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hunnylagoon · 8 months

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Take Me to War

PT1 Friendly Fire

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

A writer, I think is someone who pays attention to the world. We are observers, it is in our nature to be off-putting and turn shallow things deep.

Premise: Your neighbour is becoming increasingly loud and you decide to do something about it.

PT 2 Here!

Two things I hate the most?

My neighbour and New York City.

They shared something in common, they never rest. I liked my quiet life in my small town until I was convinced that all of the greatest writers lived in the city, what a joke. I sold my virtue to move to New York and now my body burned with the shame of not belonging.

I worked as a journalist and in advertisement but it didn't fill the gaping mass that consumed me, I felt like a sellout so I quit to do freelance, and now I feel like even more of a sellout. Freelance is making me think that I hate ghostwriting more than I hate my neighbour and New York City.

It's like you do all of the work and get zero reward but I'm desperate to pay the bills and all that stuff I've been telling myself all my life 'I may never be a rich man but the rich man will never have me' well, the rich man most certainly had me. I was paid an almost criminal amount of money to pour my soul into art just for it to get stamped beneath a new name and make a gross income six times the size of what I sold it for.

I look for happiness everywhere but I do not find it. I search for it in things everyone seems to pry joy from; I go clubbing, walk in Central Park, and date around, but happiness doesn't seem to exist there for me.

I plead for it in my morning cups of tea with a spoonful of honey, the sunshine glittering in a puddle after a rainstorm, for a brief moment, it flickers in the light of my cinnamon-scented candle. The truth is I am almost comforted by my sadness and it is in my lowest moments that my creations are the most beautiful, it is like I am dead and I despise those who aren't for I enjoy the company of my silence more than anyone I have ever met.

It was my dream for my name to be above 'New York Times Best Selling Author' but instead, it is just my work beneath it and maybe that's why I'm so bitter.

Right now as I am trying to salvage the bits and pieces I was given by a washed-up pop star for her memoir my neighbour is screaming and laughing incoherently in their apartment, it makes me miss living in an actual house.

The noise usually started up when I would finish up my writing and get ready for bed, then it would go all the way through the night. The dumb fucker probably threw parties every single night; my roommate never faced an issue with this as she worked at a club and was usually working when the deafening noises would begin.

I on the other hand who lived in that apartment and worked from that apartment was always cursed to listen to the random thumps and spats of laughter that sounded all through the night. At least once a night when I'm sound asleep, I hear a bang against the wall and each time without fail, I'm brought awake with my heart thumping.

Trust me, I have retaliated.

On occasion when I'm sleep-deprived and at my absolute limit I'll bang on the walls, that only stops the noise for a minute. I've even complained to my landlord and that one week was heaven until it eased back to the clamour that I've almost grown used to.

Almost.

I still hate it.

I'm broken from my thoughts when my phone rings, it vibrates till it's almost at the edge of my desk and I feel for it; don't worry buddy, I wanna jump too. I read the caller ID and I almost wanted to gag, it was a woman from the publishing company who reached out to me and asked me to write Nicole Elliot's novel. Despite wanting to throw my phone against the wall to stop Noemi's constant checkups and get back at my neighbour while I'm at it, I answer the phone "Hey, Noemi!" I glance out the window where the winter sun has long set, leaving nothing but billboards, street lamps and neon signs to light up the New York night. Under the unforgiving lights I can barely make out the gentle snowfall.

"Hey," She draws it out and I can hear in her voice that she is smiling "I know it's a little late, just checking in, how is the draft coming along?" A loud thump sounds against my wall along with intolerant cackling "What's that?"

"Just some street noise," I dismiss "Anyways, the draft is coming along great, I'm a couple thousand words away from finishing it. I will of course send it to you and I would really love it if you could reach out to Nicole and ask for her opinion on it before I carry on with the final copy," I give a middle finger to my wall, even if my neighbour can't see me, it makes me feel a little bit more formidable "I did follow her outline, which was difficult but I think I salvaged it pretty well."

This time there is a yelp from my neighbour and what sounds like someone slamming their hands down onto a table, Noemi thankfully ignores it "You haven't been in touch with Nicole?"

My eyebrows furrow "She hasn't responded to any of my emails and she's been turning down all of our scheduled Zoom calls, so no, I have not been in touch with her."

"Weird," Noemi comments and there is a brief break of silence between us "She's been M.I.A on our end too," I could hear her scribble something down. "So can you get the draft to me by Friday?"

Two days? If I lock myself inside and don't see the sun then I totally can "Absolutely!" I do work better under a deadline.

"Great," She sounds almost relieved "We will hunt down Nicole, it would be nice to get her greenlight with this but whether or not she approves it, she has already signed off and it will be going to print."

"Okay," I fight the urge to respond with 'sick' or 'aight' because I'm an adult now and someone who is masquerading as a professional.

"Sorry, what was that you mentioned about an outline?" Noemi asks, she sounds more confused with each word "I wasn't aware Nicole made any-

She is swiftly cut off by a crash from the other side of my wall, when I say crash I mean it. It sounded like someone just bodied their car into drywall. My eyes went wide as I saw a crack splitting up my once pristine white wall. I hold my phone against my collarbone as I get up and pound my fist against the wall, giving it a kick for extra measure.

"Is everything alright?"

"Certainly," The nice thing about phone calls is that the person on the other end can't see your awkward habits or subtle outbursts (Or neighbours breaking through your shared wall). After I hit the wall, everything went silent for just a second before laughter sounded heavily from multiple people. "Noemi, thank you for sourcing me out to write this, I am really grateful for this opportunity I will send you that draft on Friday." I try to wrap up the call but she speaks up.

"Well, I've read your work and I was very impressed, I trust you will do well with this. Sorry to have called you so late-

"Thanks, have a nice night now!" I'm talking faster than I can even think, the only thing in my head is the fact that my neighbour is slowly deteriorating my wall.

"Wait-

Before Noemi can finish her sentence, I've hung up the phone. I'm leaning back in my cushy office chair, hands gripping my hair as I stare down the newly formed crack in the wall. I don't entirely like to be confrontational, even in school I hated drama, but I was beginning to think it was necessary.

I saved the progress I had made on the memoir and pushed myself up from my desk. I was clad in nothing more than a t-shirt and some plaid pants, it was my writing attire and in the moment I didn't care much to make a good first impression. It was fucking freezing the second I got up from my desk.

The moulding on my bedroom window was broken which allowed the frigid New York air to slip into my room and make me shiver with each breath. At my desk, I would usually have a throw blanket to shroud my freezing body but the moment I discarded it, I felt regret. I almost wanted to wrap myself in it to confront my neighbour but the pyjamas alone didn't help me look tough.

I did however shove my feet into some cow slippers and march right up to their apartment.

Apartment 2D stood in front of me, the pastel blue door making me angrier with every second that I looked at it. I rapped my knuckles on the wood and crossed my arms to stop me from shuddering.

My nerves built up as I slowly heard a door within the apartment shut followed by footsteps leading to the door. I would just ask them politely to quiet down and calmly work on a way to fix the shared wall that they are slowly ruining.

The door opens and staring me down is a woman. I had expected it to be a man to be truthful. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the colour teetered on the verge of auburn and brown. The woman is clad in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, it's almost parallel to my outfit.

"You need to be quiet," I say the first words that come to mind "And stop assaulting my fucking wall."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "Are you apartment 3D?" She asks to which I nod "I knew you would be stopping by soon." She has this sheepish and almost sardonic smile on her face and despite the amusement she's portraying I can see sadness brewing in her green eyes like a storm.

"I don't know what you're doing in there where you are up all night, I don't even have a clue how you sleep and work with all this time to spare to be a nuisance." I say and then swiftly feel the urge to backtrack "I'm sorry, that was a little rude, but mate, I can't sleep or work when you're being loud doing whatever you do."

"Fuck," She mutters looking back into her apartment and then at me "I'm sorry, I'll keep it down."

"What about the wall?"

Her eyes look me up and down, settling on my cow slippers "I'll find someone to fix the wall."

I press my lips tight together, looking dead into her eyes, scraping my brain for something else to say. It was almost like I wanted to fight. I had expected this to be a full-out conversation that ended in yelling but god she was pretty and she was telling me just what I wanted. "Okay."

"Okay?"

I regard her once more with what I assume is a cold glare before ushering back into my apartment and slamming the door behind me, the whole time, my neighbour watches me from her doorway.

That was the first night of uninterrupted sleep I'd had in a month.

I woke up earlier than I would've liked when my roommate Margot came home from work at 4:56 on the dot. She made sure to slam every single door and cupboard before throwing herself onto her bed in all of her makeup and musty clothes that had to endure whatever happens at a nightclub between the hours of 8 pm and 4 am, which I can't imagine is very clean.

Still, even though I was a little ahead of schedule I fell into my morning routine. It started with ignoring my phone, this was followed by a mug of Bengal spice tea with a teaspoon of honey and a splash of cream.

Sometimes I would curl up on the couch, though it snowed last night and I loved fresh snow. Freshly fallen snow absorbed sound, it was like soundproofing for the earth. There wasn't anything like the rare peace you could find in New York. I figured I would have my morning tea on the fire escape.

My peaceful image was destroyed the second I pried my window open and crawled through I was hit with the intense smell of pot. "Shit," I mutter, instinctively wafting the scent away from my nose.

"Sorry, man," I see my neighbour leaning against the railing of the fire escape, nursing a joint. It hadn't crossed my mind that I shared a level of the fire escape with her, I had never seen her out here but now the smell of weed that drifted through the damaged moulding on my window made sense, I had always assumed it to be Margot.

"Joint for breakfast?" I ask, half-joking. A dusting of powdery snow adorns each step and railing, creating a delicate layer of white that contrasts with the industrial gray of the metal though it looks like my neighbour has pushed all of the snow off the platform.

"Nah, for dinner I guess, it helps me sleep," She's in the same outfit from last night, except her hair is now loose around her face and she threw a hoodie over her tanktop.

I furrow my eyebrows "You've been up all night?" The slight tension from the previous night has dissolved completely.

"Yeah," She says it like it was a stupid question and it partially was but I hadn't stayed up that late since New Year only because I was the designated driver and was in charge of getting everyone home safe. "I don't sleep much, that's probably why I keep you up all night."

I mean, I'd let her keep me up in other ways "Honestly, I've gotten used to it, it's almost like white noise." I try to sympathize even if it isn’t necessarily true.

"Next time I'm loud, you have every right to bang on my door and chew me out." She takes a drag from her joint and I watch as the smoke escapes her lips, her cheeks tinted pink from the cold.

"Good to know," I glance behind her at the open window and all I see are purple LED lights cutting through the darkness of her apartment. "Now I know that we share a fire escape I'll just crawl through your window and yell at you that way," I joke, taking a sip from my snoopy mug.

This makes her laugh in the slightest, she crushes what remains of her joint on the cold railing and tosses the bud into the pot of a dead plant that's covered in snow and has lived on this fire escape long before I moved in; one time I just about removed it but I felt bad, it's like I was evicting it from its rightful home "Feel free."

"Am I allowed to ask why you're up all night breaking the sound barriers?" I ask, pulling my fuzzy robe tighter around my body to fight the bitter air. "Are you the leader of a cult? Would it be better for the world in the long run if I push you right now?"

The corners of her lips curl up into a smile once again "You've figured me out, just know I've got some big plans with Koolaid," She plays into my teasing.

"It was flavour-aid, actually." I don't know why I said that.

"What the fuck is flavour-aid?"

"Koolaid basically," Silence stretches between us "So what do you actually do all night?"

"It's a bit complicated," She says, of course, it was complicated. "I work from home," She couldn't do something normal, she probably did voice acting or ran a podcast or some weird shit like that.

"Sick," Don't worry, I made myself cringe when I said that too "I work from home too."

"Yeah, you said something about work last night, are you in marketing?"

I shake my head "I'm a writer," every time I tell someone that, I feel a twinge of embarrassment. I know it wasn't a noble career like my parents had hounded me over, but it felt noble to me. I had two absent parents and was raised by a pack of wolves, I would devour as much food as fast as I could because I didn't know when I would be eating next. I was far too emotional to be around all of the narcissists who preferred their own faces to my company, the only friend I had was the written word.

Since then I have been serving my soul up to strangers through word documents.

The thought makes me homesick for the arms that did not hold me and I truly expect my neighbour to make a mockery of me, the way others have. The way they've told me 'It's a tough industry but hang in there!' and pat me on the back like I'm a hopeful child clinging to her mother's skirts.

"That's really cool," She smiles while she gazes out to the skyline, I can see her perfect side profile and ski-slope nose "I wanted to be a writer, I thought myself to be a poet, and then I thought myself to be a scientist and wanted to be an astronaut. Now, I'm here."

"Where's here exactly?"

"Working things out, figure it out as I go," She shrugs like she is unsure of her answer.

I think it's beautiful how everything around me has been touched by human hands and carries so much history. For a quick moment, my mind wonders to those who built this building, the calloused hands that crafted the iron railing and now my neighbour who was leaning against it. "What's the end goal with this whole freefall thing?"

"To make it out alive."

"And your name?"

"It's Ellie."

That night Ellie stuck to being quiet as she promised. The next night was a different story. I was so close to finishing the draft of Nicole Elliot's memoir and was praying that the deadline would pass with no issue.

However, the noise began again. I was coming around to like Ellie and I didn't want to go yell at her again so I shoved my headphones in and turned up my playlist as loud as I could. There is no song I can blast in my headphones to drown it out.

She did say that the next time I was loud I could come and chew her out, I wouldn't do that; I would just knock on her door and quickly tell her that she was being too loud, and then we would both carry on with our respective work.

I stopped in front of the smooth door and raised my hand to knock. Ellie slips the door open just a crack, when she sees that it's me she opens the door. "Hey, Ellie."

"Hello," She smiles "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She had a very nice smile.

We both know the circumstances of my visit but I spell it out anyway "Dude, you're way too loud, it's disruptive and I'm working under a deadline."

"I know, I'm sorry." She looks genuinely apologetic.

"I don't know any office job that needs you to scream for hours on end," Alright, that blows what could've been a simple visit where she apologizes and I leave, I always had to add on.

"Right, sorry," She carries herself with so much confidence that it is like she is wearing armour made of gold though she has these subtle awkward tendencies of someone who has never been loved and was forced to improvise. "It's hard to explain,"

"Yeah, you've said-

"Do you wanna come and see?"

I'm taken a little aback and for a minute I think this is all a ploy for Ellie to lock me in her her apartment and kill me because she is sick of her neighbour banging on her door "What?"

"Well, you've asked a couple of times and if you have a minute I can show you."

I pause, mauling over her proposal. I think of my laptop on my spruce desk, open to the final pages of the memoir and I make up my mind "Alright, just not too long."

"If you say so," Ellie opens the door wider for me to move past her and then shuts it behind us.

Ellie's apartment is what I had expected from her even though it is surprisingly nice. She has a large L-shaped sofa in the living room adorned with throw blankets and pillows and a huge flatscreen with a coffee table in front of it. The layout is exactly like mine but inverted, her open kitchen has some odd knick-knacks that looked like they belonged on an Amazon must-haves list.

I don't go into her bathroom and the door leading to one of the rooms (What is equivalent to Margot's bedroom) is shut. The apartment itself is pretty sparse aside from little bits and pieces as she only moved in a month prior.

On the left side, I see that purple LED spilling out of what I assume to be her bedroom.

She walks in ahead of me and the second I follow in after her there is one question I have to ask "Ellie, are you a porn-star?" There are entirely too many computers in here. Her desk is set up with one of those fancy triple-screen PCs and she has a laptop placed seemingly randomly on a white loveseat that's pressed against the right wall.

There is one of those galaxy lamps that projects that trippy shit onto your walls and ceiling. The screen of her PC is facing our shared wall and I can see a huge hole where I assume that a loud crash from the other night occurred. Plastered all over the walls are posters from video games and movies, many of which I hadn't seen.

"What?" She sounds nearly offended "No," she grabs a folding chair from the corner of the room and unfolds it beside her black florid office chair. She sits on the folding chair and motions for me to sit in the office chair. "Come, sit."

I hesitantly sit in the chair "Are you going to attack me now?" I ask, getting defensive for no particular reason other than it was in my nature "Because I've read The Outsiders and I'm pretty sure I can fight."

She chuckles "I'm not gonna fight you."

"Because I'd win?"

She furrows her eyebrows but has this look of amusement on her face "Yeah, definitely."

"So what is this?" I motion around at all of her equipment.

Ellie puts one earbud in then hand me the other "Chat," She says, looking dead at the camera clipped onto her PC "This is my neighbour who came to yell at me for being annoying, she has every right."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm streaming," She said, clicking something on the screen so it changed, instead showing Ellie and I in front of the camera, I looked absolutely lost next to a rolling chat bar full of jokes that I didn't understand and people saying hello to me.

"So I was right," I turn my attention to Ellie "You are an internet person."

"Yeah, I'm an internet person but you weren't right, I don't do porn."

"Not yet," I shrug "Times are desperate," To this, the chats come in even faster than before. "So do you just sit here all night and scream at people?"

"I play video games and do challenges, sometimes I do just sit here and scream at them."

"That makes so much sense," I say "If there's any job that needs you to be obnoxiously loud and annoying, it's a youtube personality."

"Okay, well-

"So you're like Logan Paul?"

Her eyes go wide "No-

"What explains why your eyes are so bloodshot."

"You are a writer," She says it like it's a fact I wasn't aware of "You are in no place to judge, you probably spend as much time in front of a screen as me."

I nod "I hate to say you're right," My attention shifts to the hole behind me "Can you explain how playing video games put a hole through the wall?"

Ellie looks almost embarrassed, she doesn't say anything in response, instead, she just clicks something to screen share with us in a little box in the corner and then goes into YouTube. She types in 'Ellie Williams falls through wall' My eyebrows furrow as I read it, and she clicks the first video that pops up.

The video starts off strong; Ellie is cackling at something that her friend off-camera is saying, her friend then makes a comment that makes her laugh even harder and she throws herself back in her chair. This act breaks it, you can hear the chair snap beneath the pressure and Ellie just lets it happen as the chair crashes against the wall. Her eyes go wide when she realizes she's just put a massive hole into the wall and seconds later you can hear me on the other side banging my hands on the wall. Her eyes go wide and she stares at her friend off-camera, all of the laughter stops abruptly before her friend can't hold it in anymore and erupts in chortles, and the video cuts off.

My hand flies over my mouth to fight back the laughter I so badly want to let out. Ellie and I sit wordlessly, the only sound being donations on the screen and my giggles slipping through. Eventually, I manage to compose myself and look to Ellie, I don't have much to say except for "Oh my god."

A/N: Streamer! Ellie won the poll so here we are. As I was drafting out the other chapters for When I Was Your Girl, I decided that it is most likely to be discontinued unless I do a rewrite which will not be in the near future. I’m not rocking with the plot and there was a lot of mixed feedback, sorry if you were invested I guess, but you have this series to be invested in now!

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flametrashiraarchive · 1 year

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hi there!! could I request a sanemi x reader where the reader is either taken or severely injured by a demon?? I am a SLUT for a good protective angst to fluff so you may take any and all creative liberties🤭🤭

Argh this hurt so good haha. Poor 'Nemi 😭 thank you for your ask! I hope you enjoy it!

Cw for you being badly injured, blood, swearing, being in a coma. No sex, just pain and suffering (with a happy ending)

Sanemi Shinazugawa x injured reader

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Sanemi presses his hand firmly to your stomach to stem the bleeding. "Not you. Not you too. You're not fucking leaving me, understand?"

His heart is pounding in his chest, his blood running cold. The demon who injured you is already dead, but if it wasn't Sanemi would kill it all over again and again and again. How fucking dare that monster do this to you? He wants to tear it apart.

"Talk to me. Say something, goddamn it." His voice cracks as he begs you.

You're barely clinging to consciousness as you reach up and caress his face, accidentally smearing your blood across his cheek. "'Nemi… it's okay."

"No it's not fucking okay, moron."

And then you pass out, and he realizes those are the last words he may ever say to you.

It's his fault. All of it.

If he'd fought harder, been firmer with you about you staying home for this mission, taken out both demons instead of trusting you to deal with one of them. If only if only if only.

Sanemi's life has been plagued with if onlys. He presses his forehead to yours and prays. Who he is praying to, he has no idea… you, the gods, Buddah, death itself… anyone who'll listen.

"Please, please, please. Not you. Not you."

Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he keeps applying pressure to your wound. His kasugai crow is on its way to bring help. All he can do is hold in your guts and plead.

"Don't leave me alone."

He puts his cheek against yours so his lips are by your ear. "I'll marry you. I'll treat you like goddamn royalty. I'll do anything, just stay. Stay with me." His voice breaks. "Stay. With. Me. Please!"

He doesn't let go. Even when the medical squad comes to help, he keeps the pressure on your wound until they pull him off. And then he holds your hand. He holds it the entire way to the butterfly mansion. He holds it as they operate and put you in a bed to recover, as the doctors come and tell him things he can't understand. All he cares about is whether or not you'll survive.

Why won't you wake up??

It doesn't matter if you have to rest for months: he'll take care of you while you're bedridden and make sure you take your medicines exactly on time. It doesn't matter if you'll struggle with training for a while: he'll kick your ass all the way through rehab and make you even stronger. He'll change dressings, cook, clean, anything.

Just…

"Come back to me," he whispers, holding your hand to his forehead as the sun sets on the fifteenth day of your coma. "Wake up, please."

He's sleeping when you finally do.

Your vision slowly refocuses to find him resting his head on the bed beside your arm, his hand still wrapped around yours. He stirs as you run your fingers through his fluffy white hair, a faint, sleepy smile curving his lips before he snaps back to consciousness and bolts upright.

The force with which he hugs you damn near knocks you into another coma.

"Don't do that again," he whispers. "You hear me?"

It hurts, but you smile. "I love you too."

He buries his face against your neck and holds you tight, unwilling to ever let you slip away again.

#sanemi angst #sanemi needs a hug #someone hug him #i'll do it #sanemi x reader #sanemi x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi x you #demon slayer sanemi #kimetsu sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa

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hotyanderedaddies · 9 months

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you are legit my fav author on here your stories are amazing, could I possibly request yandere wolf daddy with a forced feminized male reader ( who secretly enjoys it)

and can I be 🪬 anon? :3

[Yandere! Werewolf Daddy x Male! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

"Princess, it's time to wake up," Daddy whispered into your ear as he tightened his hold on you, squeezing you in closer to his hairy chest. He leaned down and placed a large kiss onto your forehead, exaggerating his kissing noises.

You grunted in response, already rolling your eyes at the older werewolf's foolishness.

The big werewolf rolled out from under you and stood up from the bed, stretching his powerful arms over himself. He looked down at you and mock-frowned when he saw that you haven't budged, too tired to get out of bed at such an obscene hour (7 AM).

Daddy crossed his muscled arms over his beefy chest, tsking at you. "Princess," he warned, putting on an authoritative air, "it's time to get up so we can get ready for the day. Now be a good girl and listen to Daddy."

"Shut up..." you whined, shoving the bubblegum pink pillow over your head in frustration.

You heard Daddy utter out a low growl.

Before you knew it, Daddy threw your tiny body over his broad shoulder. He stomped over towards the bathroom, plopping you on your feet in front of the tub.

"I'll lay your clothes out on the bed," Daddy said as he reached over and turned on the hot water for the shower, steam already billowing out. "Unless, you want some of Daddy's help?"

"Pass," you muttered, slamming the bathroom door shut so that you had some semblance of privacy.

As you washed yourself under the hot water of the shower, you couldn't help but sigh as you lathered up your hair with the sickly sweet strawberry scented shampoo. It was such a girly smell and the bottle was even bright pink with flecks of glitter garnishing it- you wouldn't have been caught dead using it at the gym with all of your buddies around.

Still, even you had to admit that it did smell a little good. You couldn't resist taking a big whiff of the sweet strawberries as you lathered up your longer hair that Daddy forbade you to cut.

Normally, you opted for buzzcuts since it was an easier style to manage, but now your hair was shaggy and starting to cover up your ears due to its longer-than-normal length.

After rinsing out the suds from your hair, you grabbed your equally sweet smelling body wash (this one shaped like a red candied apple), and washed yourself.

It's been four months since Daddy stole you.

You'd been packing up your stuff to move out of your freshman dorm at college. You'd been all set to leave the next morning and had lied down to get some much needed sleep.

That'd been when Daddy had snuck in through your open window, and had snatched you out of bed.

He'd taken you to the cabin he calls "Home", where he'd claimed that you were soulmates and where he dotes on you hand and foot...

and where he insists on calling you "Princess", "Baby Girl", "Sweetiepie", et cetera.

Daddy dresses you up in the girliest clothes that he can find, and he keeps on giving you gifts that would traditionally belong on the more feminine side of the spectrum (roses, jewelry, vibrators).

It was mortifying for a manly athlete such as yourself... or at least, it used to be.

Despite your annoyance, even you had to admit that having such a strong, hunky, muscly wolf daddy pampering you constantly was sorta nice.

Ignoring your irritation for the time being, you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You walked back into the bedroom and nearly wailed at the hot pink hoodie and light blue skinny jeans that Daddy had picked out for you to wear. It was a rather tame outfit considering that there were no frills or glitter this time; but you were never a big fan of pink to be honest.

Still, not wanting another spanking, you yanked on the clothes, surprised at how soft the fabric of the hoode was. Despite its garish color, the fabric was soft to the touch like fleece, and you could definitely smell Daddy's musk on it from when he absolutely rolled around on it to scent it.

As you examined yourself in the mirror, the bedroom door swung open and Daddy sauntered in, wearing tattered blue jeans and no shirt, allowing his buff chest muscles to be on display.

The split second his eyes landed on you, Daddy rushed forward and wrapped you up in his arms, nuzzling you lovingly.

"You look so cute, Princess," Daddy gushed happily. "You're Daddy's Baby Girl, right?"

The way Daddy looked at you with such love and adoration in his eyes, combined with the softness of the hoodie, the sweet scent of the strawberry shampoo, and the firmness of Daddy's large muscles caused you to completely melt into the wolf daddy's hold.

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, blushing slightly as you rested your head on Daddy's chest, hearing the deep rumble of contentment as he kissed your forehead.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere daddy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #werewolf #yandere werewolf #obsessive love #possessive boyfriend #Asks #Dom Daddy #Daddy x Reader #Male Reader #yandere x male darling #yandere x male reader

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redflagshipwriter · 4 months

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Hot Ghouls Chapter 10 1/2

Masterpost

At 8:00 pm, Danny scraped himself off the counter at his work-study position and gathered up his books. His replacement, Angelica, was already setting up by adjusting the height of the spinning chair in front of the best computer. She was a little older than him, a Junior maybe? She had been his training supervisor.

A patron came up while he was putting his notebooks in his bag. Angelica checked them out, soft beeps marking each book. He hung around a few moments until she finished and the student went out the door.

“Hey, Angie?” He asked. “I saw you're on closing Saturday. I'm on opening.” Danny fidgeted. “Would you be okay with a trade?” He was going to have to stay out late tonight, and there was no way he’d be able to catch up on missed sleep on Friday. He knew from experience that he’d be staggering all Saturday if he really had to be at the library by 8 am.

Angelica blinked and paused for a moment as she thought it over. “Tentatively, it's fine,” she decided. “I'll text you when I know for sure. I have to check with Birdie.”

Danny put his hands up. “Fair enough,” he said agreeably, “I owe you one either way for trying.”

“It's not a problem, I have to work the same hours either way.” Angelica opened up a browser and then started setting up whatever schoolwork she had to keep her occupied until midnight. “Have a good night, Danny. Take care out there. Stay away from banks.”

He promised that he would and then he slouched out onto the dim campus. It was pretty dead at the moment. People were mostly off campus, or in their dorms getting ready to go out for the night, Danny figured. He started the walk home on autopilot.

Danny hadn’t forgotten that he promised Jason he’d focus on their problem, and it didn’t matter that Jason had been kind of a creep about it. It was still high up his priority list.

But the more he thought about it, the more freaked out he was that Waters had managed to do it in the first place. It should have been impossible. There had to be a factor that they didn’t know about, but Danny wasn’t enough of an expert on piercing the veil between life and death to figure that out without tanking his grades. He hadn’t been able to get a hold of Vlad yet, either.

His tentative theories all seemed bonkers. Maybe Waters had gotten hold of some kind of magical focus, or gotten sponsored by someone with a lot of hocus pocus. Maybe Waters was a tool for someone else’s scheme, as opposed to just being a useless tool like usual. It was also possible that Jason was the weird factor. It seemed like a big coincidence, though, that Waters would stumble upon a sacrificial victim who actually was already eligible to reside in the Infinite Realms. Vlad had said it would be possible for a ghost on the living world side to get sent packing by Waters’ bullshit, but that possibility was outright silly. What ghost would A: be in the human world; and B: get caught by Jeremy friggin Waters or even sillier, C: want to get engaged to Danny?

It was a moot point. Jason gave Danny some weird feelings that he suspected might be like, puberty related, but he definitely wasn’t a ghost. Danny could tell that, at least. He was a flashy-dressing biker tough guy. He was probably a community theatre escapee, what with the cherry red helmet with weird face shape molding and his dramatic play to lounge around one of Danny’s regular study spots, but come on. He was just some dude. Kind of a dorky dude, even.

‘Massively hot, though,’ Danny had to acknowledge. He could never let Jazz know. Or Sam. Or Tucker. Or-

He shuddered at the thought of his parents meeting his accidental fiance.

Just, no. The only person he could probably trust around Jason was, idk… Wulf?

“I need better friends,” Danny muttered. He jogged down the final set of concrete stairs that led off campus and into the city itself.

It was debatable as to whether there was any point in going back to his apartment. The backpack on his shoulders wasn’t that heavy. If he went there, he’d basically dump his luggage and change and then have to go…

Danny made a face and fished out his phone. He optimistically changed directions before he could finish typing his request to crash at Jazz’s place for the night. On the one hand, she would know firsthand how little sleep he was going to get. On the other hand, this would shave hours off of his travel.

He was nearly to his sister’s apartment near the main Gotham U campus when she sent back a message.

:( I’m not home tonight, but my roommate is! If you can ghost in without her knowing, go for it! But she really can’t know, I can’t have guests when I’m not there to supervise.

Danny typed up a message with a little emoji robber accusing her of criminal actions before he remembered he shouldn’t bite the hand that let him crash.

You’re saving my entire afterlife, he sent instead.

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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duckybuiltwrong · 3 months

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Yandere Donatello

You walk around your apartment. It's late. The clock reads 3 am and you smile and joke about the witching hour. You sit on your couch and put on Coraline for the thousand time.

You haven't been getting sleep. Or well....just haven't been sleeping period. If you somehow pass out on your bed or couch. Then so be it. You were having another one of your episodes. You didn't eat much and didn't sleep. It happened every once in a while and would go away after a bit.

As you watch, you notice you've been hallucinating more. You were tired, but the moment you tried to sleep, you were just awake. You would have to take something but they normally gave you night terrors and you can sleep after that. So you would just have to wait...and wait....and wait.....and- you sigh on the couch and rub your face.

You throw you head back and just look around the room. Today's hallucinations include flashing lights and shimmers. Right now you were 'hallucinating' a camera in the corner of your ceiling. You flip it off and laugh a bit. Finding it funny. But you jolt when you here a window open in your house. You pick your head up and wait to hear anything....nothing.

You shrug and look back at the screen. Saying the words with the movie as it plays. You really need to find another movie to watch. You smile at the thought and close your eyes. Your head slowly falls back but shoots up when you hear a clink on your coffee table infront of you.

You open your eyes and curse with a jolt. A giant turtle is standing in front of you with a tense grin. "Greetings." I says stiffly. "Yo." You throw a lazy peace sign at it. "So....hallucinating a turtle that's new." You groan.

It's smile falls as it looks at you and points back to the drink on the table. "You need to drink. You have been skipping your water intake." You sit up and lean forward on the couch. Resting your elbow and arms on your legs. "That bad thst my hallucinations have to tell me to drink water." You say as you reach for the cup you recognize comes from your cabinet. You drink from it. It's just water. Nasty and tasteless water from the tap. You finish it and look at the turtle. "Dramatic sigh, you look dead. You haven't been sleeping and need to rest." It says to you. You scrunch your face. "And you are?"

You both sit there in silence and it answered. "Donatello. You're one and only true love." He says seriously. You only smile and tilt your head. "That's cute. I'm so lonely I create a boyfriend." You lay your head back and close your eyes. You feel the couch dip next to you and hear an object being set on the table. A zipper is heard and rustling. You pick your head up and open your eyes to look.

It's a small bag with vials and pills and needles. Your stomach jumps at the sight. You look to Donatello as he messes with the needle and vial. "This a nightmare?" You ask him. "No, it's reality." He says snarkily. Your brows furrow. "Why do you have that then? Gonna kill me?" You ask trying to act tough but you voice shakes a bit as you see another light flash. You hold your head and sigh. Donatello only looks at you from the side and pulls the needle out of the vial and pushes the plunger to make sure there is no air in it. "I'm here to help you. You need me." You scoff. "Yea right. This is just a dream and I'll wake up." You turn to look back to the TV. It's blurry and you can't focus on the screen. You feel light from the lack of sleep and food.

As you are watching the TV and trying to ignore the Turtle with the purple mask, your sleeve is picked up. You look to see him lifting it up and wiping your arm with an alcohol swab. "That's cold?" You sit there confused. Why can you feel the wetness and cold wipe? He grabs your arm and wraps his fingers around it to make sure you don't move. It clicks. "You're real." You look at him horrified with tired eyes. He looks to you and smiles stiffly. "And im here to help." He stabs your arm as you wince. You grab his wrist that holds the syringe and try to pull it away but it doesn't even move. His thumb presses on the plunger until it hits the bottom. He pulls it out softly and sets it down on your table as you just stare at him horrified. You are kept in place by his hand on your arm.

You shake your head as things get blurry and your head tightens but loosens at the same time. He uses the alcohol swab to wipe the blood off of your arm and discards it onto the wrapping it came in. He turns to you and slowly let's go of your arm. You just sit there. You slowly blink and your head tilts. "You're real." You whisper. He smiles less forced. "And I'm here to take you home." You watch as he moves his arms and hands and starts to clean up the mess he made. You only slowly lay your body against the back of the couch.

"Are you going to hurt me?" You ask softly. He hums a bit and doesn't look at you. "No, I'm going to help you. Get you on a schedule and diet. You can't keep living like this." He says as he zips up the bag. A metal arm comes from his back and picks it up as he turns back to you. You are looking at him with hazy eyes and barely awake. He smirks and moves to pick you up. Your head resting on his shoulder as he holds you bridal style. "Let's get you home. You look tired." He says as he heads to the open window.

The last thing you see is the bright lights of your city.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere donatello #yandere donnie #yandere tmnt #yandere rottmnt

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dusterbishop · 1 month

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you believe me like a god (i'll destroy you like i am)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 3.8k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. once again, i'm so grateful for the likes and kind words! it means a lot to me! this chapter is long, but the next one is going to be heavy and i needed to get it all out here.

part one. || part two. || part three.

Come’on, chér, just hold on.

Playing the odds?

Non, I’m bettin’ all on you.

Gambit talks for a long, long time. He tells you about Cassandra Nova, and the Resistance's intent to cripple her center of operations. He tells you about the other mutants he allied himself with. He tells you about the climate of the Void, which is dry and barren and desolate. He tells you about his liquor collection, even as he laments how he won’t be able to indulge in it for a while.

This version of him is dead-set on a suicide mission, you quickly realize. Nova and her power sounds far beyond the scope of Gambit’s abilities, and you doubt his allies could overtake her, either. They are all hopelessly outmatched.

Then again, they are also decaying in the Void. Void is a good name for it; the earth is desolate and menacing as the pair of you travel. Your powers flicker at the edge of your vision in a blurry mirage of recollection, like a film played backwards. You can taste the metallic tinge of blood in the back of your throat. Your body still simmers with feverish fatigue, even though you are five days deep into this timeline. You haven’t been using your abilities beyond necessity, but each time you wonder what would happen if your intended time-object doesn’t appear at the command.

C’mon, Wildcard, don’ get skittish on me now.

Just deal me in, Cajun.

They are all outmatched on their own. You stare at the broad expanse of Gambit’s back as you walk, taking in the way he walks over the uneven terrain, the idle twirl of his bo staff slung lax in his hand. The travel has worn him down at the edges; his hair is mussed and dirt-streaked, and his coat is weighted and torn at the hem. Five days of trekking through the daylight and camping through the night has taken a toll on his body, but he still hums to himself as you both walk.

You know this song. It’s the one Tante Mattie would sing to him when he was young and couldn’t sleep. Or at least, that’s what your Remy told you. Perhaps this version of Remy LeBeau found it through another source. You can’t imagine the man in front of you as a little boy needing comfort.

No. That isn’t quite true. You have seen photos of a younger Remy while visiting New Orleans, much to his dramatic announcements of utter embarrassment, and you never forgot just how small he seemed. How unfair that his life was wrought with pain and fear, even as that little boy, just for the color of his eyes. Abandoned by one family only to be raised in crime with another.

You know what your Remy went through. You just can’t bear to think about what this one has suffered with. Not now. Maybe not ever considering the terror Nova has been spreading across the Void.

“Okay,” you say suddenly. It’s nearly nightfall. You should find a place to settle for the night, then scrounge up enough from your rations to feed his burning metabolism and soothe the disquiet ache in your stomach. Despite the fever, you should eat something of substance even if the thought alone makes you feel nauseous.

“Go’on, chér,” Gambit says. He’s eyeing the horizon with a calculating look, no doubt thinking the very same thing you are. You don’t know how far the makeshift headquarters are for the rebel cause, but you can figure it’s still some ways off by the frown on his face. Just how far did he go wandering alone? You don’t allow yourself to wonder why he seemed to be looking for you, either. That would lead to more questions than your mind could handle.

“You want me to fight Nova,” you say. That catches his attention. He jolts as if you charged him with his own kinetic wave, his pitch-dark eyes sliding to lock on yours. He looks like he’s ready to argue, or maybe to sweet-talk, so you add, “I’ll do it. Fight her.”

“Suicide, chér?” His mouth is twisted unhappily. “Nobody tell you to do that.”

“Didn’t need you to, Cajun,” you shoot back. “No other reason for you to go hunting across the Void for me.”

“Mebbe,” he drawls out, his smile temptingly coy, “Gambit like what he sees.”

You don’t take the bait. “I can kill her, but where does that leave you? All of you?”

His smile grows just a little brighter at the misstep. It takes every nerve in your body to resist the urge to sigh in exasperation. You don’t have to remind him you care about his wellbeing. This Gambit isn’t yours to protect.

“Don’ worry ‘bout us, chér,” he says, nearly a purr. It sends a thrill down to the base of your spine. “We talk it out, eh? Our hand t’deal.”

“With a suicide mission?” Your laugh is strained. “You really know how to raise the bet, Cajun.”

“Playing de odds,” he agrees. In the half-light of the sinking sun on the horizon, his profile is cast in shadows, and yet you can see the faintest twitch in his mouth. Almost a frown. Then he turns his face away from you entirely, hiding back behind the facade of his relaxed shoulders. “We gonna get out dis place.”

He sounds so sure that you say nothing, taking in the moment of staring at the setting sun. It would be much easier to leave entirely, even with the heaviness of your limbs from the fever. Who knows how much time you have left in this place? Something about the timeline here has you untethered from reality. You keep swallowing back the taste of blood.

Part of you almost tells Gambit, right then, that you don’t think you have time to talk about plans. You can’t just wait for the right opportunity to land in your lap like a wounded bird.

But you don’t. The two of you quietly settle down around a fire and divide your meager rations. It’s a strange collection of his preferences with the oddity of your Void self’s miscellaneous tastes. It’s an unspoken agreement to swap the night watch while the other is asleep. Gambit takes the first watch. You pretend to sleep curled next to the heat of the fire, your mind flashing through broken images of different times, like watching broken sunlight filter in from under the surface of the ocean.

Remy used to think it odd that you didn’t dream. You would joke to him that you had enough of dreaming when you found him. Still, some part of you feels a hollow curiosity towards the thought of dreaming. How could your mind conjure images of desires only for you to wake up without them? There was never a time that you could remember where you didn’t just wave your hand and hold the world in your palm.

Yet the memories that flicker across your mind from the darkness behind your closed eyelids are strangely nostalgic. Thwarting a burglary attempt as your mutant debut, celebrating Jubilee’s birthday at the mansion, visiting New Orleans for the first time as a LeBeau. Waking up to Remy’s arm slung over your waist as if he was trying to keep you secured in this timeline, even as your mind traveled right in plain sight, gone beyond his reach.

It rends a heart-wrenching ache in your chest. You have to fight to keep your breathing steady. The memories are still there, rushing past you quickly enough to make you dizzy.

Marrying Remy and nearly missing on your cue to kiss because you were staring up at his eyes. Desperately reaching out to him as your power stuttered, nearly sending you tumbling over the edge of the roof. Discreet shuffling around in bed to avoid waking the cats piled around you two, with Remy sleepily pressing a kiss to your temple. Losing days at a time, flickering in and out of your life like a specter, only to watch him grow more and more desolate in the wake of your disappearances.

Growing sicker for all the time-summoning your body forced you through. Reaching out for Remy’s hand to kiss it. Laughing at the way Remy pulled you up out of your chair to waltz in the kitchen in the middle of the night, despite him supporting most of your weight. Staring at the abandoned costume hanging in your closet, no longer your size due to the weight loss, knowing you could not wear it again in this lifetime. Accepting that, to be with Remy.

Accepting it all, just to be with Remy. Playing the odds with your own sort of suicide mission, just to keep a life with him. To earn your title with the X-Men and get dispatched on missions with them again. To be able to cuddle with the cats without scaring them with a violent waking. To go to sleep next to your husband with the knowledge you could see the same version of him in the morning.

Deal me in, LeBeau.

Eyes, mon cuore.

Warmth burns the back of your eyes. You open them slowly to stare at the blur of the fire crackling quietly in front of you. You can taste the fresh warmth of blood coating your tongue and sticking to the back of your front teeth. There’s something small and rectangular in your hand, but you don’t shift out of your curled up position to see what it is. You hadn’t intended on bringing something out of the timeline.

How strange, to dream and wake with nothing to show for it?

“C’est tout un sucre,” Gambit says softly. You flinch at the sound of his voice. You had nearly forgotten that he was there. “Not gon’ go ahead an’ ask what’s got you so scared.”

It takes effort to swallow back the swelling emotion in your throat. “I can take watch.”

“I s’pose you jus’ want some quiet, eh?” There’s the whispering shuffle of fabric, and then Gambit is settling down to lay next to you, leaving a near-imperceptible gap between you. In another life, you could reach out and touch him. Just not this one.

“Not really,” you sigh. He lets that lie for a heartbeat, letting you collect the raging tempest of thoughts scrambling your head. It would be awfully convenient if a wandering pack of mutants tried to attack you, or if Nova herself descended from the sky to kill you. Anything to spare you from the grave you were preparing to dig yourself into.

“Gambit,” you start, still staring resolutely ahead at the flickering flames, “I told you what happens to me.”

“Reset,” he muses. You can hear the gentle rustle of fabric, then the soft flicker of shuffling cards as he takes them from one hand to the other. He thinks best when he’s in control, and so he has his cards poised for action. You don’t look at him, but you’re not entirely sure if it’s for the sake of your control, or for his.

“What I said,” you agree. “It’s not a suicide mission if I go after Nova.”

“No,” he says.

“Even if she destroys the Void version of my body, I keep traveling,” you continue. “I can — ”

“No,” he repeats. The edge in his tone makes you pause, but it’s the hand that grips yours that makes you turn to stare at him. He isn’t wearing his gloves, and the warmth of his skin against yours makes the heat of the fire feel insignificant. It’s his eyes, though, that make your lungs seize up. All night-black pupils with hardly the rings of red. His eyes are his only tell that he’s terrified out of his mind.

You blink back at him, stunned.

“Don’ be a fool,” he finally says. Slowly, reluctantly, he takes his hand from yours. The cold air in the wake of his touch burns just as much as uncontrolled wildfire. “We all gon’ get out dis place. Nobody dyin’.”

“I can’t die,” you shoot back. “Don’t you understand? I will always move on to another life. None of this matters to me! Not the Void, or Paris, or fucking New Orleans! If I go and blow up Nova, then I can move on and live my life in another timeline without dealing with any of this.”

“Movin’ on,” Gambit notes. He’s smiling, but there’s an edge to the curve of his mouth. “Dat’s jus’ called runnin’ away.”

“And Gambit never folds, is that it?” You hold up your other hand, the one with the playing card, and toss it to him. It flutters in the breeze before resting on his chest. He narrows his eyes at you, but his curiosity wins as it always does. He was always too easy to bait. A gambler never gives up the promise of a winning prize.

You don’t have to look to know what the card is. If you were dreaming of Remy, it only makes sense that you dreamed of his favored card. Gambit studies the Queen of Hearts with an inscrutable gaze. It’s not the version that Remy gave you; that one was likely consumed in the same blast that destroyed your body. This one is unwrinkled and vibrantly colored. Brand new.

“You don’ know, do you?” Gambit says. The flatness of his tone makes you pause, though you can’t bring yourself to look at the expression on his face. Your gaze locks onto the card he’s holding so delicately, as if he’s holding onto your heart rather than a piece of pressed painted cardboard.

“You kno’ me, hein?” He turns his head to look at you, and you have to force yourself to release the breath you’ve been holding in a slow, controlled sigh. Still, you feel stripped raw by his gaze. You wrap your arms around yourself to avoid the impulse to summon a staff and fend him off from his next words: “You recognize me.”

“Seen a lot of you lately,” you say. It’s meant to be dismissive and unaffected, but even you can hear the hitch in your breath when he shuffles an inch closer, eyes burning black into yours.

“You and Gambit meet before,” he half-laughs, not happily.

“Many times.”

“Then you know Gambit’s never forgotten a beautiful woman.”

Like that, he’s up and crouched above you, his hands clasped tightly to your upper arms. You’ve forgotten how quick he can be when he’s lost in the lure of a gamble. His warmth leeches through the thin fabric of your coat, time-stolen to match the beige wasteland around you and offer some hope of camouflage. It’s nothing like the armored fabric woven into his, and his touch reminds you of just how vulnerable you truly are right now.

You’ve met a few Gambits that have tried to actively kill you, before. One had plunged a sharpened edge of his staff right into your chest, aiming with precise calculation to slip it straight through the soft skin between your ribs. Another had taken you down as collateral in pursuit of more satisfying prey, stepping around your fallen body as he continued his game. And, of course there had been Remy, too.

This Gambit doesn’t tighten his grip, though you can feel the tension humming like hornets beneath his hands, kinetic energy pulsing in anticipation.

“Gambit,” you warn him. You don’t try to pull away. You don’t even reach for the veil of time that whirs at the edges of your vision, even if it would be almost easy to summon some method of distraction and escape this sudden intervention.

“He ain’t forget,” Remy repeats. He squeezes you, just once, eyes darting over your expression with intent tenacity. “Listen to me, eh? I promised you, chér. Even if you don’ remember it, I mean it. We gonna get out dis place together.”

Something metallic tastes spoiled in the back of your throat. You blink at him, struck suddenly by the realization that you have been hiding in plain sight. The Void must be more of a well-fitting title for this place than you initially assumed, as it’s given you nothing but barren territory to let your power meander. It gives you space to let the timelines mingle in a blurry mirage of recollection at the edges of your vision, like a film played in rapid reverse.

You thought you had been desensitized to meeting Gambits, and perhaps you were right. You couldn’t even recognize Remy LeBeau until he was right in front of you. How else would you explain finding your Remy here, and not recognizing him sooner?

One of his hands flickers, almost too quick to follow, and the cuff of his sleeve unravels to reveal a card. It’s not one of the suit of aces.

It’s your Queen of Hearts.

“Is dis your card?” His words are meant to be wry, but there’s a catch in his voice where his breath stutters, so soft you might miss it if you weren’t struck senseless at the sight. The edges of the card are singed black, no doubt remainders of the kinetic energy, but the crease down the middle is undoubtedly from your nervous fidgeting during missions with the X-Men. You kept it in your pocket as a good luck charm only to fiddle with it during downtime. Folding it over and over, running your thumb over the lines to memorize every feeling.

You can’t speak. It feels like being dragged into a violent undertow, the waves of memories flickering at the edges of your vision threatening to drown you. You suck in a shuddering breath, nearly a cry, and finally succumb to the urge to reach out and touch the curve of his jaw. He’s warm and familiar beneath your touch.

“‘M all in for you, mon coeur,” he says, and then he leans in and kisses you.

Warmth burns the back of your eyes, the telltale harbinger of the tears that start trickling down your cheeks in a slow caress. He’s kissing you with reckless abandon, and you open up under his touch, unwinding your arms from your sides to reach up and clutch at the lapels of his coat. One of his hands wraps around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer, the other moving up to cup your salt-streaked cheek. You can hardly feel the rough pad of his thumb wiping away the tears beyond the whir of power buzzing in the back of your throat.

You have to pull back, breathless, though Remy is holding you tight from retreating too far.

“I’m the kinda man that don’t leave,” he tells you. His voice is just as hoarse as you feel. “I don’ care if it hurts, mon coeur. Dis place can’t have you. We gonna get out.”

“I care, you idiot.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, pulling back before he can turn his head to steal a proper one. He makes a soft noise of indignation, but you can’t let him think that any more sacrifice will fix the gaping wound festering between you two. “I don’t know how we can fix what’s broken between us, Remy. I’m terrified that you’re going to end up dead trying to fix it yourself.”

“Non,” he shakes his head, though he can’t hide the way his body tenses up beneath you. “Since when you talk that way, mon coeur? Gambit has a plan.”

“He knows the odds, is that it?” You tug him down to kiss him again, and he goes willingly to your silent command, his mouth warm against yours. You can taste the salt from your tears, only to pull back and see the shine in his eyes, too. How long had it been since you two were separated for good? You don’t remember. You have lived far too long outside of this time to remember when. You hope that Remy, however he ended up in the Void, doesn’t remember either.

You can’t bear the thought of him waiting to see if you would return, following in the wake of this Void version of your face. Counting the days, over and over, just to see a stranger wearing your body every time the sun rose.

“In this, he do,” Remy agreed. There’s a furrow in his brow, and you marvel at the way you reach up and smooth a thumb over the wrinkle, only for him to scrunch his nose at you in familiar distaste. “I taste blood, mon coeur. You hurt?”

Even as he asks, his hand runs down your side, checking for hidden injury. The memories at the edge of your vision flicker to a time where he had done the same thing after a particularly rough mission sent you crashing into a wall. You had cracked two ribs and spent some downtime on mandatory bedrest while he fussed over your every movement and tried to keep the cats from sleeping on your chest.

You don’t realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen him fuss over you, but the back of your eyes start to burn again. “I’m okay, Cajun. Just adjusting to the timeline.”

He lets you kiss him again, this time keeping your mouth closed to hide the taste of your blood, but he’s still frowning when you break apart. “Six days.”

You’ve never had to spend so long adjusting. You didn’t think Gambit would notice your lack of time-summoning, but then again, you hadn’t realized Remy was silently cataloging every action that confirmed your identity. In some instances, you would only spend a minute or two in a timeline. Six days counts as practically permanent without a reset.

God, how the hell had you not noticed him watching you? Of all the Gambits for you to return to, it had to be him. And out of all the versions of you that cross-trek the known universes, he had to get the one that is too goddamn tired of losing him. He had to get the version of you that was too tired to pretend that this life was worth wrestling with every moment of the day.

No wonder he broke his silent watch to admit the truth to you. Even if it broke his heart to watch you leave the timeline, he couldn’t sit there and listen to you act willing to destroy yourself again.

Which is why you can’t tell him you’re dying, anyway. Time doesn’t exist in the same capacity in the Void. The memories overlapping your vision are nothing more than ghostly shrouds of a past life. However your power works, it doesn’t have the same support in this place. Staying here will kill you.

“Listen,” you tell Remy. His body burns hot above you, a livewire of kinetic warmth. Alive and real. Your Remy, alive. “I promise we’ll get out of here, okay?”

I promise I will save you, you think as he kisses you, his hands cupping your face as if you are something precious to protect. No matter what.

#gambit #remy lebeau #gambit imagine #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x y/n #remy lebeau x y/n #gambit fic #d&w #dp3 #xmen imagine

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miirohs · 8 months

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only you [s.m.g]

pairing: CEO!Song Mingi x Female!Pregnant!Reader wc: 0.7k cw: poorly written fluff. that's it. thats the warning. an: i blame drakes verse and my need to write an au with this fine as fuck man. this is very soft!

You shuffled into Mingi’s office, pulling the shawl closer to yourself as you padded across the wooden floors. His room seemed to get bigger every time you came.

You could see his silhouette against the window, illuminated by the soft yellowing light that shone from the lamp on his desk, the only true source of light in He was talking to someone over the phone, running his fingers through his hair and pacing, tone obviously frustrated.

You paused, listening in for a few moments before you stepped back. The floorboard creaked as you took another step, causing you to wince. If he hadn’t heard you before, he’d definitely heard you now.

“Yes I know, and I think we should- Y/n? Is that you?” Mingi turned around, spotting you in your attempt to sneak away. “I gotta go, my wife is here- Tell him to contact me when he’s ready.”

“I’m sorry about that Min,” You murmured, cheeks heating up from your spot as he sat down at his desk, setting his phone right down as he watched you, “I didn’t realize I’d be making so much noise .”

“You know you’re always welcome here,” He sighed, patting his thigh “c’mere, I wanna see you.”

You tiredly shuffled to him, gingerly placing yourself in his lap. He yanked you closer to him impatiently, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Feels like I haven’t seen you in so long Min,” You whispered, running a hand through his hair, “I miss you. Can’t sleep lately because of the baby either.”

“I know,” He frowned, looking up at you with apologetic eyes, “‘m sorry.”

“It can’t be helped,” You sighed, “you’re always working hard. I applaud you for being able to pull that off.”

“Perks of being a CEO,” he muttered, a pout spreading on his face as you pulled him closer.

“If you want, I could try and help you,” You said, brushing the falling hair out of his eyes, “I do know a thing or two about running a business.”

He snickered, holding back stronger laughs as you watched, confused.

“You? Run a business?” He burst out laughing, stopping as you landed a smack on his back, “Sorry! Sorry, i was just laughing thinking how scary you’d be as a boss-”

“Damn right,” You huffed, glaring at him.

“I don’t doubt you and your fearsome temper,” Mingi teased, kissing your temple as your face heated up, attempting to hide in the crook of his neck from his advances, “but I don't think it’d be fair of me to make a pregnant woman work.”

“But then-” He stopped you, looking you dead in the eyes with a smile. “If I have to, I'll just pass on the work to Yunho and maybe some of the other COOs!”

“Mingi,” You groaned, rubbing your face with your hands, “That’s not very fair-”

“But If i get to spend time with you and spoil you, it works out! Now I wanna spoil you for being so patient with me,” He grinned, leaning into your space. “So, what does my pretty wife want? Hm?”

“Min, I have a closet full of clothes worth more than me and my food is always stocked,” You deadpanned softly, giving him a kiss on his jaw, “if anything, I just want you to go to bed with me right now.”

“But baby,” Mingi whined, rubbing his face into your shoulder, “I just wanna show you how much I love you.”

“If you wanna be like that, I'll hope you hold to your promise of giving that work-” You paused, yawning, “-to someone else because I am tuckered out. It’s two in the morning and I am ready to snooze.”

“Fine, but only for you!" He scoffed, rolling his eyes with affection as you raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to carry you?” He chuckled, muscles obviously flexing against your back.

“Alright, go on, you big show off-” You yelped as he lifted you up, twirling you around.

“This is fun, we should do it more often!” He exclaimed, earning a small smile from you. His phone suddenly rang on his desk, abandoned by the both of you.

“Are you going to get that or…?”

“It can wait,” He grinned, kissing you on the nose, “lest i should keep you waiting.”

“No objections here captain,” You murmured, leaning into him, “now let's go, or i'm gonna be seriously grouchy.”

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sirfrogsworth · 2 years

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My dad passed away a few hours after I left the hospital.

I really didn't want him to be alone when it happened. I figured we had at least another week before the toxins built up in his system. But he had congestive heart failure along with renal failure and I think he would have passed tonight whether he stopped dialysis or not. I'm so glad we didn't attempt that amputation. He would have gone through that and died a few days later regardless.

When I left he was in a very deep sleep. So at least I was there for his last moments of consciousness. The last thing he saw was a loved one. I still wish I had stayed tonight. They even asked me if I'd like to spend the night and I had this feeling like maybe I should. But my back was on fire and I was very sleepy. And I wanted to make sure I was able to meet his visitors in the morning. So I went home to get some rest.

I know people will comfort me and say it's okay, but my mom died all alone in the ICU. She couldn't even have visitors. And I just didn't want that for my dad. I wanted to be by his side holding his hand.

In any case, they called around 12:40 am. I barely held it together until I hung up the phone. I called my brother to let him know. Then I woke up Katrina to hear a comforting voice to calm me down. I wish she could have hugged me, but the power of her hugging spirit is so profound you can almost feel it through the phone.

I let her get back to sleep and I went back to the hospital at about 1 am. I had to enter through the ER and an armed security guard escorted me to the elevators. I went up to the 4th floor to the hospice suite (aka a regular hospital room with string lights). I met with my dad's night nurse--a lovely Haitian gentleman named Kennedy.

He escorted me into my father's room. He had prepared it to try and make me more comfortable. He made sure the room had enough light, but not overwhelmingly so. The room was spotless so I guess they must have cleaned it. They packed up my father's belongings and placed them in the corner. Kennedy had the TV set to some sort of relaxation channel. It had images of beaches, mellow music, and sounds of the ocean. Though it made it hard to hear him and I wish he had just left the TV off. Ocean sounds were not going to make seeing my dad any more pleasant. But I guess I appreciate the effort.

My dad was still in his hospital bed. They adjusted it to be perfectly flat and they covered him with the soft, fuzzy microfiber blanket I brought to help my dad be more comfortable. Hospital blankets were scratchy to his sensitive skin. His eyes were closed but his mouth was wide open. I'm wondering if they were unable to close it. My eyes kept playing tricks on me because I kept thinking I saw his chest rise and fall. Maybe my brain just wanted to believe he was just sleeping.

The nurse had me sign a document and gave me some privacy to say goodbye. Once he left I quickly turned off those damn ocean sounds. They were really distracting.

I don't really believe you can talk to the dead. So I just grabbed his belongings, pulled his fuzzy blanket off and left the room.

I guess next up is the service. I am going to try to write a eulogy tomorrow. Hopefully I can find the words to honor my dad's life.

Thank you all for helping support me through this. All of your messages and thoughts really did help make this more tolerable. And thank you for putting up with all of my bored hospital thoughts.

I guess I am going to try and get a few more hours of sleep before I start calling people in the morning. I'll have to let my dad's friends know they can't visit him.

Goodnight everyone.

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reriart · 2 months

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Mending A Torn Heart [Astarion x Reader]

Hello everyone, it's been a while! I finally have a new laptop so I can start writing again. I hope you'll like it and if you have prompts for other Tav/Durge x Astarion, feel free to drop one in the ask box!

Please remember that English is not my native language.

TW: +18 MDNI, Tav have female genitals, but you can decide their gender, fluff, angst, penetration, PiV, improper use of spell, blood drinking, depression, mention of parent's death.

Words: 2,487

Tav fails to mend their blouse, so Astarion offer his help.

You can read it on AO3 too.

"Ouch!" you murmur, bringing your index to the mouth, sucking on it to stop the bleeding and the burning sensation.

During the evening, you've been trying desperately to sew up a tear on your worn blouse, but never in your life have you picked up a needle and thread - it was something your mother usually did. As a result, every attempt to fix the damage fails miserably.

"Damn it!"

Tears begin to peep, but you try to push them back. It feels foolish to cry over something so frivolous, and, especially, you don't want others to see you like that. You bend your head and shoulders downward, sighing and hoping they don't see your eyes glistening. When you look up to check, you realize that only Gale and Astarion are left. You were too focused to notice whoever was there before.

"My fellow bookworm, I think I'll go to sleep," Gale says. "I don't deny this is a conciliatory reading for a good sleep."

Astarion remains with his eyes fixed on his book. It has a worn cover, but in the vampire's graceful hands, it looks refined and antique rather than ruined. His free hand caresses the rim of the pewter cup beside him, which you are sure contains no water.

"The books you read always tend to do that," the elf replied. "You should try something that isn't fiction for women of a certain age."

"My pale friend, I don't know if you've noticed, but our book choice is limited to what we salvage among burned houses and dead bodies. At least until we get to Baldur's Gate, there is…"

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Good night, Gale."

The wizard sighs, getting up and disappearing into his tent. You lower your eyes and turn back to your torn blouse, biting your lip to keep from huffing.

"Are you going to spend all night poking holes in your fingers like you're squeezing a porcupine, or are you going to ask me for help? You're making me thirsty."

Swallow. Well aware of Astarion's supernatural nature, it had occurred to you that he could sense even a droplet of blood in the air, let alone … well, many droplets.

"Can you sew?" you ask, tilting your head.

Astarion snorts, setting the book down on the floor and getting up with the grace of a cat. He stretches his back and smooths his clothes. "Of course I can sew. Everybody should know how to do it. It's, you know, essential."

Guilt settles in your stomach. Does he always have to be so straightforward? You look first at him, then at the blouse, where two small red patches keep company with the gash in the fabric. "…damn, that won't come off."

"I am sufficiently knowledgeable about blood and tailoring to tell you that yes, those stains will come out," he mutters, sitting next to you. "Let's solve this first. Give it to me," he orders, motioning you with his hand to hand him needle, thread, and whatever else.

You do as requested and move closer to him, still trying to maintain some distance. The terror that he will hear your heartbeat running at full speed or that he might use one of your pitted fingers as a drink restrains you from getting any closer.

"Gods, it looks like a goblin tried to fix it," he comments, huffing and pulling away the thread you tried to patch it with. "How is it possible that you don't know how to sew? Did you grow up in the middle of a forest?"

"I didn't - no one ever taught me. Mom was usually doing this, but she died when I was still quite young. This is one of her clothes, the only one I have left, actually. I don't want to throw it away," you confess, looking at your toes sticking out of your crossed legs.

Astarion looks up at you, then looks down at the lake and clenches his jaw. "I can understand that. I have … something that's been with me for a long time, too, and it's ruined, just like your shirt."

His attention returns to the gash.

"It's too dark to teach you now, I can see well but you can't. I'll sew it, but you'll have to learn to do it yourself. I'm not going to mend your whole backpack," she comments, passing new thread through the needle, and then bringing the cotton flaps closer together. His fingers, long and nimble, move confidently, but they tend to linger on the traces of blood. When he finished, he cut off the excess thread with the dagger he always keeps attached to his belt. "Here you go. For the stains…"

He interrupts his sentence when he sees you with your head resting on his knees, in a vain attempt to hide and make yourself small. The elf is about to say something but interrupts himself. "Is something the matter?"

You mutter a "no," but your body betrays you and you clam up even more.

A hand, cold as a piece of ice, rests on your shoulder, making you wince and look up at him. His red eyes, now a wine-colored hue because of the poor light given by the bonfire, stare at you.

"Despite my years off duty, I'm still a magistrate. I know if someone is playing games with me, and you look like you're not telling me the truth."

Your heart skips a beat.

Between his direct gaze and stern tone, that feeling of guilt that hovered in your stomach before only increases.

Your eyes wander and for a second they make contact with him, and you are certain that the elf can feel your temperature rising and your blood flowing faster.

It's not a surprise that your feelings for Astarion have intensified, but your courage has always been equal to your skill for sewing: non-existent. That's why you are a healer. You don't even have the guts to fight. Confessing your feelings to him is a greater challenge than escaping from an owlbear using slippers on a road full of mud.

You reach out, shyly, to your shirt, which Astarion holds in his free hand. He hands it to you, and immediately you bring it to your chest, hugging it like a plushie. "Thank you."

His eyes become soft, and round. A bitter smile crosses his face, making wrinkles that you were not aware of appear. "You feel less lonely when you hold it, don't you?"

You swallow, surprised by his words, and give him a confused look. "How do you know?"

You see him hesitate for a second, and then in one fluid movement, he gets up and disappears into his tent.

When he returns, he is holding a dirty blanket, which at first glance would appear to be black, but could also be gray or blue - the light is too dim to identify its color - and he sits down next to you, this time almost completely erasing the distance between you.

"This is all that's left of when I was alive," he confesses, caressing the folds of the fabric. "It was in the grave with me when I was turned into a vampire.

I never dared to fix the holes in it. I'm scared…"

"…that it will lose its meaning," you reply, finishing the sentence. "That's why I was afraid to fix the shirt. Beyond the fact that I can't sew, it's just that…"

Your words are interrupted by his lips. He reaches out to kiss you with a snap impossible to predict, one hand clutching the blanket, the other cupping your right cheek. He tastes like wine. You widen your eyes in astonishment, but you immediately surrender to it. The thought of him kissing you has kept you company on so many nights…

It is surprisingly sweet. You always imagined that a kiss from him would be sensual, full of perverse desire, but instead, it is caring. His fingers descend to the nape of your neck, bringing you even closer to him, while your hands abandon the shirt on your waist and search for his curly hair.

An eternity and an instant pass at the same time.

Astarion's wet mouth leaves you without, however, moving too far away. His eyes seek yours and your foreheads touch gently. "Your sad eyes have betrayed you since the first day I met you, darling. Your loneliness is familiar to me. I am an ultracentenarian vampire. Everyone I knew, except Cazador and my brothers, is dead."

You caress, with trembling fingers, his alabaster skin. He does the same, concentrating the touch of his fingertips on the bluish veins that decorate your neck.

He bites his lip and sighs, appreciating the beat of your heart.

This time you take the lead, kissing him. He groans as his hands slide up and down your body, masterfully avoiding any dangerous zone of it. You open your lips just enough for his tongue to begin exploring you.

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself lying on the ground, blouse and blanket safely beside you, away from the fire. He towers over you, but he is very different from when he feeds on you - a gesture deliberately offered to him after discovering his secret - he is gentle and wary in his movements. He rolls his hips and his name escapes your lips as you feel the erection press against you. "Astarion…"

"Can I stay with you tonight?" he asks, foreheads touching again.

There is a note of desperation, of pleading, in his trembling voice. The white hair, previously carefully combed back, now dances before his very own eyes, giving him a younger appearance.

You wonder if it is the effect of the wine he drank in Gale's company or if he is sincere. If it is just a way of manipulating you for an easy night of sex (and blood), taking advantage of your fragility.

However, there is something that slows down your thoughts, your paranoia, and that is his sad look. His hands are shaking, as is his breath (and to think, you were sure he didn't need to do that) now teasing your skin.

You both want to end the agonizing scream, the black shadow that envelops you when everyone rests.

That aching loneliness that slips silently under your skin. That constant thought of being nothing to no one, of dying without anyone noticing.

And, nourished by that thought, you freed both from your clothes. You don't even notice. There is urgency and sweetness at the same time. The vampire's icy, marble skin gradually warms as he enters you and gasps, blinded by the desire to become one with the one on whom he had set his gaze from the first moment. Deep, precise movements arch your back, leaving marks on his back. Slowly, you let go. Stress and sadness seem just a memory as your eardrums beats in your ears, following the rhythm of your heart. Astarion kisses you, licks you, inhales your scent, holds you under his body, then rolls onto his back to have you on top. He guides you as you abandon fear altogether, his hands explore your chest, his teeth tease your neck.

The first time you climax, you see him fight against his whole self. He growls against your ear as he leads your orgasm with slow thrusts and he whispers your name. You try your best not to scream, but it's hard when the man you've wanted for months is giving all of himself to you. You hear a rustling coming from a curtain - Shadowheart's, perhaps - and you fear the worst.

Near the point of no return, he struggles out of your warm, soft body, so different from his own, picking you up without explanation and carrying you to his tent with no effort. He leans you between the pillows and then searches for something in what you think is his backpack; being an elf he will surely be able to see something, but to you, almost everything's black. You feel him approaching you again, entering you in one fluid movement, this time without holding back moans.

"Come again for me, my dear." You hear him unfurl a scroll and whisper something - a spell of silence- then a flash of purple light breaks the darkness, allowing you to see his profile. He pleads you, lifting your legs onto his shoulders. You almost run out of breath from the position, as his erection kisses the depths of your body.

You tilt your head, offering your neck. Astarion licks your veins, stroking them with the tip of his nose and growling against your skin as his nails sink into your soft hips. "I-I don't know if I'll be able to stop." Teeth scratch the first layer of skin, making it burn, and you know he is fighting against his nature.

You stroke his hair, bringing his face against you. "I'll stop you if it happens," you reassure him. What you feel next is something you felt before: a stinging, similar to the needles that pierced your skin just before; then the languid liquid heat loosens the muscles in your shoulders. You arch your back and he begins thrusting again, drinking in your life. You scream his name, your vision goes white. You suddenly feel a new sensation: pulsations, slow and enveloping. Astarion's dead heart rises in you, thanks to the warm, sweet blood. Your movements become ungainly and desperate, and you realize he's close. Although you're almost out of energy, you won't stop him. A second wave of pleasure hits you, this time accompanied by the liquid desire that Astarion pours into you, distorting your name, unable to withdraw his teeth.

Perhaps it is thanks to the tadpoles, but your thoughts merged. The pleasure soars to the point of knocking the air out of your lungs, but it is what happens next that leaves you breathless for real.

Like a spell, you see yourself from Astarion's point of view: when he first saw you, then when he saved you several times from various enemies. In the heat of battle, you often lose sight of what is happening around you. But he has always been your shadow. You see him watching over you at night, unable to rest. And he sees you, your surreptitiously cast glances, your silent healing spells when you saw him exhausted from being feedless, moments in battle when you can't offer your blood. He moves his teeth away from your artery, but not his mouth. He drinks again until the movements of his hips become slower; then he licks the skin to let it heal. One last long, deep thrust, accompanied by equally languid licks, pushes the hot seed into your womb.

You kiss it and the metallic taste of blood teases your tongue. "You have never been alone."

"Neither have you, Astarion. Neither have you."

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #reriwrites

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oddheadd · 8 months

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Frostbite °• : ⁠｡ - Chapter I / Prologue

Weindigo/skinwalker x Reader

***

I look out of my car window and nostalgia immediately washes over me. The forest I used to play in everyday as a child, now coated in a thick blanket of shiney snow hits something in me, something that makes me feel weirdly satisfied. I eye the tiny cottages, each different in their own way and nervously bite the insides of my cheek as I try my hardest to remember wich turn to take.

My mother is dead. Despite my relationship with her, wether it left good memories or not she was a mother nonetheless and she decided to leave her cottage deep in some village, near to Buffalo to me. She took me here a couple of times before when I was a child, but there was some cautionary thingie and people left their homes for a while. Then, when it was taken care of they didn't want to move back in. Having tasted the life in a much more comfortable modern cities, they didn't want to get back to the cold and brutal lands of Haahkéyak.

Now, there's only me and probably 4 more families in the entire place. Isolation will do me good. I'll have more time to finish my book.

I pull over when I see it. All my childhood memories come flooding back as soon as I approach the two story cottage. It's old fashioned, but would still hold up today with it's minimalistic but comfortable design. I grab my luggage, as well as some groceries I grabbed along the way and unlock the front door.

As soon as I enter the familiar smell hits me. Can't really describe, it smells like old people and dust. Despite it's description it brings me comfort... Before I notice that I smell dust because it's quite literally dusty everywhere.

After turning on the electricity, gas and water, I start tidying up a little. Soon enough it starts getting dark outside and I decide to go out before the sundown.

I leave the gates and turn left, looking at the deep, dark woods I used to carelessly play in as a child.

This is a perfect place to finish my book. The setting looks almost exactly what I imagined like, and as masochistic as it might sound spending a few weeks here all alone will surely scare me.

That's what my book is about, a snowy forest with tall trees and the abandoned mansion within. So, now that I stare at the dead looking woods that seem to never end, it gives me enough motivation to go back inside and keep writing the book. I am totally not scared of being out here, in the open, all alone. Shut up.

I go back inside and time passes relatively fast. I make myself some dinner, check out my childhood photos and bring out my laptop to at least finish the chapter.

Then, I turn off all the lights and go upstairs to go to sleep. I get under the heavy blanket and cuddle into my pillows.

I concentrate on my breathing. There's no... Sounds in here, at all.

There's no cars, no drunkards fighting, hell, not even a wind or leaves shuffling - something that would be heard in a heavy forested place like this.

My breaths become slower as my heart clenches and I feel an uneasy shiver run down my spine. I don't like this.

*Tap*

I immediately open my eyes and my heart almost jumps out of its place when I hear the gentle tapping on what seems to be glass.

I let out a shakey sigh as I slowly sit up, looking over the room, trying to spot anything before my teary eyes set on the window in front.

...There's nothing.

#yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #oc #wendigo #skinwalker #yandere monster #monster x reader

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dawnoftime22 · 5 months

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"and all the things I didn't do."

| W.M -> N.R

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 10

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, drinking, alcohol, mental breakdown, and a very short moment of a creep approaching R in a bar scene.

Summary: Hanging out at the gentle redhead's apartment for a while was fun, but what happens when you happen to encounter something that makes you drop everything and fall apart?

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 5.7k

Category: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

A/N: this was...definitely supposed to be longer, but I didn't get to finish half of it, aaand it would have a lot more things to unpack soooo, I'm gonna have to separate it into another chapter... have fun tho!<3

Series Playlist

| Started on 31/05/2024, 8:15 AM |

| Finished on 06/05/2024, 3:45 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 9 Chapter 11 ->

"Yours were the hand I danced with."

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Her arm slips around your waist. In the dead of night with the streets empty, your felt her body leaning in closer, up until your lips meet for a soft, tender kiss.

For a short moment, that was it. Your heart stuttered and you couldn't help but return the gentle gesture within seconds.

When you slowly pulled back, the two of you were quiet, but she ended up only smirking and turning back to her apartment's door to unlock it. Your lips were parted as you were left to reel your mind over what had happened.

But with the door open in front of you, leading right to the home of the redhead who just gave you an entire day to remember along with the tingle of her action, you inhale a deep breath and move to walk in.

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

The morning came with you waking up on the couch, a yawn escaping your mouth as you sat up. Your mind was still tkaing in that you were in Nat's apartment, sitting in borrowed clothing.

You groggily get off the couch, standing up to stretch. The front door opens with a click, capturing your attention in a quick second.

Nat was revealed from behind the door, wearing her jogging outfit and holding what seemed to be a brown paper bag that had you tilting your head curiously.

Her green eyes traveled to you as she took off her shoes, saying a gentle "Hey," before returning her keys back to her pocket and closing the front door.

The fact that she had even come from the front door and not the bedroom surprised you further really, she hadn't made a single sound that was loud enough to wake you. Unless you were that deep in sleep. She was like a cat, padding its quiet paws.

Speaking of, there was a black, slim cat sitting perched up at a nearby window. It had been laying there, silently resting. You wouldn't have noticed it if not for the sunlight, making itself visible from the shadows...or the yellow eyes that would often reveal themselves, scanning the room for any threats.

Nat walked across the room, making her way to the kitchen and setting down the paper bag before rolling it open and peeking inside to make sure all the contents she got was in there.

While she was there, she also grabbed a glass of water, drinking it and rehydrating herself from her small running session that also included an extra part of going to a bakery somewhere. You watched her quietly, a small smile raising on your lips.

"I got you some croissant and some sausage rolls." Her voice was calm as it sounded out through the space. She grabs a sausage roll out, gesturing it slightly as she talked and took a bite out of it.

"If you like them, that is. If not, then you can just leave them on the table." She grabs the paper bag once more and sat down next to you, putting it in front of you. Your eyes stared at it for a moment, but with your raised lips you grab one sausage roll too.

"I'll try some." She watches as you take a bite, staring for a moment before getting her attention pulled by the black cat, sneakily and curiously walking closer by the couch.

Thank god for it, or she might have just stared a moment too longer. You in the meanwhile, hummed in delightment, the little treat hitting your taste buds in all the right ways.

"These are delicious," you said, now grabbing a croissant and trying it, making sure not to accidentally get any crumbs on the couch. It was faint, but there was the smallest smile on her face as she leaned back.

"Have you texted your friend?" Nat asks, getting the tv remote while her cat jumped up in her lap, almost blending in with her black joggers.

You check your phone, seeing the messages Kate sent you...along with a winky face. You had to hold back from rolling your eyes at her or shaking your head, knowing she's probably doing it just to make you stay longer.

"Mm. Yeah, she's still not home. She said she'll be back home at 2 pm." You turned off your phone and set it aside, continuing to eat the food in your hands.

"For now, I'm stuck with you," you said, nearly in a whisper. Your head turned to look at the redhead once more, her hands going through the fur of the small cat friend in her lap as you had talked.

"Well, I don't have anything to do, so..." she tilts her head, her gaze slowly traveling to you. When she looks back at the tv, you raised your eyebrows, but get comfortable on the couch anyways, choosing a movie with her.

Within the few minutes of the movie, you stared at her side profile. She was so beautiful, focused on the movie. Your mind couldn't help but drift back off to last night's memory-- Down in the dark cold streets, where lips touched with warmth. And last night...You hadn't spoken about it at all, as if it was something you dreamt when you slept in the car. And you were about to think it was a dream.

Your thoughts were bothered by the black cat stretching over to meet you, moving to curl up beside you on the couch, making you blink.

Hesitantly, you reach out to pet it, first letting it sniff your hand gently before it obliged and relaxed, making you slowly rest your hand upon it. The yellow eyes closed, and you almost feel its head tilting to lean into your hand.

"Does it have a name?" You asked, making Nat look to you, taking her eyes off the screen of the tv. The fur was soft, running against your skin like nothing.

"Liho," she said gently and simply, but now she couldn't look away. The sight of you so close to her small friend had her heart beating a little faster and swelling up. You hum, continuing to gently pet Liho's head, eliciting small purrs from its throat.

A sudden sound of an explosion came from the movie, Nat having set an action movie on, getting her attention back on the story and causing both you and Liho to snap your heads towards the sound.

Time goes by like this, all three of you, comfortable on the couch with no interruptions...almost.

As your focus drifted off, the scene being quiet with aimless talking, your eyes skimmed around the space. As you do, you notice a camera she's left on the small table, just beside you.

While she was very much into the movie and distracted, you gently grabbed the device, your fingertips brushing against the metal. It clicked on with a slide, the screen showing a high quality view of wherever you pointed it.

Gently, your teeth bit into your lower lip, and you smiled, sneakily taking a picture of Nat from the side, the screen momentarily flashing black, an indication that it processed it successfully.

At the first shot, she didn't notice, but then in the corner of her vision, she realizes you were holding something up and pointing it at her, until she sees that it was her camera in your hands.

The smallest smile raised up on her lips, and you were fast to grab a picture of that too. She heard the click, the quiet scene in the movie making it all the more obvious.

"Stop!" she lightly said with a chuckle, looking to you. You had already taken another shot, smiling cheekily at the camera screen while her cheeks dusted pink.

You put the camera down with a small giggle, and Nat quickly grabbed it to put it away from you. She was looking at the screen, possibly deleting the photos, but you couldn't tell.

Nonetheless, you went back to watching the movie, your hand mindlessly going through Liho's fur. At times you play around with the cat, its paws gently touching your skin.

As you were absolutely lost in the story playing on the tv, she holds up the camera and pushes down on the button, successfully capturing a photo of you and Liho, unbeknownst to you.

"I got you!" She exclaimed with her own giggle, looking proudly at the still moment sitting in the screen.

You looked at her and smiled, shaking your head at how determined she was to get you back.

After hours later, you managed to get back to Kate's apartment, settling back into bed with a content sigh from the day with Nat.

Your sleep was peaceful, and the day after that too, your walk nearly having a gentle jump in it from how...better everything somehow seemed.

You were walking back to the apartment, having went to grab a hot chocolate from the local cafe and just simply going for a walk.

But a touch of a hand on your shoulder had you turning around, your eyes widening as you took a step back.

You thought to see someone you've seen in the past days. Or a stranger tapping for something you might have dropped.

But...of course. After all this time. You should have expected it would happen someday.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize it isn't an illusion. Green eyes stared at you, not with red hair but with brown hair. The piercing round eyes a clear contrast to the calm almond shaped eyes you got used to.

"Y/N...Hi," her voice comes out. This was a dream. You had to be dreaming. What else could have been happening? Your breath got caught on nothing but your very own air.

"Wha--...What are you doing here?" You said. The volume of your words were faint, your face obvious that you were at a complete loss as to how she had just randomly showed up.

"I..." She seemed like she didn't have a reason at all, as if she was here for nothing. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at her, your shoulder getting brushed by a stranger this time, which had you stepping aside to let people have more space to walk in.

"I thought to grab myself a vacation." And out of all the places she chose, it was New York, you thought. She was holding a plastic container in her hand, inside, being some cake rolls.

"And...I wanted to talk to you." Ah. She chose it with the knowledge that you were here. Even better. You sighed softly, diverting your gaze to the concrete floor. It took everything in you to not simply walk away and not deal with this situation at all.

She bit her lip and swallowed down her nervous feelings, but it had no help as you look back at her. You still had that same gaze with her, full of softness. But it also had drops of sadness.

"How did you know where I was?" You asked. You haven't posted anything in ages, and Kate hasn't had you in a photo or video of her instagram story.

Wanda looks down for a moment, taking in a deep breath. You shifted your weight to your other leg, slipping your hand in your pockets.

"...You forgot to turn off your location," she revealed, not making eye contact with you for a moment. You, in the meanwhile, moved your head forward for a second and raised your eyebrows.

"What?" was all you simply said, blinking. That was far of what you expected from her. You would've thought maybe she heard from Carol, or something.

“You tracked me down?” You asked straightforwardly, and her eyes widened as she shook her head quickly, defending herself of the accusation.

“No! No, it’s not like that I…Your live location on our messages. I saw it, and you didn’t turn it off," she says, through small stutters and hand gestures. You only stared at her, trying to decipher the truth.

"But I didn't...follow you here like a stalker, I swear." She sighed, having hoped the conversation was going to start differently when she saw you.

"So you just happened to run into me?" Your shoulders went up slightly as you said your sentence, lost on how to make sense of the situation.

"It's not a lie," she said simply, and you couldn't have it in yourself to really trust her, though at this point, you didn't even care to know how she found you anymore.

You pressed your lips together, looking off to the streets. It went quiet for a moment, as if the heat of the flame that died months ago was sparking up again, and it definitely wasn't the light of love.

"I just...” She starts, running her hand through her hair for a moment as she gathered herself together to speak with you.

"I miss you. And I still love you." The words came out like a flowing river, but the second you heard the words, you were trying to hold your eyes from becoming a river themselves.

"Wanda, don't..." Your voice was quiet, teary almost. You had taken a small step back, and Wanda kept her eyes on you, hoping you weren't going to walk away all at once, leading to her losing you completely.

“I was wrong. I didn't—“ She tried continuing, her own eyes filling with tears, but you cut her off, shaking your head.

"You can't just say that." You had spiked back, and it was cutting her heart further, but its true. You didn't want to hear any more, yet she wanted to do the opposite. Wanda lowers her head guiltily, as if she was being scolded.

"I'm sorry..." She gazed down at the sidewalk, slowly losing her resolve. You didn't look at her at all, and it was obvious your heart might crumble if she continhed any further.

The open space was loud with unspoken words. And a car honking...and people's footsteps. You were in the middle of the street, it wasn't exactly the best place to have a conversation like this.

She had realized how precious you were to her only after you were gone. She was the one who had stopped giving, lost her will to keep it alive simply because she couldn't tell if her heart still wanted you.

"...But I do still care for you." She said, looking up at you once more, and you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration. You didn't want to hurt her, but there was no easy way to settle this down.

"We were happy. For four whole years, and you just decided to break it. You broke my heart, Wands." The nickname had come out so easily, only because you were on the verge of crying. You tone was nearly sharp and your volume was just a little loud. Some people passing by seemed to have turned their heads, and you noted to try and keep your calm. Wanda took a deep breath, her mind only acting on nothing but impulse.

"We were on a break." At that, you had to bite your tongue, your face losing any color it had left. The second she finished her sentence, she regretted it and she paused, completely shutting her mouth as she realized what she said.

You swallowed back some words, your mind going over just how much she had left you broken. Was that what that was? Could she have wanted a break so the two of you could process your feelings properly or just so she could have an excuse? Whatever happened to that girl she was with? Had she found out too, and broke it off with her?

"A break doesn't mean we weren't still together," you whispered shakily. The conversation was a mess, and you were sure you'll go into a downward spiral as soon as you get into Kate's apartment.

"Please, I swear I won't do it again, and if I could, I would change how everything happened. If there's anything I could do to fix it, I'll do it." You couldn't believe it. She was begging for you to take her back-- The silenced reply she had given you when you left.

"I am not having this conversation with you." You said, desperately needing to end this when you still could while she, needed you.

"I get it, but...it's over. I'm sorry." She was too late. It had been months before, where she left you lost and confused and now its been months after you had broken up.

Wanda went quiet, processing your words and how much you truly did not want her back anymore. You swore you saw her lip tremble for just a mere moment, and your heart ached at the sight.

She wanted so badly. So, so badly to keep in touch with you at least, but both of you knew it would only lead to bad news.

"Okay," she nods slowly, a small tear escaping the corner of her eye that she quickly wiped away, definitely not wanting to appear crying at the side of the street.

"I won't bother you anymore." She said sincerely and quietly. You clenched your jaw. It felt like a void altogether once again. Your heart pointed to her but your mind knew better.

"Goodbye, Wanda." You had to hold back a choked sob, slowly turning around to continue your path that was interrupted long ago.

"...Bye." She whispered under her breath, and you had just barely heard it from behind you, mixed with many other noises.

You kept walking forward, kept your hands in your pockets, trying your best to blink back your tears as you sniffled. You were sure your nose was red, and it wasn't from the freezing temperatures.

If you hadn't met the redhead you knew now, maybe you had considered going back to her. Maybe. But you couldn't bare to go through it again, the nights spent waiting for her to come home or when she would brush you off.

You don't remember how many times you've gone to Nat's apartment or met her anymore. But who's counting anyway? She didn't have any bad traits so far, so you wouldn't have a reason to stop. It's been months since the breakoff with Wanda, until she showed up again earlier.

You sighed and ran your hands over your face, finally arriving to the front of Kate's apartment. You went in, not greeted by the sound of clinking coming from a dog's collar but with the sight of Kate in the kitchen, making...brownies?

The golden retriever was napping, possibly getting bored of waiting for you to come back or was tired of watching over Kate, making sure she did the recipe right. And also interested, since she rarely ever did cook.

"Hey," Kate looked up from her mixture, hearing you open the door and close it, kicking your shoes off. Her eyes flickered from you and the bowl.

"Hey." You said simply and quietly back with a small wave of your hand, not wondering what she was doing, or barely even looking at her as you padded off to your room.

Odd. Kate watches you go with her eyebrows slowly furrowing in concern. She'll note to ask you about it later, for now counting it as maybe you having a bad day and needing space.

You gently shut the door behind you, resting your back and your head against it. Your breath quickly hitches and you gasp, a choked sob finally leaving your lips quietly as you closed your eyes.

You slid down against the door, curling up on the floor with your legs close to your body. It was no surprise you'd be here, having a mental breakdown when the sudden appearance of someone you thought you'd never see again happened.

Salty liquid ran down from your nose, mixing with your tears, and you try wiping it away with your hands, but it didn't give anything. It was all unending.

Tomorrow it was evening. You had fallen into bed messily last night and now you were still laid down in bed. Of course, you had treated yourself to your needed meals properly, with Kate gently scolding you and urging you to get out your room.

It was quiet as you mindlessly went through your phone, your body weak on the soft mattress that held you.

You were getting bored, that was for sure. Laying in bed being in a void for hours. You could watch a movie in the living room, cook...or go out and have some fresh air, but with what had happened yesterday, that was the last thing you wanted to do now.

Then an idea popped up in your head, and you thought it over. it wasn't the best idea, but to you, you had nothing better to do.

You were there again, in Nat's messages, opening it so you could type a sentence to her.

Hey, wanna hang out at a bar somewhere later?

You don't expect her to accept, and you almost don't want her to, knowing you'll probably only make yourself feel worse. But there's no turning back now.

Nat was surprised when she got the message, her eyebrows raising for a moment. You weren't always that bold to straight up ask to go out, but she was free, simply sitting at her desk with Liho in her lap as she sorted out some papers.

Sure.

She replied simply, not asking questions other than the planned time and where you'll meet, thinking you were simply wanting some fun.

She didn't know why she was still meeting you. She never liked to do...anything with anyone, yet you somehow caught her eyes. Maybe it was the fact you bumped into each other, but that help of hers with the umbrella was...intentional. She could have gone to any other person, but she saw you.

You got up and out of bed, getting the energy to go to your closet and picking out a set of clothes to wear.

Once you had changed, you made sure your phone and keys were in your pockets befoee you peek out your room. You find the space to be empty, and Kate's bedroom door closed. She was asleep, probably.

You went out the apartment quietly, making sure not even a creak was heard with how aware Lucky was of his surroundings.

Since your car was indeed...still at the airport way over in another state, you had to call a cab, getting it to bring you to the bar. The drive was short, but peaceful. There was light rain, enough to make it colder, but not necessary for an umbrella.

When you get out, you go to the entrance, seeing the brightly lit bar. Before going in, you looked around for a moment, seeing the sheen of shine from the rain on the street.

Then, there across from you in your vision, Nat comes out from another cab herself, fixing her signature leather jacket.

Her lips were painted red from her lipstick, and you couldn't help but stare at her appearance. When she saw you and walked closer, you blinked yourself out of staring.

"Hey, you good?" She asked, stepping in front of you, and you quickly nod, moving to let people in the bar and to go in yourself.

"Yeah. Yeah...lets go in," you said, going to go hold the door open for her. She hums and walks in with you, the bar instantly coming up with loads of noises of people talking, glasses clinking and being thudded against the wooden tables, and the tv hanging near the corner.

The two of you sat at the front bar, ordering some drinks so the night could start properly. You leaned against the wood, the seat being surprisingly comfortable as you turned to look at her.

"You look stunning tonight, you know," you said in a whisper, but she heard it, her cheeks hinting the smallest blush. Your eyes went over how the lighting portrayed her, illuminating her features perfectly.

"Thank you. You're not too far yourself." She replied. You weren't too far at all actually. It was hard for her to pull her eyes away from you, too.

When the bartender slides your drinks to you both, you grab the glass, starting to drink it while she took a few sips, her gaze locked on you.

You stifled a sigh for a moment. Your mind was still stuck on yesterday, and you have someone right next to you you could share your troubles to.

But her? You couldn't. You wouldn't. Especially with it being about your ex. And you couldn't deny this was simply a getaway to escape, how much you wanted to distract yourself from thinking about her at all, wondering how she was doing.

The two of you had your fun, getting to know each other better with small laughs and stares that lasted longer than whenever you were sober. Your insides were completely and utterly intoxicated by the drinks, getting caught up in the moment.

As the night progressed with the moon high in the sky, she couldn't help but notice how many drinks you started to grab, your words slowly starting to slur further and further in time.

"And that's enough for you," just as your glass brushed against your lips, she gently took it out your hands, your skin brushing just slightly, but you couldn't focus on that at the moment when you get surprised.

"Wha- No..." You said softly, disappointment evident in your voice as you tried to reach back for the drink, the glass still being half full, but she pulled it back.

"Mm-mm. You're already wasted," she shook her head, putting the drink down, but still out of reach from you. You pouted, your shoulders slumping, and she fought herself back from smiling, but at the same time she was concerned of your wellbeing.

Nat turns to the bartender, "Put it on my tab," she said, then pushed herself off the seat to stand and gently wrap her arm around your body, pulling you along with her so she could get out of the bar.

Before she could get to the door though, someone comes up close to you, saying, "What's someone like you doin' here?"

You scrunched your face in disgust. Even though you were very much drunk, you were aware enough to move backwards from them.

"Back off," she growled, pulling you closer to her by your waist as she gave them a deathening glare. Her grip was tight, protective, and almost possessive.

"Alright, I didn't do nothin'." The person puts their hands up and stepped back, retreating to their own place when they realized you were definitely not alone. Nat rolled her eyes and continued to get you out the bar.

With relief, she lets out a breath, the two of you stepping onto the cold sidewalks once more. The rain had disappeared, but the aftermath definitely had it being colder.

Nat grabs her phone out from her pocket, thinking to maybe call your friend Kate. She could get a cab for both of you, either sending you home safely or helping you get to her apartment.

But, when she sees your flushed face that was doozy with the toxins running in you, and the littlest of touches you give her or how you leaned to her body, she knew she couldn't trust herself to resist from you just yet. At least, from a kiss. Or anything she couldn't bare to imagine. Sure, she was far more sober than you, but she has had a couple drinks herself.

When she searches her contacts, she realizes she doesn't have Kate's number saved. Damn it. But just as she was about to give up and grab the cab, she hears your phone ringing with a call from your pocket.

You were drunkenly surprised, reaching in to grab your phone and flimsily holding it. She purses her lips and reached out to grab it from you, knowing you definitely won't have a conversation, much less, on the phone well, but also it nearly slipped out of your hands.

"Hey--" Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at her with yet another pout. Nat's heart melted, but she shushed you gently, putting up a finger to stop you from protesting.

Then, she looks at the screen, a sigh softly leaving her lips once more in relief, seeing it was Kate. She picks it up, putting it to her ear as she held you.

"Hello? Y/N?" Kate's voice came through the phone, sounding worried. You did leave her without her knowledge and didn't leave a note, but Nat didn't know that.

"Hey, it's Nat," she said naturally, making it clear it wasn't you or a stranger talking so she wasn't confused.

"Oh. O-Oh-- Sorry, am I interrupting something...?" Kate stuttered, and Nat's face heated up when she realized what Kate might be assuming, but she had enough courage in her to reply.

"No, no. We're at a bar. Um, do you think you can...come pick them up? I didn't bring my car," she said, hoping to everything Kate would say yes, as a good friend would.

"A bar? Okay, yeah, I'll...I'll be there." Nat heard keys rattling and movement, and nodded being reassured that you'll be safe home later.

"Thank you," was all she said before pulling the phone away from her ear and ending the call. Just as she did, she saw you were walking along the patterned tiles of the sidewalk, making sure your feet were in the squares and not hitting lines. It was a silly sight to say the least.

Well, that was, until you had almost slipped and fell, but her eyes widened and she quickly went forward to capture you, holding you up.

"Okay, you'll be alright, любов (love)," she said, accidentally spilling out a russian nickname from her lips, and you looked at her weirdly, awfully confused.

"You're talking funny," your words come out slurred and with a laugh, but it was understandable enough. She lets out a nearly nervous chuckle as you pointed at her with your finger.

"Am I? I think you're just drunk." She said, trying to play it off while at the same time keeping ahold of you, making sure you don't fall from your drunken state.

"No, you are. Or were..." you whispered gently, and in a way it made her heartbeat falter for a second. If only you weren't so vulnerable at the moment. She'd have confessed right then and there.

Kate's car soon pulls up to the side of the road, and not long after she arrives, her door opens and she gets out. Both you and Nat watched, your bodies visibly shuddering and trembling slightly from the coolness of the night.

"Hey, sorry if I took a while, is everything alright?" Kate said, her voice quick, and in just a bit of a panic. She knew just as much as the redhead did, but she was more worried, knowing you've had the brightest days with Nat as of late.

"Yeah, they've just...drunk a little too much." Nat purses her lips, patting your back lightly. She was concerned. Perhaps you just got stuck in the haze or just wanted to have some fun, but, even so, she wouldn't have drunk that much alcohol unless she was having a bad day.

Kate nods, going closer so she could grab ahold of you gently, starting to get you to her car. "Thank you for taking care of them," she said, looking over her shoulder as you sat in the passenger seat.

"No problem. Just get them home safe," her voice was husky, different than what Kate had thought, and she was definitely as pretty as you had made her out to be.

"I will," she reassured Nat, closing your car door and then going off to the driver's seat. Nat watched as the car started to move, her eyebrows pressured down on her eyes as her heart beated with concern for you.

As long as you were safe.

The drive home was quiet, Kate glancing over to you every now and then and seeing you doing a "whoa" to the streetlights passing by. Yup. You were going to be miserable in the morning.

When you arrive, she helps you out and into her apartment, her heart skipping beats every now and then whenever you would nearly slip from being so drunk. You were worrying the hell out of the woman, thats for sure.

"Gosh, Y/N, you need to control yourself a little," she murmured, laying you in bed, yet you fell against the sheets, parts of your body all over the place with your hair.

"I can't." You breathed out. Kate's concern was etched onto her features, rising in level. You got more comfortable, but it was barely any movement. The raven haired girl kneels down beside you, trying to find a reason as to your sudden change in behaviour since yesterday.

"Wanda..." You slurred her name, and instantly, Kate's face scrunched up in confusion and shock at the sudden mention, her eyes widening.

"What?" She asked, making sure she wasn't hearing things. If she didn't, maybe it was the alcohol, making your mind spin in unbelievable ways.

"Wanda...saw me in the streets and talked to me," you said slowly, your eyes slowly faltering with being able to keep themselves open. Kate took in the new information with high awareness.

"What did she want?" She asked, but you were dozily falling asleep already, and if she didn't get this out from you, you might never share it.

"Hey, what did she want?" she repeated, gently tapping your cheek with her palm. That roused you awake once more with a hum, but barely in a half awake state.

"To...to getmeback..." your words slurred, mumbled sleepily in a breath before you closed your eyes once more, Kate was taking a deep breath in the meanwhile.

"Oookay, now go back to sleep. You're...not looking too great, Y/N," she said, patting your shoulder before pulling away and standing up. But you had already fallen asleep, gentle snores coming from you.

She stared at you, seeing how small you looked. Then, she pulled up the covers to warm you up, having seen the small shivers on your skin before sighing softly.

What was she going to do with you?

end of chapter 10. <3

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 9 Chapter 11 ->

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deakyjoe · 1 year

Text

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 12

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her, British, backstory)

Category: coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: Can the two of you fix the damage that has been done? Or is it too late?

Warnings: angst, fluff, talks of injuries, British slang/terminology, strong language, mask is off

Word count: 1.4k (a baby in comparison to other parts)

A/N: Took a break from writing this series, mostly because I was burned out and had lots of uni work to be doing, but also because I needed time to think the ending through to give you all the best of what I’m capable of. It’s not as long as other parts but I feared that if I didn’t write it now then I would never write it. It’s pretty much where I always intended the story to go, just with a lot less conversation than originally planned. There will still be an epilogue after this but for now… enjoy!

When Ghost awoke, blinded by fluorescent hospital lights, and he saw Price standing at the foot of his bed with a deep-set frown... well, he knew things weren't good. It didn't help that you were nowhere to be seen. He didn't expect you to be fawning over him and nursing him back to health or anything. But no trace of you in the hospital room at all was not an encouraging sight.

"Am I dead?" Simon said gruffly, immediately coughing as his lungs clearly had something wrong with them.

Price scoffed. "You wish."

"Damn." He attempted to sit up straight, groaning when pain stabbed through his torso. "Ah, what the fuck?"

"I'd be careful if I were you. You were shot. Several times."

"Nothing new then." He sighed and looked at Price again, a grave look crossing his face. "Where is she?"

The captain hesitated for a moment before replying. "Home."

Shit, that definitely wasn't good.

"Why?" Simon didn't really want to know, too scared of the truth, but he needed to know.

"She was severely injured. Needed better medical attention than we could give her and then some time off once she recovers. She's home now but still in remission." Price checked his watch quickly, clearing his throat when he saw the time.

"Got somewhere to be?" Ghost asked, a sarcastic inflection in his voice.

The captain nodded. "Yes, actually. Already late from waiting for your lazy arse to wake up."

He only grunted in reply and waved his superior out of the room. "Go. I'll be fine.”

"You can go home to her once you've healed a bit more. For now, rest." And with that, Price walked out of the room leaving Simon in silence.

It was okay. He liked silence. Well, more he liked the lack of talking. People talked far too much about insignificant things. Strangely, he missed the sound of your voice chattering about insignificant things. He pushed that thought away and attempted to sleep for a while.

At home, in your flat, you were sick of friends coming over to visit you. Each one seemed to have some form of baked good or casserole and your refrigerator was full to the brim already. You hadn't even been home that long.

The sheer mass of people doting over you was becoming overwhelming in the most annoying way possible. You didn't need them constantly caring for you. Sure, the sentiment was nice enough but you were used to looking after yourself and healing independently. Usually you did it in the (un)comfort of a military hospital or medical tent. Unfortunately for you, you'd been sent home this time and had had no choice in informing your friends of your sudden return back. They just suddenly knew you were there and they were more than willing to help.

"I don't need you to give me a sponge bath." You'd told one with a roll of your eyes, still thinking about earlier in the day when you'd had to tell another that it was perfectly fine for you to drink apple juice and not stick to a strict diet of water.

Honestly, a part of you was enjoying being at home and having time to relax. Even though the cause of it was a little extreme, being able to sit on your sofa all day and watch reruns of old sitcoms as you made your way through every dish stacked in your fridge was nice. Almost... fun.

A part of you longed for something though. Simon. Obviously him. You craved to know how he was doing. When you'd first woken up, a nurse had simply told that he was alive and nothing else. Alive meant nothing. You didn't even know if his condition was stable.

You were worried, to say the least. And even Price wasn't willing to divulge any further information when you'd pressed him for it over the phone. He'd just mumbled something vague and moved on to asking you how you were doing.

It was frustrating. That was for sure.

The days passed and you grew restless, itching to get out of the house again. But you were sensible and followed the suggested instructions from the several doctors that had all agreed that you needed in order to heal properly. It was just a shame that it took so long to happen.

On day, what felt like, one billion of staying at home, there was a knock at the door. And after you'd taken a minute or two shuffling towards it, shouting out a stream of reassurances that you were on your way, you were utterly shocked to find your lieutenant on the doorstep.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before a ridiculous sentiment left your mouth.

"Jesus, is this like those hallucinations you get just before dying?"

Simon said nothing, just the twitch of the corner of his mouth indicated that he had even heard you, and outstretched his fist to you.

In his hand, was an apple.

Specifically, one of the good apples from the farmers' market.

You looked up at him in confusion.

"Peace offering."

That explained it. So, you took it from him and opened the door wider to let him in. You weren't about to turn down a good apple or a peace offering.

Once you'd both settled yourselves into comfortable positions on the sofa, you wincing a few times and growing jealous that he seemed to have healed so quickly, you really took your time to look at him.

You tilted your head to the side and raked your eyes over him. "You're nervous."

"Am I?" His eyebrows raised a fraction.

"Yes." You nodded.

"How can you tell?"

"You scratch at the scars on your face when something is making you anxious."

"Hm." His eyes squinted at that observation, obviously not previously aware that he had that tell.

You moved on, not willing to dwell on that. "Why are you here?"

"Visiting an old friend."

You laughed sarcastically. "Oh, really?"

He shrugged, still as frustrating as ever. "You should've left me behind."

You'd be shocked if he hadn't been so self-sacrificial in previous times.

"Why would I do that?" You asked, lacing your voice with a mock innocent tone.

"Would've been the smart decision." He snapped.

So you shot right back. "Maybe I'm not smart."

"Yes, you are. You're just stubborn."

The words he'd once told you came tumbling out of your mouth. "A stubborn brat you mean?"

"That too."

You laughed again, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're right. I am stubborn. And I couldn't let you die. The idea of you... I can't stand it. So I let you live for selfish reasons. Alright?"

"You should have let me die."

"Shut up, Simon. That was never going to happen." You rolled your eyes at him and grit your teeth when a shooting pain stabbed through your side as you adjusted your position on the sofa.

Simon's hands raised for a second as if about to help you before he lowered them again.

Instead, he asked a question.

"Why not?"

You looked at him to see if he was being serious. He was.

"You know why."

"Maybe I don't."

You sighed. He was so difficult sometimes. Yet, you gave in.

"I..." You trailed off into thought.

But Simon wasn't going to let it go so easily. "You what?"

"I, y'know, I feel..." Your hands waved around as if hoping to grip a coherent answer from the air.

"Feel what?" The slight raise of an eyebrow hinted that he knew exactly what you wanted to say.

You sighed in defeat. "You know what I'm trying to get across here, Simon."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I feel for you. Have feelings. More than platonic. I... care... for you." You cringed at your own clumsiness, wondering when you'd lost your ability to fully communicate with words.

"I know."

You punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Cocky shit."

"I also care for you."

"I know." You scoffed teasingly.

He just repeated your words back to you. "Cocky shit."

The smiles that broke out across both of your faces were indescribable.

Yeah, the two of you were being slightly more awkward about this than usual but it was never going to be easy to just jump right back in to what you used to have. Smaller steps would have to be taken. And you were fine with that. As was he. You’d get there eventually, it was only a matter of time. After all, some things were just meant to happen.

A/N: Thank you all so much for sticking with me through my hiatus! I’m sorry this is a quick resolution but the epilogue is still on the way.

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