hair, hoping t come up with a plan. In the end, he decided it was best to start fresh tomorrow. He made sure that the sedative was dosed correctly so that you wouldn’t wake up for at least another day. Then he told his team to hit the hay and get some rest. After all, tomorrow he needed them to be sharp as a knife, as they would start their examinations.

He himself was the last to leave, taking one last look and finally locking up the lab. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow, but first, he had all night to organize his plans for you. Oh, how exciting!

#avatar 2 #avatar fic #avatar tonowari #avatar: the way of water #tonowari #tonowari x you #atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow tonowari #atwow x you #avatar x reader #avatar tsireya #avatar ao'nung #avatar #avatar fanfiction #tonowari x reader #tonowari angst #tonowari is a HUNK

141 notes · View notes