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kashimos-hajime · 3 years

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the pawn (3/8) | r.b.

summary: He smiles. “How could I? You promised to marry me, didn’t you? Wouldn’t miss that for the world.” Or, Reiner makes a promise; you ask if it’s a challenge.

WARNINGS: general mentions of blood and injuries, minor angst, lot of subtext, and if you know where we are in the show/manga, you know whats up next pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.4k

a/n: slow descent into madness type beat ig hehehheh

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

“Shit. Bertholdt, my head—“

“Hold on.” A hand grabs yours, warm and rough, and you look up blearily to see your best friend beside you, smiling uneasily. “Give me the reins.” Bertholdt tugs it out of your grasp and you watch as he rides up ahead a few paces, leading you and your horse at the right wing of their party back to Calaneth. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I might throw up,” you explain briefly through clenched teeth. Being thrown off your horse and trampled had left you ragged, bloody, and broken, but you know you’re one of the lucky ones. “I shouldn’t be priority. I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey! Are you alright?” Reiner rides up next to you and you glance at him wearily. You cradle your sprained arm and hold your swollen shoulder in place as you nod. Your face cracked with dried tears and blood, you sway with every step back as you nod. Blood drips down your ripped pant leg and you swear the bruise is growing ever more visible but despite it all, Reiner visibly sags at seeing you breathing.

“She’ll live,” Hange calls back at them. “We managed to stop the bleeding and any internal injuries aren’t serious.”

“How do you know that?”

“Managed to scoop her up before any ribs could be stepped on,” the Section Commander explains and you nod again, straining to keep your head up. “She was a real trooper. Managed to knock a few soldiers out of that Female Titan’s way before they got crushed.”

“My horse didn’t make it, though,” you murmur, rubbing at your cheek. The sunset burns your skin and you screw up your face as a swirling sensation fills your stomach. Legs going lax, a numbness begins to crawl up your body. “I—I tried—“

“Hey, you did good,” Hange cuts sharply. “Just stay awake until we get back.”

You don’t remember what happens next. You were sitting up right, and then you pitch sideways and there’s a shout of your name. Hands grab at your shoulders but you slip, the sensation of wind brushing against your cheeks before you crash to the hard ground and black explodes into your vision.

When you awake, a soft groan rips out of your mouth and something inside your throat cracks as a figure jolts up.

“Creampie? Hey, you awake?”

Turning your face away, you let out a noise and your eyes screw shut tighter.

“You don’t have to shout,” you mumble to yourself. Your head is like a thunderstorm, lightning striking in your skull with every pulse of your heart and you wince to yourself when you move too quickly. “Shit.” Trying to move your arm, pain lances up and balls up in your shoulder, and you flinch as a hand stills your efforts. “Where—“

“We’re at headquarters. You should be okay, now that you’re awake.” Head tilting, you catch sight of a broad silhouette as the hand on your arm moves to your uninjured one, resting atop your knuckles.

“How?”

“You passed out. The doc thinks you’ve got a concussion, but we have to wait a few days until you can stay awake longer than few minutes,” Reiner continues quietly, his hand not quite leaving your bruised hand. “Shit. You scared me.”

“What? Why?” Confused, your eyebrows scrunch together as he reaches and his shadow blocks the flames for just a moment. The ache in your head dulls as his palm presses against your brow. You close your eyes. “Reiner, everything’s still fuzzy, you know.“

“You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were going to die.”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, eyes prying open gently. “I’m okay. Give me… the, uh, rundown.” You look down at your still body covered in a blanket, and Reiner follows your gaze, a dark remorse filling his gaze. Tilting your head at him, you try to smile and he accepts the effort with a tug of his own lips.

“Sprained wrist, dislocated shoulder, bruising. Your leg’s in pretty bad shape. Bruised to hell, but the doc said you’ll have a full recovery. The swelling on your shoulder should go down, but take it easy for the next month while you heal.”

“What?” You try to sit up, but he pushes you back down and your teeth clench when agony ripples through your fatigued body. Your muscles barely move, and the pain is sharp in contrast to the gauzy heat spreading under the covers.

“Don’t move. You passed out once already.” Staring into furious golden eyes, you comply and he sits back down beside you. Planting his elbows into the mattress, he buries his face in his hands with a soft groan. “Shit.” You crane your heard curiously. Lifting your uninjured hand, you set it atop his fingers but he only seems to begin to shake. “Shit.”

“Reiner?”

Fingers digging into his scalp, Reiner turns his head into his palms and you’re scalded by his flinch as you stroke a thumb over his scarred knuckles. Raising his head raggedly, golden eyes fix on your face.

Softly, as if breaking a promise: “Fuck it. Let it kill me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend that you—you—“

Confusion wrinkles your brow before a realization settles in and your hand falls as you look away. Your heart begins to wilt in your chest. “Reiner, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry? God, I want to marry you.”

You open your mouth in pure shock and your eyes fly to his face just as hands cups your cheeks and he lunges forward, lips pressing to your own hungrily. A soft noise keening from your throat, your arm drapes around his neck, pulling him close instinctively.

His hands span across your cheek, your jaw, pinkies brushing the soft skin of your neck, and your head is spinning from the serenity that flows from his palms into your body as he breathes in deeply, holds you tighter.

When he pulls back, you sink into your pillows with a dazed sigh and he brushes his thumb over your mouth, gaze never leaving your face for a moment.

“I really like you,” you breathe. His face slackens at your voice, and his lips part as if he wants to say something, but as his ochre gaze only flits all over your face, a soft scoff-like sound escapes his chest.

“Still?”

Like he’s shocked. Like it could ever fade.

“Yes, and you want to marry me. We’re all full of surprises,” you whisper and for a moment, a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as he sits back down. “C’mon. Smile for the cripple.”

“You’re not crippled.”

“Not yet, but with my skill? It’ll only be next week until you have to carry me around in your big hunky arms.” You wrinkle your nose as your hand runs down his arm, rubbing his forearm soothingly. “But you’re stuck with me now. Watch out, Braun. You don’t know what you’re in for.” He twists his wrist to grab your fingers and lifts them to his cheek. The strength drained from your arm, you can’t feel any pain anymore, only the rough skin of his hands, the warmth of his lips as he kisses your limp fingers. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe it’s him, but as Reiner meets your eyes, a loopy smile passes over your face. “I’m going to break your heart.”

Lifting his head, he clasps your hand with his other, and rests his chin atop their hands. Squeezing tightly, he swallows and his lips press into a thin line that twitches into a smile that shatters you.

“I think I’ll break yours first.”

In the future, those words would haunt you for years. You’d hear them in your sleep, lingering in the haze between your dreams and reality, and every time you looked over your shoulder, expecting him to be there.

You could never know what he meant until it was too late.

Presently, however, you don’t know any better.

Frowning, you shake your hand out of his grasp and stretch to touch his face, run a knuckle under his eye. He looks like he’s staring at a corpse, and you want to sit up, hold him to you, run your hands through his hair—a million things you’ll do once you get out of this stupid bed.

For now, you settle on, “Is that… a challenge, Reiner?”

Smile. Please, smile. I’m not going anywhere, idiot. I’m alive, I’m laying right here and you want to marry me—

His eyes flicker over your battered body, to your wrist and shoulder wrapped tight as the muscles try to stitch themselves back together. He presses your hand to his cheek and, with a haunting sadness, he whispers, “No. It’s just the truth.”

Your heart drops and you open your mouth to argue but he lets go of your hand at that moment, gently lowering it back to the bed before he stands. Cold wind sweeps in, chasing away the heat of his skin, and a hollowing feeling begins to settle inside your gut as he leans over. A pair of lips press between your eyebrows before a nose rubs against yours and you stare dazedly into warm golden eyes that are infinitely empty. They stare right through you.

“Reiner…”

“Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispers and your entire body yearns to hug him as his mouth slots against yours. Warmth pulsing from his mouth against yours, you arch off the bed. His hand at your neck tilts your chin to deepen the kiss and it is everything you never dreamed of. Gentle, and warm, and sad, and so full of an emotion you can’t name it seeps into you until your whole body is stuffed full of it.

When he draws back, a tear slides down the corner of your mouth yet when you raise an exhausted hand to your face, you’re scalded with the realization that the skin around your eyes is dry.

Returning to the barracks after another damn meeting, only an hour or so before Tybur’s damn show, Reiner can’t help but glance at the walls, wondering, wondering, wondering.

Are you listening even here, Magath?

Porco carries Pieck to the couch, setting her down gently while Reiner heads for the abandoned pot of tea from earlier. Pouring himself a cup, he sucks it down like he needs to breathe, ignoring how cold it is in his gut. Repeating, he hears Pieck’s gentle laugh as Porco crashes down beside her, leaning back against the couch.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Colt says, grabbing his jacket. “I have to go talk to Zeke about something. We’ll meet you guys there?”

“Sounds good.”

“See you later, Grice,” Galliard calls and Reiner barely manages his own farewell before the blond is slipping out of the room. There’s a beat of silence before: “Is it just me or are parents really insistent on their kids reproducing?” he continues to himself. “I was talking to Mom before the meeting and she said something about continuing on the family line. Ugh, as if I could stand a few ticks running around me.”

“You’d trip on them.”

“Exactly. What about me screams that I want to be a dad to some snotty brats?”

“They’d only be snotty because you’d be their father,” Pieck teases. “I heard someone’s mom was being really insistent on their son having grandkids,” she continues, pushing herself up and Reiner glances over to see her black-haired head poking out behind the cushions to send him a curious look. “It’s endearing. She wants little blond grandbabies.”

“Right, that’s not going to happen,” he says as the last drop of tea leaves the teapot and he is left with half a mug left. “I only have just a bit over a year left before I get eaten. Too cruel of a fate to leave a widow and any kids we might have.” He snorts. “Besides, I’m not interested in anyone.”

“I could help with that. You have a lot of admirers, Reiner.”

Yeah, right. “I’m not looking for anyone either, Pieck. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah,” Porco snorts. “I’m sure that’s the reason.”

“Don’t be mean, Pock.” A sigh and a flop and Pieck disappears from sight. “He’s right. I forgot we’re going to get eaten before we know it, and you’re going to be the only one left standing. You’ve gotta train new blood, you know. It’s so weird to think about.” Porco sits up abruptly to look down where he assumes Pieck is laying. Eyes wide, he seems to struggle for words and it’s clear that the reminder has socked him in the gut. To be honest, Reiner finds himself counting down the days at this point. “Dad’s already having a hard time with it.”

He sips on his cold tea, and it weighs like a gun in his mouth. He still remembers the feeling of it on his tongue, the slightly ashy taste of gunpowder that lingered. He still isn’t sure whether or not that part had been his imagination, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

“Pieck, c’mon. Don’t talk like that.”

“Why? It’s just how it is for us Eldians. It makes sense—we get tossed out when our bodies give up on us.”

Porco falls silent. Reiner empties his mug and walks over to set it down in the sink, bracing himself against the countertop and staring down the drain as a heavy silence fills their room.

His time is running out. He’s always been aware of that—painfully scrambling to gather the motivation to even wake up without going through with taking the Armoured Titan from Marley permanently. But... he can’t. He won’t.

He doesn’t know why he never expected you wouldn’t be there when he left. Did he think you would come quietly to Marley? A nation that set up your life the way it is now—a line of dominos one catastrophe after another? That you would come with him easily? The very man who toppled life as you knew it, forced you to join a military you didn’t want to join just to protect people?

Did he think you would still care for the man who left you, left someone who would cling to the pieces of her family left until she was bloody?

He knows that answer.

Wood creaking, he pushes himself off the countertop and heads towards the door. Two pairs of eyes burn into his side but he doesn’t care. Not even when Galliard crows at him.

“Where are you going? We have to go to the show, remember.”

“I’m taking a walk,” he replies shortly, yanking open the door and stepping through. “I’ll be back in time.”

He needs to get out of here.

Reiner helps you ease your arm back into the sling. Although you’re going insane staying in the infirmary while the others are off fighting in Stohess, his patience staves off the edge of fear at the idea of trying to stand up on your horse again. The last time—

Blonde hair. Pale eyes. She saw right through me and stopped.

Annie. It’d been Annie this entire time. Why? Why couldn’t you see it? Could you have prevented two Titans boxing it out in Stohess right now? Shit.

I should’ve known. I’m such an idiot. Why did it take for Armin to tell me?

“Hey,” Reiner murmurs, kissing your fingers. You blink, staring down at him again and he smiles faintly, straightening up. A soft pair of lips press against your forehead and you lift your head to slot your mouth against his briefly before he pulls back, stroking your cheek and sitting down beside you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Your arm presses against his and you flash him a smile. “We’re on another day of absolutely nothing, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” he affirms. You sigh. The entire morning had been spent with him by your side—breakfast in bed, him bringing you some books to pass the time—but as noon nears, you can’t help but want to get out of here. You can’t even do that.

“I’m sorry.”

He frowns. “About what?”

“I feel so useless right now. The Commander’s in Stohess, and we’re just here. We should be with him.” Trying to figure out how to capture Annie. Or doing something. “I hate that I got myself hurt. It’s just so frustrating. I should’ve been better. Moved out of the way sooner, or—”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t shoulder blame that isn’t yours.” Reiner wraps an arm around you, hand pressing the side of your head into his chest and you turn to loop your uninjured arm around his waist. “Hey.” A soft kiss against the crown of your head. “We’re going to be okay. I promise. You’ll heal up, and it’ll be okay.”

“Promise?” you echo weakly, eyes closing. Your heart pounding, you listen to his own and wonder if the same bliss fills his entire body as it does for you whenever you’re around him. Simply holding him close, you close your eyes. I think I love you, you tell him silently. Do you love me, too?

“No matter what. I’ll even put a ring on your finger when this is all over.”

“You remember,” you whisper, and he chuckles quietly, nosing at your hairline. It does nothing for the ache in your heart at the thought of your friend somewhere in Stohess locked like an animal. Is she an animal? A monster? She can’t be, you tell yourself. She’s just Annie.

Reiner’s finger brushes against your cheek, wiping something away and your eyes open when you realize it’s wet. You’re crying? How hadn’t you noticed? Squeezing him closer, you can’t help your voice from cracking: “Distract me, please. Just… tell me where we’d live. Anything.”

“Where we’d live?” he repeats, strangled, and you nod. “You’d want to come live with me? What about finding your life by the water? Raising kids—“

“Fuck all of that. I just… I just want some peace.” Throat tightening, you close your eyes again. “I want to sleep in on the weekends and I want to kiss you when I wake up, and I—“ Every thought that’s haunted you for the past few months comes back in full force as your voice clots. “I want to stop waking up feeling so heavy. I don’t want any more secrets. I don’t want to fight. I never want to see blood again.”

“Then, how about we go back to my hometown?” he suggests tightly, thumb brushing your cheek before tilting your head up. You look up at him and he smiles faintly. “There’s the biggest lake you’ve ever seen nearby. We can go to the water in the afternoons, eat all this food you’ve never had before.”

“Never had? What is it?”

He sighs, kissing your lips as his index fingers curls underneath your chin. “That’ll ruin the surprise.” Raising his hand to brush over your brow, he studies your face before cupping your jaw and cocking his head, pressing a brief kiss against the corner of your mouth. Your heart lurches. “But the weather is nice, and there are good people, and we’ll never have to worry about the war again. Sound like a plan?”

You can only nod, trying to imagine the lake he’s talking about—the shape, the shade of water, how the sunlight looks when it hits the surface. Is it cold? Does a river lead into it? All you know is that you want to see it.

“It sounds like a good plan,” you finally whisper, and something in his face softens.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continues in low tones, swiping his thumb over your lips and cheek. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you.”

“You were scared.” You give a one-shouldered shrug, pain spreading through your chest. “Maybe it would’ve been the right choice. You would’ve been rational to just let it go and I would’ve understood if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“No, I would be insane,” he corrects. Your eyebrows knit together. “How could I not feel the same way about someone like you?”

His words sink into your skin so deeply that the smile that pulls at your face makes you forget, for a moment, about all that’s wrong in the world. Exhaling a soft laugh, you fling your arm around his neck and pull him closer, their noses clashing as your lips find his in a soft kiss and he chuckles, reciprocating tenderly.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

It echoes in your chest like a song that ends too soon.

The infirmary doors open.

Springing away from one another, you look up as Bertholdt, Connie and Sasha come in, none the wiser, although Bertholdt’s eyes narrow at the lingering way your eyes stay on Reiner’s red cheeks. Wiping at your mouth inconspicuously, you adjust your sling with your uninjured hand.

“How are you feeling?” Sasha asks, approaching first and you wiggle your bruised leg gingerly. Dull pain, but manageable.

“Okay. Sleep really took the edge off.” Taking Reiner’s hand, you ease off the bed and get up as the brunette wraps an arm around your shoulder gingerly. Shuffling closer, you rest your head against hers and lean against her, trying to shake the feeling tingling at your cheeks. Sasha’s infectious heat soothes your nerves either way.

“C’mon. Let’s get you something to eat,” she continues. You glance over your shoulder at the boys who all house similar grins, and you dip your head. “You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sasha—“ You’re cut off by your own laugh as she grabs your hand, pulling you towards the doors.

“What the—“

“Sasha!”

“Slow down, Sasha!” Bertholdt calls as Sasha tries to hide her snickers. Wincing, you still can’t help your smile as you meet her nefarious gaze and you give her a subtle nod. The boys call after them as their fingers interlaced, and Sasha lets out a sharp laugh as she speeds up, tugging you along. “Hey, wait! She’s still hurt!”

“Sasha!”

“Sasha! Lunch isn’t for another hour!”

Breaking into a full sprint, the two girls barrel through headquarters, letting out peals and shrieks of laughter as the boys chase after them, screaming for them to slow down. Despite the thrumming pain in your leg, you can’t help but breathe in the way the wind whizzes past your face as they reach the stairs, jogging down and slipping out of the boys’ view.

Giggling, Sasha whispers about a shortcut and you let her lead you down a hall as the boys’ footsteps patter behind them.

Indeed, when three boys burst into the mess hall, panting and two of them even sweating, they find you two already sitting at a bench across from one another, playing a game of flicking paper at one another, and Sasha, who faces the door, can only maintain a serious face for so long before she bursts into a loud laugh and you hide your smile behind your hand as you glance over your shoulder.

You only last a couple more seconds before you’re breaking down, too.

“Your face! You should see the look on their faces!” Sasha wheezes, slapping a hand over her mouth and trying to silence herself as they come closer, but Bertholdt only looks at them with barely enough anger to scare a baby that it only makes them fall apart even more.

Connie shoots Sasha a look, wedging himself in beside her with purposeful elbow action while Bertholdt and Reiner sandwich you between them and you send them both look but Bertholdt only rolls his eyes as you clutch your stomach, gasping for breath.

“The cripple can run… faster… than you,” you manage to say achingly, poking him in the arm and you swallow, your stomach cramping up as you cover your face with your hand. “What’s the Survey Corps come to?” Your leg seems to pulse at your words, and you hide a wince as your lungs hitch. A hand settles on your thigh gently, and you look at Reiner. He raises his eyebrows and you clear your throat, voice needly. “I’m okay. Really. It’s just my leg, and even that’s not that bad, I promise.”

A firm squeeze before he lets go. Sasha wipes the last tears from her eyes, sniffing a bit.

“If you say so.”

“At least you have something to do, all injured and stuff. If lunch isn’t going to come any sooner, I think I might die of boredom,” Connie points out. “We’ve been here for like, two days, and we haven’t even gotten any updates.” Bertholdt and Reiner share a look behind you as you grab the last paper ball Sasha had flicked at you and throw it back at Connie. He winces, batting it down to the floor.

Grumbling to himself, the guy ducks under the table to grab it as Reiner gets up. Looking up, you watch as he heads for the corner of the room and you excuse yourself, following after him, still recovering from your laughing high.

Sidling beside the blond, you watch as he crouches beside some cabinets.

“I think there’s a chess set somewhere here,” he explains, opening them up and searching. “Do you know how to play?”

“No.”

“Bertholdt and I do. I can teach you.” You nod, surprised. You know chess has always been a game more suited to the higher ups. You wonder how he knows how to play—who must’ve taught him.

Reiner lets out a noise of triumph and pulls something out. Extracting some books, he ducks his head and manages to pull out a wooden box, something rattling inside. The checkered pattern is a bit faded, but he kicks the cabinet doors shut gently and turns to you, surprised to see you standing so close.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You smile softly, leaning towards him, and he cocks an eyebrow. “You’re full of surprises. Who taught you how to play chess?” The only thing blocking them from touching is the chess box between their bodies as he huffs a laugh.

“I had a friend who was older than I was. He was like our leader—knew all this kind of stuff.”

“Really?”

“His father was a doctor, I think,” he explains vaguely and you smile in amusement. “It’s really easy once you get the hang of it. Don’t worry.”

“Alright. You’re on.” You lean up just as Reiner turns his face away, and you reel back, eyes widening. The soft expression melts away and you exhale sharply, following his gaze to see Ymir glancing over her shoulder at them. Krista speaks to one of the other Scouts sitting across from them, leaving the freckled brunette to study them freely, and Reiner clears his throat, stepping back.

You duck your head, stepping back so Reiner can go ahead first and head towards the table, you following moments later.

It is easy once you learn the basic moves of each piece. Bishops diagonally, rooks horizontally and vertically, pawns one step at a time. When you don’t understand, Bertholdt explains as Reiner tries to get out of a tight spot he’s been shoved into. You really can’t tell who’s going to win as you study the board, trying to guess what they’ll do next.

Sasha and Connie look out the window, bored out of their minds, waiting for lunch as you point at a piece before Reiner can move it.

“That’ll put you in checkmate for Bertl’s next turn, I think,” you tell him, and Reiner pauses, staring at the board. Bertholdt shoots you a glare and you smile sheepishly as Reiner moves his hand.

“You’re right.” He moves his knight instead and Bertholdt scowls, moving his rook quickly as Reiner crosses his arms again. “You’re good at this.”

“I’ve got a good teacher,” you reply, smiling at him. Leaning forward on your uninjured elbow, you keep watching as Reiner turns the tides of the battle, your eyes dragging from the squares to his face. An unsettling feeling growing in your stomach, you glance at the chess pieces that’ve been taken out of action from the game just as he points out how strange everything is.

Why are we unarmed?

It wasn’t standard for them to be—that, and the lack of new orders is troubling. If anything, they should be out there with their gear on, scanning the walls just to make sure there isn’t another breach. Or even in Stohess. Why weren’t the healthy Scouts there? Wouldn’t it be more ideal for there to be more forces just in case?

Your heart drops. Unless…

Reiner stands and you look at Bertholdt who looks paler than usual.

You didn’t think much of it at first with everyone in their plainclothes, but as Reiner returns to his seat next to you from the window, you look into your lap.

What’s happening? Your eyes flit to the carved chess pieces, the one still standing as Bertholdt takes a pawn from Reiner’s side. What aren’t they telling us?

It’s not until Tomas bursts into the mess hall, demanding you directly to get ready to ride to Stohess do you understand.

“Wall Rose has been breached. You and I are riding back to Stohess to alert Commander Erwin and get you to safety.” You shoot up to your feet as Bertholdt’s and Reiner’s mouths drop open.

“I can fight.”

“There are Titans heading this way now. Without ODM gear, you might as well be dead weight.” It’s harsh, and you flinch as Reiner grabs your hand but you jerk it out of his grasp. “Saddle up, now. That’s an order from Section Commander Miche himself.” You step over the bench as Tomas turns to head out and worried murmurs break out amongst them. Your desperate gaze swings from the door to your friends who all stare at you.

“Guys—“

“Go. We’ll be okay,” Connie says, standing just as a Nanaba lands at the window and you rush out of the mess hall, ignoring the pain in your shin as you run out of the building and towards the stables. Entering, you spot Tomas already guiding out two horses and you take the reins with your hand, shrugging your injured shoulder testily out of its sling. It smarts, sharp pain shooting through you, but you shake your head.

You’d have to put it back in later. For now, tacking up a horse is your priority.

What the hell is going on? Bertholdt, Reiner, do you know what’s happening? You guys have to know what to do.

Gritting your teeth and head pulsing with pain, you manage to only be a minute behind Tomas and he helps you with the final fastenings before boosting your step up into the saddle. You take the reins gingerly, determined not to let the pain slowly growing in intensity slow you down as he leads the way out to the road.

The doors burst open as soon as they hit sunlight, and you watch as the other Scouts run for the stables. Moving out of the way, your eyes scan for one blond head in particular as Tomas calls for you to get going.

“Wait, give me a second!” Wretchedly, your ears begin to pound. “I’ll catch up to you!”

Tomas does not wait. He shakes his head, snaps his reins, and gallops out of base without another second to lose.

“Creampie!” The name makes your head swivel and you see him at last near the rear, probably to make sure no one detoured, and you wait for him to run up to you as your mare tosses her mane impatiently, pawing at the ground.

Reining her back in, you feel Reiner’s hand on your thigh before he stops beside you and you wish you could say a million things, but the most you can muster is, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He smiles. “How could I? You promised to marry me, didn’t you? Wouldn’t miss that for the world.” Winking, he runs into the stable without another word, and your heart lurches as Bertholdt passes, squeezing your knee comfortingly and sending you a determined nod.

You give him a nod in return before grabbing the reins and taking off towards Wall Rose, following the path of dust Tomas had kicked up in his wake.

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aellynera · 3 years

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Word of Mouth (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

WORD OF MOUTH

(This has been sitting in my WIPs for-ev-errrrr and I finally got in the mood to finish it, since I haven’t written Santi in a while and I missed him. It’s nothing too involved, just a slice-of-life kind of deal, but I do like the way it turned out. Comments, likes, and reblogs always appreciated!)

I think this one came out as GN!Reader (I’ve read over it a few times but if I’m wrong please let me know.)

Word Count: 2340

Summary: It’s not that Santiago is mad about it, exactly; it’s more that he doesn’t like the way it happened.

Warnings: Some cursing. Some angst. Some fluff. Argument. Two people being stubborn. As always possible lack of proofreading.

Santiago comes off duty and returns to your on-base housing, and he stays quiet for far too long. Usually he greets you with a kiss, or at least a hello, but this time he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t say a word as he goes into the bedroom, peels off his fatigues, and changes into a plain black t-shirt and plain khaki cargo pants.

He doesn’t say a single word.

“Um, hello to you too,” you call out, getting up to follow him. “How was your day?”

He just shrugs and shakes his head slightly. You get the same response when you ask him if anything interesting happened today, how training went, or if he’s hungry.

You haven’t seen him for most of the day, different assignments and different meetings keeping you apart while on duty, but you just know. From his silence and the way he’s acting, you just know. You’ve been trying to find the right way to bring it up, the right time to mention it, and clearly, that time is going to be now whether you like it or not.

He’s found out.

Even when different assignments keep you apart, you do work on the same base and everyone knows you’re together, even if you never officially said anything. It’s really no one’s business but it’s not really a secret, and you live together, so people just assume. And anything work-related was never unknown for long. Word has gotten back to Santiago, and from the looks of it, it has also gotten to him.

The fact that you can’t actually read his expression is what concerns you the most.

You sit down on the side of the bed and sigh again. “Frankie told you.”

Someone who had been in that early morning meeting with you, a particular someone Santiago identified as a best friend, certainty couldn’t keep it to himself. You make a mental note to have a very, very strict conversation with one Francisco “Catfish” Morales the next time you see him.

Santiago considers calling Frankie, so he can repeat exactly what he told Santiago this afternoon, after you’d already gone back home for the day. Instead he finally decides to answer you, his voice flat and dangerous.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s my job,” you reply evenly.

“It’s your job if you get assigned to it,” he runs a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s not your job if you volunteer for it. That’s a choice.”

You furrow your brow at him. “Semantics.”

“Selection,” he responds, voice clipped.

You rest your head on your fingertips, four on your forehead and thumb on your cheekbone. “I’m the best person for this mission. and.. it’s not like it’s never come up before. We’ve had this conversation, Santi, we’ve talked about this exact scenario, and you even said that no one was more…”

Santiago raises an eyebrow. “Hypothetical and actual are not the same thing.”

“So, hypothetically, I’m not actually qualified to do this?”

“Actually, you should let someone else be the flag-waver this time.”

“The flag-waver?”

“What, now this hypothetically has nothing to do with being a goddamn hero?”

Your head snaps up and your eyes narrow at him. He glares in return.

“Actually,” you start, but Santiago’s short, humorless laugh cuts you off.

This time, your words drag through the tension like dull razors through styrofoam. “Actually,” you repeat, “this has zero to do with being a fucking hero and everything to do with the fact that no one else could get this done the right way and it is my goddamn duty to do what I signed up for.”

“There is no right way that this isn’t going to be an absolute shitshow.” The venom in his voice is like ice in your veins.

“Thank you for having so much faith in me and my abilities, Santiago.”

Silence falls on the room for a few long minutes as you both fight to check your emotions. You understand he’s angry - and maybe scared, although he’ll never admit it - and he knows you’re absolutely right on all accounts - although he is not ready to admit it.

You break the silence, voice tuned down and level. “Look, I wanted to tell you myself, but I didn’t see you all day. I didn’t want you to find out like this. Frankie shouldn’t have gotten involved. But I am going on this mission. I...I don’t want you to be mad about it.”

He looks at you for a moment, and this time you can read his expression, but it almost makes it worse. It’s a combination of worry, sadness, understanding, and yes, traces of anger. It’s not a look that suits him.

You shift in your spot on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed,” he says softly, then turns and walks from the room.

Oh. Shit.

***

The rest of the evening passes in a thick, uncomfortable silence. It’s been hours since your confrontation in the bedroom, and the fullness of night has fallen without a single other word being spoken between you.

You spend the night in bed alone, and Santiago makes himself mostly uncomfortable on the couch.

Morning breaks and you pull yourself from the confines of the comforter. Not that you had been sleeping very well anyway. It was warm under the covers, temperature wise, but it somehow felt so cold, and you haven't slept well. Your mind refused to calm down.

You shower and dress, going through your morning routine almost on autopilot. As you wash your face and glance into the mirror, one side of your mouth pulls up into a sad smirk as you recall Santiago’s last words from the night before.

Not mad, disappointed.

Your parents used to say that, when you’d done something against the rules, potentially stupid, and possibly morally questionable. It always seemed to hurt more than actually having them be mad at you, and you wince as you realize adulthood has done nothing to change that feeling.

You and Santiago have your fair share of arguments. Usually they’re not serious, even kind of playful. You both like to talk and you both like to be right, so a little verbal battle isn’t uncommon. But you’re still running the previous night’s...it wasn’t a conversation, but was it really a fight? Was it even an argument? No category really seems to fit, and this one just feels different.

You go downstairs and expect to find Santi on the couch, it’s still early, but as soon as you hit the bottom of the steps, the smell of freshly brewed coffee assaults your nose.

He hands you a mug full of the dark brown liquid as you enter the kitchen. You take it with a nod of thanks and he nods back. But he still doesn’t say a word.

It’s a good sign though. At least, you hope it is, anyway.

You sip from your mug as he turns back to the stove, pushing some stuff around in a frying pan. It smells like bacon and potatoes and your stomach grumbles in protest, and you’re not sure but you think you can see the corners of Santi’s mouth turn up just a little.

Also a good sign. Maybe.

You sit down at your usual spot at the table and play with the handle on the mug. You offer him a singular glance and then stare back into your drink. Clearly he’s not going to be the one to talk first. You sigh.

This is not the first time he’s done this. Santiago is a good man, the best you know, and he’s honorable and decent and so fucking kind, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned since living with him, it’s he’s damn stubborn and can be a petulant brat when he wants to. And in typical macho hero Santiago Garcia style, he will not be the first one to cave after an argument, especially when he thinks he’s right.

You’ll give him shit for it later, when all the animosity has worn off, but for now, you’re going to have to cut the tension. You’ve never been good with silence and it’s only been one night and now this brief bit of morning and it’s starting to get to you.

And okay, maybe you’re not always the best at communicating with him, either. So you’ll be the first to break, this time.

You sigh again. “Santi…”

He turns his head slightly, away from his work at the stove, and glances at you. An eyebrow goes up.

“Are we going to talk about this? For real?” you ask.

He shrugs and turns back to the contents of the pan.

A frustrated growl erupts from your chest as you push your chair back and take the three steps over to the stove. You grab the handle and push the pan off the heat, snapping the burner off as you do, and then whirl and stare at Santi. He narrows his eyes and takes a step back, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter by the sink.

“Please say something to me,” you bite out. God, he’s so frustrating sometimes. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first, but you cannot be upset with me for doing my goddamn job. For doing what I signed up to do. Just...fucking talk to me. Please.”

This time it’s Santi who sighs, and he runs a hand through his hair and massages a spot on the back of his neck. “I told you, I’m not mad.”

“Okay,” you nod, “but you really also can’t be disappointed.”

“I’m not.”

“You can’t just be...wait, what?”

“I said,” he says, uncrossing his arms slowly and reaching for one of your hands, “I’m not.”

You just blink at him and bite your bottom lip.

“I just...I don’t like the thought of you being out there without me.” Your mouth opens to retort but he holds up a hand to stop you, and you close it again and he continues. “I know you can do this, I know you’re totally capable and you can handle yourself, you could probably kick my ass on any given day in sparring, but...I just…” his voice trails off and he turns to stare out the kitchen window.

You squeeze his hand firmly and pull his attention back to you. He looks so handsome, his hair still tousled slightly from sleep and his t-shirt wrinkled from being on the couch all night, but he also really does look troubled and it makes your heart drop. “What is it, Santi?”

“There’s always a danger with any mission,” he says softly. “And it just kills me that I can’t protect you. I just want to protect you and have you come back safe.”

Then he’s pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your neck, and you feel wet spots on your collarbone and it makes tears prick at your eyes too. Santi shakes slightly in your arms and you whisper soft, soothing words into his hair.

He’ll never admit it, but you know. He’s scared.

Because he’s not wrong. This mission has the potential to go sideways and tits-up at the same time, and then flip over backwards for good measure. And you have to admit, although you’re not going to admit it to him because that would likely make it so much worse, that you’d give anything to have him on this mission with you. But you can’t. You can just do your job and do it well, prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

A common mantra in your line of work. One that you always stick to.

But you have so much more to lose this time, and Santi does too, and your breakfast is forgotten as you take him by the hand and drag him back up to your bedroom. You lead him to the bed and lie down on your side, pull him down with you, and curl up into his side. He just wraps his arms around you and holds on like you’re a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to come back to you,” you trace your fingers over his dog tags.

“I know,” he kisses under your ear.

You hope you’re telling the truth. He hopes you’re telling the truth. You both hold each other like it might be the last time, even though it won’t because you’re not leaving for several days, but you’re both acutely aware that you have no way of actually knowing when it might really be the last time.

So you just hold each other silently for a while, until a thought occurs to you and you huff out a gentle laugh.

“What?” Santi asks you, peering at you with heavy lids and stupidly long lashes.

You lean up to kiss him on the nose. “Wanna help me run some strategy?”

His answer is cut off by the very insistent complaint from your stomach. He quirks an eyebrow. “Wanna have a breakfast meeting?”

You giggle. “Probably a good idea.”

Santi plants a kiss on your lips and then gets up, holding out a hand to pull you off the bed and you stand, stretching your arms over your head. He goes to the doorway and says, “I’ll go finish making the food. Meet you at the table in 20, Lieutenant.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” you smile at him.

He moves to leave, and then calls out, “Oh, and Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Santiago?” you roll your eyes, another giggle escaping your lips.

He sticks his head back in the door, just for a moment, just long enough to take all of you in with a look of adoration, and mouths the words “I love you.” Then he turns and goes downstairs.

And you know you can handle - no, you will handle - anything that might happen, and your heart soars.

~end~

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cursestothemoon · 4 years

Text

Paging Dr. Weasley

Requested: yes

George Weasley x fem! reader

Warnings: strong language, asthma, fever and illness symptoms, food

Word Count: 3031

Summary: George is excited to go see the new products at Zonko’s and the harsh weather isn’t going to stop him. The reader has asthma and she's a bit apprehensive about going out in the cold, dry weather but George insists it’ll be fine. George, unfortunately, is wrong.

***

The night prior it was quite clear to you that the weather would be horrid. The wind, aggressive in nature, thrashed and collided with the walls of the stone walls of the castle. You were fortunate, however, tucked under your boyfriend George’s arm, asleep in his warm dorm. He had insisted that you stayed the night with him, when it got cold out he got clingy, and you had no objections to his suggestion. The following day you were to venture down to Hogsmeade with George, a week ago the plan was made when he mentioned needing prank supplies from Zonko’s, Fred unable to go because of a weekend detention he got himself. With the oncoming storm you had assumed that tomorrow’s plans had been canceled, knowing from past learning experiences the harsh cold was no help to your asthma.

Light flooded through the window in George’s dorm, a bright white that pierced your eyes even as they rest under your lids. You turned away from the harsh light, nose pushing into the warm, inviting chest of your boyfriend as you tried to slip back into a deeper sleep. A deeper sleep would not come, it wasn’t long after you turned that you were fully awoken by a deep groan.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, I told Lee to close the stupid curtains when he got in too.” George grumbled, hand smacking against his face to cover his eyes.

You were silent as you slowly shimmied yourself higher onto the pillow, motioning for him to lower himself so his face would be in your neck, concealed from the morning sun reflecting off the night's snow. George happily complied, humming his gratitude as he nuzzled into your neck before placing a gentle kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

“Who opened the fucking window?” Fred’s voice was heard after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

His tone showed his clear annoyance, followed by a groan and the shuffling of covers probably a result from him angrily pulling them over his head.

“I might’ve forgotten.” Lee answered from his bed making Fred chuck one of his pillows at him.

George groaned into your neck, “Will you two wankers shut up. We’re trying to sleep.”

“We?” Lee and Fred asked in unison before Fred continued, “Is Y/n there with you?”

George and you had retired to bed quite early last night, and neither of you expected Lee or Fred to check to see if George was alone last night before going to sleep.

“Yeah she’s here so shut up.” George grumbled again.

You could hear Fred, or Lee you weren’t sure, as they moved around in their bed before they spoke. It was Fred.

“Was the poor girl buried under the blankets all night?”

You decided to respond this time, “No, I had my face out to breathe.”

“Guess it’s time to get up.” Lee grumbled, moving to swing his legs out from under the covers.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains we’d all still be asleep a bit longer.” George sassed as he moved to sit up, not before giving you a good morning kiss on your forehead.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains…” Lee mimicked in a high voice, getting up to go to the bathroom.

Deciding that sleep would not be achieved until tonight, you too, sat up, knuckling at your eyes as you leaned against George’s chest. He circled his arms around your waist, placing another kiss to the crown of your head.

“Morning, pretty girl.” He rasped into your ear.

Unfortunately it was loud enough for Fred to hear and make a gagging noise as he turned away from you two.

“Disgusting. When you guys leave feel free to close the curtains, yeah?” He mumbled from under his covers, a few tendrils of fiery hair poking out.

You shuffled your legs over the edge of the mattress, standing up and stretching before grabbing the pillow you had been using to go over and smack Fred from over the sheets.

“Get up you wanker.”

He yelped before sitting up abruptly, hair a literal mess with strands sticking out randomly, “Georgie! Your girlfriend is attacking me, make her stop.”

George pretended to think for a moment before answering, “No. I don’t think I will.”

Fred feigned offence before also getting up and out of bed, his maroon boxers with green ‘F’s on them were quite the sight.

“Mate, it’s snowing out. How are you only wearing your knickers.” Lee asked, coming out from the bathroom.

“Run hot.” Fred answered simply with an overly flirty wink directed at Lee.

“Merlin…” George muttered, shaking his head as he got out of bed.

You smiled at your beloved, his hair- much like his brother’s- a frizzy mess of red locks and his eyes still puffy from just having woken up, but unlike his twin, George had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old Gryffindor t-shirt that he had cut to show his midriff. He was quite literally perfect, his pants hanging low on his hips- just exposing his v-line- and his t-shirt, now crop top, ended just above his belly button, an auburn happy-trail in view.

“You ready for today?” George asked, pulling you out of your less than innocent thoughts, his knowing smirk a clear sign that you had been caught ogling at him.

You stood for a moment in thought, “Today?”

George nodded, “Zonko’s, butterbeer, our plan to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I thought we would postpone that, the weather is horrid.”

He peered out the window before turning back to you, “It isn’t snowing much anymore, I think we should be in the clear.”

“Don’t you have asthma though? Won’t it make it act up?” Fred asked as he slipped on his shoes.

You nodded slowly, moving to fix the astray sheets on George’s bed, “Yeah, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go out today.”

George pouted slightly, “We’ll bundle you up extra warm, and it’ll be quick. You’ll be ok, you haven’t had an attack in so long.”

You knew why he was so keen on going, Zonko’s had a new line of products that he was dying to get his hands on. He’d been talking about it for months, he and Fred finally saving up enough money from selling their own things to go purchase a few things. You felt bad, and he was right, you hadn’t had an asthma attack in a while so perhaps you’d be fine.

“Alright, but we’ll need to stop by my dorm so I can get my thick scarf. The one that goes up over my nose.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it anyother way.”

An hour later you and George were ready to go, two scarves- one long enough to go over your nose- a beanie, fuzzy socks, and a pair of George’s mittens were part of the outfit you were sporting. You felt a lot more confident in your attire now, nothing could go wrong...right?

It went wrong.

So very wrong.

The first half hour out on the town was fine, a bit chilly but George was there to wrap an arm around you and pull up your scarf so it covered your nose. Then, as the forty-five minute mark hit, you started to feel a bit...wheezy. The scarf kept slipping, the wind had picked up, and it was extremely dry out. Once it hit an hour you were in a full blown asthma attack, having to pull out a rescue inhaler- something you made sure to bring with you no matter how confident you were at first- and George felt absolutely terrible as he watched you try to catch your breath in The Three Broomsticks.

George rubbed a hand in comforting circles on your back as you took a few inhales of your inhaler trying to stop the painful wheezes. You reached behind you, putting a hand on his to try and tell him it was alright and you didn’t blame him, knowing he’d be beating himself up over this.

Once your breathing had leveled enough for you to string together a few words uninterrupted, you turned to your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry but I think it would be better if I went back.” You muttered, voice still a little raspy.

George crouched down, face to face with you sitting in a chair, as he spoke, “Baby,” He cooed, “You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry I forced you to come out knowing you have asthma and you were worried. I should’ve been thinking more about you, pretty girl.”

You shook your head gently, “It’s alright George, you were excited. No one needs to apologize, let’s just go.”

George silently agreed, moving to remove his scarf as you stood up. He pulled up your scarf so it went over your nose and wrapped his own scarf around it in hopes of it staying up better. Once he was happy with his work, he grabbed your mitten covered hand and you two walked out of the little pub.

Fortunately, you two got back to the castle without another asthma attack hitting you. George took you straight to his dorm, and sat you on his bed. The dorm was empty, it was still rather early in the day, but you felt your eyes start to droop as fatigue from the asthma attack, shivering in the cold, and fighting your way through the snow all came crashing down on you. You were also starting to get a headache, something you were definitely not happy about.

The lanky ginger noticed how tired you started to look and felt his heart melt all while guilt nearly ate him alive. He knew it was his fault you were feeling so bad, but your tired eyes and grabby hands at him made him smile.

“We need to get you changed, love.” He said quietly, going to his own trunk to pull out a sweater and pajama pants for you.

With his sweater and pajama pants in hand he got down to his knees in front of the bed where you sat and started to unbutton your coat. Once unbuttoned he helped you shrug it off, then helped shed all the other layers until you were in a thin t-shirt before pulling his sweater over your head. You moved to take off your bra but George muttered to let me, his hands sliding up under your shirt to unhook your bra, then letting you shimmy around to get your arms out before grabbing the undergarment and putting it in his trunk- he doesn’t need the boys coming in and seeing his girlfriends bra.

He then unbuttoned your jeans, slowly helping you pull them down your legs before replacing them with his own pajama pants.

“Stan for me for a moment.” He said, going to tie the drawstring in a neat bow to make sure the pants didn’t fall off of you.

“Thank you Georgie.” You smiled leaning into his chest.

“No problem, love. Let’s get you into bed.”

You shuffled onto the bed and situated yourself under the covers, looking up at George expectantly making him chuckle.

“You take a nap, I’m going to go get us food alright?”

“Ok.” You nodded, getting comfortable.

Before George was even out the room, you had fallen asleep, the day had taken a toll on you evidently. He smiled at your peaceful form, asleep in his bed, before carefully leaving the dorm to go grab some food for a late lunch.

George came back with the food fifteen minutes later, but he couldn’t find it in him to wake you up just yet. He waited around an hour before gently kissing your hairline to wake you up, but he grimaced at the unusual heat that your skin held.

When you woke, you felt fine, maybe a little lethargic, but fine. Usually asthma attacks didn’t take this much out of you but perhaps it was just because of how intense this one was and your head was still pounding.

You two quietly ate, George asking how you were every so often, you responding with a soft ‘alright’ before going back to the sandwich he brought. When the food was finished you crawled back into George’s bed, still feeling a bit sluggish but the food helped.

“Can you lay with me?”

George nearly awed audibly at how soft and small your voice was.

“Let me just change ok, bubs?”

You nodded, “Wear the cropped shirt please.”

George chuckled at your request but of course complied, pulling the shirt over his head and letting it fall just above his belly button. You smiled at the sight making him shake his head before pulling his own pajama pants on and climbing into bed next to you.

Hushed conversation started between the two of you. He was sitting up slightly with your head placed on his chest. As the sun went down and the other boys came back to the dorm, you let the melodic thump of George’s heartbeat lull you to sleep.

***

The night was a bit rough to say the least, George barely got any sleep due to his worrying about your wheezing. You didn’t usually wheeze when you slept, so it worried him. You on the other hand woke up with a stuffy nose, painfully dry cough, and achy muscles.

You were sick.

Even worse, it was Monday morning and you could not muster up the strength to get yourself dressed and to class. You had woken up first that morning, an aggressive cough pulling both you and George out of sleep. Once you the coughing fit had subsided you turned to look at George.

“I don’t think I can go to class today.” You pouted.

George pushed your hair out of your face as he answered, “Don’t worry about it, darling.” He placed an open palm on your forehead, “You’re burning up.”

Just as he had said it your body shivered before you erupted into another coughing fit.

“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled. “You are not leaving this bed today, and I’ve just gotten word that Dr. Weasley is in.”

You let out a raspy laugh, “You don’t have to miss class, I’ll survive.”

George shook his head, “Nope, I’m going straight to McGonagall to tell her that you are sick and I need to take care of you.”

He left before you could protest any further.

You turned around, getting comfortable again, and started to doze off before Fred piped up.

“I thought you two would never quite fucking yelling.” He groaned.

Lee responded for you, “Shut up you twat.”

***

George jogged to the transfiguration classroom still in his pajamas getting interesting looks from the people in the halls. He didn’t care though, not when his little love was sitting in his bed sniffly and sick waiting for his cuddles.

He made it to the classroom and pushed the door open, startling Professor McGonagall and the few students in the room.

“Mr. Weasley! You cannot just come stampeding into my ro- what in Merlin’s name are you wearing?”

George caught his breath before speaking, “Professor, Y/n is sick and she can't come to class and since she’s sick she obviously needs me to take care of her so I also cannot attend classes today.”

“Is Miss L/n alright?” McGonagall asked, now worried about the girl.

“It’s my fault, I took her out in the cold yesterday and her asthma acted up but now she’s also got a fever and she was wheezing all night.” George rambled, the guilt coming back.

His Professor put her hands out to stop his rambling and push him toward the door, “Alright, alright, you go take care of the poor girl, both of you are excused for today and tomorrow if it’s necessary. If it gets any worse take her straight to Madam Pomfrey, understood?”

George nodded and McGonagall continued, “And for Merlin's sake next time send someone else to come tell me, we do not need you strutting around the school in- in- whatever this is.”

She gestured toward George’s outfit making his ears turn pink, realizing just how many eyes are on him at the moment.

“Right, of course. Thank you.”

***

George made it back to his dorm just as Lee and Fred were stepping out to leave for their first class of the day. He offered them a quick good morning and ‘see you later’ before making his way to you. He found you asleep in bed and tucked the covers under your chin before sliding into bed with you, pulling you into his chest as he let sleep take over.

A few hours later he woke up to you already awake and reading a note, he assumed it was attached to one of the two bottles that had been placed on his bedside table sometime while he was asleep.

“Who’s that from?” He asked, sitting up and looking over the note.

“McGonagall, she sent up medicine.”

“How sweet of Minnie.” He smiled pulling himself out of bed, “Alright, let Dr. Weasley read it.”

You laughed, “Dr. Weasley?”

He nodded feigning shock, “Yes, Dr. Weasley, and I’m going to nurse you back to health.”

George plucked the note from you and read it over, taking in all the instructions on how and when to take the medication which he assumed were the two bottles.

The rest of the day passed with George waiting on you hand and foot, bringing up food, rubbing your back, cuddling you, you name it he did it. He also did it all in his cute little crop top that definitely helped speed up the process of your recovery.

Now as you lay in bed, George tilts your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips but you stop him before he can.

“You’ll get sick.”

He chuckles, “I’ve been kissing on you, and cuddling with you all day. I’m going to get sick either way, pretty girl, so please let me kiss you on the lips at least once today.”

“Alright but we can’t tell anyone, I don’t think it’s very proper of me to be snogging my doctor.”

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Text

amor vincit omnia — akaashi keiji

↪︎ O2. I CHOOSE YOU

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a/n: i absolutely hated rewriting this chapter after it glitched out the first time 😔

since the beginning of your first year of university, you and the rest of your lovely friends had been eating in the library, specifically the large round table secluded and at the very corner for every meal without fail, and nobody really cared to stop you guys for two reasons. For one, no one really goes into that corner of the library that only collected dust, and two, you guys were there so often that you all befriended all the librarians to the point they stopped coming by to tell you guys to leave and eat in the canteen instead.

you were placed between daichi and kiyoko, counting the seconds by as they worked diligently in silence, munching on their lunch in the process. daichi tapped on the keys on his laptop rather quickly, the impact of each click being unnecessarily loud while kiyoko was cross-referencing documents and highlighting lines of never ending texts in a nice muted green color. tsukishima, on the other hand, was too preoccupied reading his book. eyes completely glued to the novel resting in his hands as he readjusted his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. sugawara was out and about somewhere in the sea of towering bookshelves to find a book to read, mentioning something along the lines of—and you quote, ‘something to quench his thirst for entertainment.’

it was honestly just his fancy way of saying that he was bored out of his goddamn mind. perhaps you were the same, eyes wandering your surroundings for something, just something to capture your attention for a few moments. it wasn’t at all difficult, actually, considering how pretty your university was.

higashi university had always been your dream college. not just by its blatant aestheticism, but the academia as well. with tanaka and nishinoya being your main friend group during your high school days, it feels rather refreshing being surrounded by other incredibly smart individuals than constant brain rot.

(no offense to tanaka and nishinoya, you loved them to pieces)

and as your mind began to wander, so did your gaze. from admiring the library’s interior to looking out the window, your lips slightly curved down into a frown.

it was only noon and the clouds were already darkening the sun’s piercing rays that usually shone through the large domed windows of the library. it was going to rain soon and for a couple hours as well.

it’s quite peculiar to think about now after you received that damned chain letter. earlier this morning, while shoving on your wool sweater and trousers, that even the weather app on your phone didn’t show any signs of inclement weather until an hour after you texted your group chat in an awkward panic.

you didn’t really pine yourself to be so superstitious. if anything, you were the complete opposite, and yet, here you were worrying over the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance.

tsukishima lifted his gaze from the words printed on his novel as he pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. he flickered a look at you, a smirk appearing on his visage the moment he noticed the way you stared at a single drop of rain on the window, flowing down rather slowly.

that stupid letter of yours was still in your hand as well. he watched you fiddle with the corners, careful not to mess with the mahogany red wax stamp that sealed the envelope.

“have you thought about which poor, unfortunate soul you’re going to give it to?” he asked, smirk still annoyingly evident. this was the third time he asked you this question in a span of three hours.

you flicked your eyes towards him coolly before it fell onto the letter in your hands. "ask that question again and i’ll be sure to send it your way, tsukishima.”

“i’d like to see you try, honestly.” he muses, “your best bet is probably slipping it into one of your professor’s inboxes. maybe professor oshiro, by chance?”

“please,” you snort, “she only gave me one failing grade that i eventually made up in the end.”

“just give it to a random stranger,” daichi cuts in, eyes still glued to his laptop as he typed his fingers away. dark circles dusting his eyes like a dark shadow. law school was certainly doing its works on the likes of poor, poor sawamura daichi.

he shrugs, evidentially fatigued when he meets your eye.

“that way your grades won’t have to potentially deal with the consequences if your professor finds out.”

you nod, humming in response. that would be terrible.

sugawara then emerges from the maze of bookshelves, holding up a book towards you with a smile on his face. “found one,” he beams, tossing it atop the messy table.

you reach for the book as sugawara pulls out his chair whilst he mutters something to his daichi about his whereabouts.

“wuthering heights?” you say the title aloud and capture kiyoko’s attention along with it.

“yeah. have you guys read it?” the silver-haired boy asks. he takes your opinions quite seriously knowing how much of an avid reader you and kiyoko were. whenever he needed book recommendations or opinions, he would always go to you two.

you nod, “i quite liked it.”

“some parts tend to be slow, though.” adds in kiyoko, taking the novel from your hands and flipping through the pages briefly before slipping back over towards sugawara. “it should keep you occupied for a few days.”

you chuckle slightly, giving her a look. “you forget how slow suga is at reading. the few days it takes us to finish a book is a good month for him.”

offense coated sugawara’s expression as he lets out a scoff in retaliation. “don’t you have a chain letter to give to someone?”

“she’s stalling,” tsukishima teases.

“am not!”

“then want to go give it to a random stranger then?”

your brows draw together, “right now?”

tsukishima nods as he stuffs his belongings back into his bag. “i’ll come with you for shits and giggles.”

a sigh escapes you, rolling your eyes as you take a look at the letter one last time and wanting to laugh at yourself for doing all this. a full chain letter from front to back, with the first quarter of it is you viciously apologizing that you had to do this in neat cursive handwriting, all written in fifteen minutes.

you gave in.

“fine,” you huff as you grab your own bag as well.

“good luck,” kiyoko muses up at you as you squeeze past her.

tsukishima waits for you until you’re by his side, strides shorter than usual just to match your pace as you two navigate through the labyrinthine arrays of bookshelves. the letter was in your hand, all small and discrete for a quick and easy delivery to an unsuspecting victim. your palm perspired slightly as you kept your eyes open, scanning for an easy person as you were aware of the possible repercussions.

you could easily get in trouble for doing something this childish, but you were in too deep already.

“hurry up and find someone, we’re almost at the entrance already.” tsukishima hisses in a harsh whisper.

“i’m working on it!” you hiss back.

“working on what?” a familiar voice asks then, capturing both you and tsukishima’s attention, whipping your heads towards the owner.

kuroo combed his freehand through his hair while he had two textbooks tucked under his other arm. he gave you a smile.

you never really got close with kuroo despite meeting him at nationals a few years back. despite only talking a few times due to him being good friends with tsukishima, you knew he was nice, incredibly smart in the sciences, and yet oddly awkward for someone as good looking as he.

not him, you thought to yourself, too nice.

“a little project,” the blond immediately answers just like that. “our majors tend to overlap sometimes, so we decided to partner up.”

“nice, i’m here with my friends to study as well.” kuroo states, causing your eyes to scan behind them for any evidence of their rambunctious selves.

like kuroo, you weren’t close with any of them either. if anything, they were just mere acquaintances on the precipice of becoming strangers. regardless, they all seemed quite nice too from your lack of interaction with them.

tsukishima says something in response then, igniting a short little catch-up conversation with an old high school friend as you lay distracted. your eyes flicked down to a study table in front of you, one of the chairs just a foot shy from you had a satchel hanging off of its side. the brown leather flap was wide open with its owner nowhere in sight as you gave your surroundings a once over.

carefully, you made your way over the table, pretending as if you were taking something out of your bag as kuroo was being distracted by the blond. neither of them were looking at you fortunately. as you placed your bag back over your shoulder, you slipped the letter right into the open satchel right at the same time–the envelope falling and disappearing into the depths of the bag.

“i’ve got to get to my next lecture,” you say to the two men, giving tsukishima a sly wink that it was a job well done. “i’ll see you guys around.”

checkmate.

fun facts! —

after kiyoko graduated and moved to tokyo, (y/n) and kiyoko kept in touch by sending each other cute handwritten letters

no one really is aware of that area in the back of the library since no one goes in that section often (this is uhh,, an important detail for later 😳)

taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added!)

@channiechanchan @elianetsantana @suhkusa @agaashesmilktea @dwcljh @duhsies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @kitsunetea @morpheus-rex @noeminemi @ntimacy @kurokenchan @kittyddandnyla @amboisez @komouri @stargirlara @itsmeaudrieee @immxnty @spicyshinsou @bombardia @yammerss @crescenttooru @tadashi-simp @sunanyaa @saikishairclip @marvel-ing-at-it-all @seijqhigh @normalisthenewnorm @allielozoya @peteunderoos @inflxxtions @peg-legz4 @kawafika @apollochjld @bap-kingdom @yongboxerrr @kenssister @galacticyoongs

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi scenarios #akaashi imagines #akaashi smau #akaashi fluff

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songbirdsingingthings · 4 years

Text

Luminescence - Armin Arlert x Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Season 3 & kinda 4 spoilers

Requested by Anonomys:

Hello,I hope you have a beautiful day! Could you please make an imagine of Armin and his s/o (either fem or g/n,whatever is more comfortable for you to write) about their night routine when they go to the sea and just relax in each other's presence?(everyone has already seen the sea for the first time) soft armin hours 24/7😭

I have been FEELING the Armin feels so much recently. This little blonde boy has just captured my heart. I hope you like it, I had so much fun writing it!

Word Count: 1.6K In and out the tide would go. All day, never ceasing, the ocean would move in and out in a steady rhythm. Sometimes the waves would be a little more rough or even shallow, but they would ebb and flow all the same. It became a comfort for you ever since the Scout Regiment had built the new headquarters by the ocean. There was always a buzz throughout the buildings; Eren doing this, the Marleyeans saying that. It all grew so effortlessly tiresome that by the end of the day you were fatigued, your shoulders were aching, and your head longed to be nestled into a soft feathered pillow. There was one thing, however, that you allowed to capture your attention rather than allow your brain to turn off and sleep. Armin Arlert. With his newly cut blonde hair and his mind brimming with knowledge, he had managed to weave his way into your heart and invade your senses, bringing with him all the things you never thought you could hold dear.

“Y/N, you’re free to go. Just take that paperwork back with you and have that analysis done by tomorrow.” The recently appointed Commander Hange tells you, flashing a quick smile before sweeping up her own materials. Across from you Captain Levi had already stood up from his chair and was making his way out. Finally Jean, who was seated to your right, huffed a sigh.

“Preparations are never gonna end are they,” He laments, pinching his fingers to the bridge of his nose. You give him a pity smile and pat his shoulder.

“Not until Hange and Levi think that they’re good enough.” Jean rolls his eyes and stands from his chair, stretching his arms out.

“Alright, well, I’m outta here. See ya tomorrow.” He sighs. You wave your hand in farewell and gather the several papers and briefings into your arms and drag yourself out of the little conference room. You groaned as you felt your several aching limbs weighing you down and the pounding in your head. Making plans for the invasion of Marley were no joke and surely took a toll on your brain. In a decent amount of time, you make your way to the beach huts where you found Armin waiting your steps, his nose buried in a book. A light smile spreads across your face.

“How was your day?” You asked, causing the blonde to close his book and jog over to your side.

“About the same as yesterday. You?” He says softly, taking your hand in his and walking the both of you into the little hut. You simply hum and lean a bit more into Armin’s side, which told him basically everything he needed to know. You were tired, your brain was fried, and you wanted his company. With a content grin, he placed a kiss to the top of your head and had you sit on one of the chairs in the small living room. “How about I grab some dinner while you shower? I’m sure Niccolo won’t mind if I take a couple of plates from the dining hall so we can just eat here.” He suggests. His proposition practically makes your heart sing at the thought of having a quiet meal, just the two of you.

“I’d love that,” you say earnestly, placing your paperwork on the low table in front of you. “And even if Niccolo won’t be happy about it, he’ll be too distracted by Sasha to notice.” You quip, earning a laugh from Armin.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

The shower you took was heavenly. Since everyone was having dinner, you had first dibs on the hot water and you basked in it. Your body smelled of a light lavender, every bit of grime was wiped off of your body, and even your hair was washed. The change of your clothes also helped to brighten your mood. Gone was the white button up and cargo jacket - you were all comfy in the light and airy sleepwear. The soft fabric seemed to kiss your skin in such a sweet way that you felt you could fall asleep right then and there. But, the savory smell of freshly cooked seafood worked its way into your senses causing your eyes to snap open.

“Dinner!” Armin called. You rushed your way towards him, and more importantly the food, in excitement.

“Looks yummy.” You say, helping him set down the trays of food and laying out the utensils. Dinner was a little quiet, since both of you were super hungry and dinner tasted fantastic.

“I read something rather curious,” Armin says, instantly gaining your full attention. He was always finding something new every time he read a book. Whether it was the genetic property of a fig leaf or certain characteristics of different types of rocks, you always found it interesting to hear.

“Do tell,” you urge, using your fork to bring the last little morsel of food into your mouth.

“It’s a sort of natural phenomenon called bioluminescence. Unlike a shooting star, though, it’s actually caused by microorganisms that light up when agitated.” You pause a bit when you hear his explanation, confusion flickering across your face.

“They light up?” You wonder. Armin nods to you in response. “But whenever we’ve been outside and in the ocean, I’ve never noticed anything lighting up.” Armin takes your response into consideration and leans back in his chair a bit. It takes a minute for his brain to connect all of the dots, trying to think of why no one has ever seen anything that was somewhat supernatural in the water before. Then, like a lightbulb going off in your head, you stand up suddenly causing Armin to jump a bit. “Because it was daytime!” You conclude, grabbing hold of Armin’s hand and ushering him out of the door. Neither of you bothered to slip your shoes on beforehand, so your bare feet met the somewhat chilled sand.

“I don’t even know if these kinds of organisms are native to our area though,” He says warily, squeezing your hand.

“It doesn’t hurt to look!” You say cheerily, all of the former exhaustion leaking from your body as the cool ocean breeze swished your clothes and hair. Finally, the two of you made it to the shoreline. The waves were constant as ever and reached just before your toes before pulling back. “You said they lit up when they were agitated, right?” You ask, looking to Armin who was standing by your side.

“Yeah,” he says as he rolls up his pants so they don’t get wet, “so any touch from us should make them glow.” With a deep breath and a cautious expression, you extend one of your feet over the water and very slowly let it sink into the water.

It was as if your touch was magical. The second your foot met the water, a bright blue light surrounded it. A gasp left your lips, immediately followed by a smile as you let your other foot go into the water, causing the space surrounding it to glow even more. You looked back to Armin who was currently marveling at the discovery, and he quickly joined you in the water. The deeper you got the more the water lit up. The light blue reflected across your faces, shading them in an azure hue.

“Armin…” You murmur, breathless at the sight, “it’s beautiful.” Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulls you into his side. In front of you, he lets his hand fall into the ocean and drags it along, the water behind it leaving a brightly-lit path. “What was this called again?” You ask, looking up to his awestruck expression.

“Bio, uh, Bioluminescence,” He says, hesitant as he’s taking everything in. Finally, he looks back up to you and smiles widely. “Think of everything else that the ocean can hold.” He gushes. As you look at him and his infectious grin, only one adjective comes to mind. Delectable. You move your lips closer to his as you tug his collar down, bringing with it his head. He gets the message quickly. He raises his hand, now wet with seawater, to your cheek, his thumb swiping across your lips. You had no idea where he had gotten so confident - Armin was a gentle lover. Usually he preferred to cuddle rather than to engage in a makeout session and favored forehead kisses. Maybe he had seen someone do that or read it in a book, but you didn’t care - it made your heart race. His lips met yours passionately, wrapping both of his arms around your waist tightly and pressing you as close as possible to his chest.

“When this is all over,” Armin says breathlessly, then going back for a second kiss. “When this war is done.” Another kiss. “Let’s live on the beach. We can discover everything this great blue abyss has to offer.” One final kiss. You lean into his body as he embraces you, situating his chin on top of your head.

“That sounds lovely,” you hum, nestling your head into where his arm and torso meet. The two of you stay like this for a moment, basking in each other's warmth and presence before the chill of the air got to be a bit too cold for your liking.

“Should we go inside? Burrow under some blankets?” Armin asks, both of you wading your way out of the water. His hand is in yours again, swinging them a little. You give him a grin and nod as he leads you back into your and his shared hut.

“Bioluminescence, huh.” You say, still marveling at the glowing sight. You made your own discovery too. The closer you looked at Armin’s eyes, the more you saw that glow of the blue water. Both brimming with energy and both inviting. Their presences are equally calming to most, but to you, it was all him.

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a-detraque-barista · 4 years

Text

Bread and Blood

Yandere Vampire Jimin x Reader

Genre: Yandere, Horror, Angst

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: blood, abuse, anxiety, insecurity, yandere themes, mentions of religion, reader getting ignored??

A/N: Hello hello everyone~ this took me s o long cause it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written but I hope you enjoy~ @strwbrry-lia

(I created the aesthetic myself 😊)

“Now now, Blood Bag. No need to get emotional over someone like him” whispered the blood-sucking monster that stood in front of you. Blood Bag. That was the ‘cute’ nickname he had come up with for you. The man in front of you wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The same hand that he put on your shoulder to make you look at him. “Why don’t you stop crying over that good-for-nothing for one second, and tell me what you were doing.”

Even though he used the word ‘why’, it was not a question. It was a command. Living with him for five months has taught you what different tones of voice he had. It was a wide range and some blurred with others making you tread lightly at those times. But right now, you knew you needed to respond correctly.

“I was just going to pack my things and bring them back home,” you choked through your tears as you tried your best to sound convincing.

“Tsk tsk, blood bag. We’ve talked about lying and that it’s bad. Haven’t we?” his grip on your shoulders became tighter as his red orbs stared into yours.

When you didn’t respond he repeated his question, “Haven’t we, blood bag?” His hand that was still covered in blood trailed the slope of your neck and wrapped his fingers to where you were struggling to breathe.

You quickly nodded. His fingers eased but did not leave the scarred and bruised skin. His eyes landed on the bite marks he’s left and couldn’t help the shiver slither up his spine. You were doing things to him that no one else could. Ever since he found you broken and beaten in this very building, his infatuation for you has only grown. How this happened, you have no clue. From the first time he bit you, you’ve been trying to leave his clutches. But you have no home, the only friend you had is now lying on the floor dead, and your family hates you. However, finding a place to stay wasn’t the only difficult part. The undead, blood-sucker wouldn’t let you leave.

“You always seem to be up in the clouds. Tell me, blood bag, what are you thinking about?” he spoke in his usual sickly sweet tone, masking the beast that was hiding.

“Thinking about how I got here,” you confessed and finally noticed you were back in the living room you’ve had to sit in for so many months.

“Well, that’s easy,” he stepped impossibly closer with his hands now cupping your face. “I saved you.”

⠽ ⡰⠑ ⠍⡠⠑

Tonight was no ordinary night. Tonight was Halloween. One of the most liked holidays. When kids go trick or treating and teenagers along with adults get drunk. Frights and screams are all around except for your little apartment at the edge of town. Your apartment was cold and dreary as you sat curled in your favorite corner. You were waiting impatiently for the inevitable beating that was coming for you. The knocks at your door went ignored as you cowered behind your bed.

An hour of waiting ended in a thunderous pounding at your door. Covering your ears did nothing to drown out the loud banging. Suddenly, in the middle of your panic-filled mind, you think of the fire escape outside of your bathroom window. You just had to get your legs to work before you could carry out your scattered plan.

Using the bed to help you up, you slowly and shakily make your way to your bathroom. You groaned internally as you realized this was the window your landlord had warned you about. It was the one that got stuck and needed force with special angling. You’ve never opened this window so you had no idea how to open it. Your fear overcame your pessimism making you try your best to get the window open.

After time and time again, you couldn’t open the damn thing. Stepping back and taking a deep breath, you tried to calm down. You heard the door bust open making your head snap to the bathroom door that was still ajar. Quickly closing and locking it, you tried prying open the window again.

Someone was looking out for you up there because the window had finally budged, allowing you to crawl out and onto the rusted fire escape. You shut the window closed just in time as you saw your father burst through that door. Flipping him off, you climbed down quickly and into the alleyway. You began to run as fast as you could, already knowing your father was only now exiting the front door of the building.

You ran and ran. Even as your lungs began to burn and your legs aching, you kept running. The bruises and cuts on your face and stomach hurt more than anything at that point. You knew you couldn’t stop until you found somewhere he wouldn’t find you. Where no one would find you.

Then, the old abandoned warehouse where thirteen people mysteriously died came into view. Practically skidding to a stop, you were panting while contemplating if you should go in. Convincing yourself it would only be for the night, you squeeze through the wood that blocked the main door.

The air was no colder than your apartment so the clothes you had on were more than enough. You sat down on the floor next to the door that read ‘office’. The letters were faded and there were small bits of them missing. If you remembered correctly, this factory was almost seventy-five years old. The broken windows and cracked foundation proved as support for your guess.

After catching your breath, you stood up to head into the office. Looking around to see if anything was interesting. As nothing popped out at you, making your way upstairs seemed to be a good idea. That was until you saw him.

The man wasn’t necessarily tall, but he was still taller than you. His back was turned towards you but you could see the terror on the girl’s face that noticed you. Tears were rushing down her features as she winced in pain. Her voice was lost when she tried calling to you for help. Her face paled and her eyes rolled back. The woman’s body dropped to the floor and the man inhaled deeply. You heard the hitch in his breath and you backed away as slowly as you could manage. Unfortunately, glass crunched beneath the heel of your shoe. Without thinking for too long, you turned around and sprinted back down the stairs.

“Fuck no, not doing that shit,” you mumbled to yourself as you tried to exit the factory as fast as you could.

You felt a hand grab the back of your hoodie causing you to fall onto your back with a grunt. Turning over to your side to ease some of the pain in your back, you see a pair of shiny black dress shoes stand in front of you. With the tip of his foot, he pushed onto your shoulder so he could see your face better. His head tilted to the side, causing his hair to show more of his eyes that were glowing. The crimson color almost distracted you from the rest of his face.

His jawline was sharp and tilted up slightly as if he was looking down at you in a more demeaning way. His full lips that were covered in drying blood tugged into a smirk. He hummed as if thinking about what to do next. He planted his foot back down on the concrete floor before crouching down. You had to admit, the murderous man was even more handsome up close but you sadly couldn’t focus on him right now.

Your head began to feel light and fuzzy the more you looked at the man. Closing your eyes maybe wasn’t the best idea, but your head was suddenly submerged in pain. You moved the hand that was gripping the opposite shoulder to your head. It did nothing to take away the pain but there’s not much you could do as a killer stood above you, planning to do who knows what.

“Don’t worry, blood bag. I’m not gonna do anything to you...yet,” you heard his honey-like voice before feeling him wrap his arms around you. “My name’s Jimin, and you’re going to love your new hell.”

⤐ ⤐ ⤐ ⤐

Five months later and you were in, just as he said, hell. You have scars from his fangs all over, fatigue from blood loss, and an appalling adoration for the man who has brought you to his home. What he called home, you called hell. Not only were you used as livestock, but you were tormented by the fact you had fallen for your shepherd.

You hated calling him by his name because you thought it fit him so well and rolled off your tongue like it was meant to. So you called him anything but his name.

He was still locked up in his room like always and you’ve already ventured the enormous house, there was practically nothing to do. You’ve been staring at the wall so often you can no longer sit on the couch, where you’re certain has an ass print from you. Nothing in this mansion intrigued you anymore. Should you maybe...leave the house? You’ve never attempted to leave since you figured he would punish you for it. But how would he know if he’s always in his room or workspace?

You got up from your bed to look into the closet of wonders you’ve never bothered looking through. You just see a comfy set of clothes and go with that since you don’t do anything. Luckily, you found an outfit that matched your style. You didn’t have any money so it would just be a walk around the town, and getting to know exactly which town you were in.

It was a lot easier leaving than you thought was possible with a vampire living there. The house was on an isolated street but you saw old and rusted signs pointing towards the town. It was maybe a twenty-minute walk with you humming and slightly tripping over nothing. It was nice to finally get out of that suffocating house and go for a walk. The air was brisk and made your lungs feel like they were fully inflating.

Once you got to the main road of the city, many people were seen walking. Either by themselves or with children. The day was nice but it seemed there was an event going on. Crowds weren’t your thing so you decided to keep exploring the quaint town.

Walking by bakeries, craft stores, and many other family-owned shops. It was all different to you, having lived in bigger cities your whole life. You were walking by the only bookstore you’ve seen so far and decided to go in. It smelled of old paper and incense. Tall aisles were filled with any genre you could think of and more. You couldn’t remember the last time you were in a bookstore.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” a deep voice broke you from your thoughts as you turned towards the man it came from.

“Oh, no, just looking. Thank you though,” you smile slightly before continuing your way to the back where the sign read ‘Folklore’.

“Well, it’s just that I’ve never seen you around town before. You just move here?” he followed you while asking his question.

“Yeah,” you didn’t feel like talking at this point.

“I figured. Well if you need someone to show you around I’d be more than happy to-”

“Yeong-Jun, go bother somebody else. She’s obviously not interested,” another voice interested the man that was pestering you.

The guy next to you huffed before leaving the store and you looked to see who had said that. He was behind the counter where a register and binders sat.

“I’m sorry about him, he does that all the time,” he smiled gently at you before going back to the small paperback in his hand.

You went back to scanning the spines of the books that sat in front of you, but your eyes kept glancing at the nice man who helped you out. You couldn’t help but think that maybe the two of you could be friends. He seemed nice and he obviously liked books, same as you. But what would you even say to him? Talking first was never your strong suit, or just making friends in general. You never knew what to say so maybe, it’d be best to just leave him alone.

At this point, you didn’t even know why you were taking so long in the store. It’s not like you could buy anything. Sighing, you headed towards the exit before the man at the counter’s voice stopped you.

“Didn’t find anything interesting?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just that I don’t have the money for it.”

“Oh, well...How about you take one anyway?”

“I’m sorry?” you turned back to face him.

“You can take a book of your choosing. Think of it as me lending it to you. For free,” he said through a chuckle after seeing your expression.

“You sure?”

He nodded before motioning at all the rows of books. Swiftly, before he could change his mind, you made your way back to the Fantasy section and grabbed the one you had been eyeing almost the whole time.

You stopped at the counter, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, just bring it back when you’re done and you can borrow another one,” he smiled so wide it made his eyes turn into crescents.

You tried hiding your smile while nodding and exiting the store like a child who had just gotten candy. Books have been your only entertainment ever since he kidnapped you. There was no television to watch, no laptop, or a gaming system. The castle held no form of technology besides electricity for the lighting and sound systems. No matter where you were in the house, you could always hear music. It was beautiful yet sad performed by a group of woodwinds, brass, and many other instruments.

It’s good music to read to. You decided to head back to your hell. Wait...Why...Why would you go back if you were able to walk out the front door, be gone for almost an hour, and walked around town with no questions asked?

You turned around and headed to the church because that was the only place you could think of that would let you stay for free without worrying too much about a creep.

The last thing on your mind now was the thing that was holed up in his room, becoming hungry.

You slowly opened the door to the only church in town that was almost as big as the castle you came from. Not seeing anyone, you fully entered the building with the book in your hand. You tried to walk as quietly as you could but your shoes hitting the polished tiles caused echoing that bounced off the high ceiling walls.

“Hello? Is someone there?” a voice was heard coming from the side. You didn’t respond as you heard footsteps coming closer. “Oh, well hello there. What can I help you with?”

“I-I...I was wondering if I could, um, stay here for the night?” your social skills have suffered tremendously because of the anxiety your family has caused.

“Oh dear child, of course, you can. God’s house is always open to anyone,” he guides you to the other side of the building where he opened a door showing a long hallway.

As you walked down the large corridor, you noticed all the doors you passed by. Some were closed and some were opened. The opened ones revealed empty rooms with a bed and nightstand. You assumed the closed doors were occupied rooms.

“Many people stay here, all for their own reasons. We have a dining hall just around the corner, baths are just past that, and you are always welcome to join sermons,” he stopped in front of a room that was at the very end of the hall. “If you need anything, we have many sisters throughout the church that will be happy to help.”

“Thank you,” you slightly bowed before entering the room.

“Of course,” he closed the door and walked to a random spot in the corridor. He placed his hand on the wall while whispering a murmur in Latin. A door opened and he entered.

He descended the spiral case of marble stairs before coming to another door. This door had carvings of so many symbols, you couldn’t count. He touched a particular one causing the door to creak open.

“You all felt it as I did,” he spoke loudly before he sat down in his designated chair.

“You wouldn’t be able to,” another pastor said sarcastically.

“Will he come?” asked a nun.

“I do not know,” sighed the pastor who showed you to your room.

“Will you protect the girl, Claude?” asked a woman who sat in the middle of the table.

“Yes.”

✨

You had fallen asleep almost seven hours ago, according to the clock that hung on the wall opposite of the bed you laid in. That was the most sleep you have gotten in about two years. Insomnia was a bitch you knew all too well. Being able to sleep for so long made you full of this energy you haven’t experienced in so long. A knock was heard at your door before a nun poked her head in.

“It’s time for supper,” she said softly.

“Thank you,” she closed the door after slightly nodding to your response.

You sighed before looking out of the window that was close to the ceiling. You slept and found a place to stay but now what? You couldn’t live here so close to him. Yes, you loved him but it was unrequited and you knew it. It’s not like you could help it. In the little time you’ve spent with him, that didn’t involve your blood, he was kind and his smile gave you a serotonin boost. The way he was gentle with the plants he had and how he disagreed with the disgusting morals of characters from a different era. All of these things made you grow feelings for the undead immortal. Maybe it was because you’ve never encountered such a personality. But who knew?

You climbed out of the bed and headed to the dining hall with the book in your hand. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a meal that wasn’t frozen or from a restaurant. You never felt like cooking even though you knew how, you just never felt like it.

The volunteers were kind as they offered you everything they had. Sticking with only the bread and stew they made, you sat down at an empty table while beginning to read the book you picked out from the store. The front and spine read Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by April Genevieve Tucholke.

Someone had sat next to you making you look at them in the corner of your eye. It was the priest from yesterday. He had a plate of his own filled with stew, bread, and rice.

“I hope I am not disturbing you,” he motioned towards the open book in front of you.

“Oh, uh, no. It’s fine,” you nodded making him smile softly.

“What brings you here?” he asked while respectfully eating his bread.

You had to think carefully about what you wanted to say. You couldn’t just tell him that a vampire had kidnapped you, but didn’t care enough to keep an eye on you.

“I ran away from home.”

“Why is that my child?”

“My father- he uh…he would hit me...a lot, so one day I ran away,” it wasn’t a complete lie. That is what had happened at the beginning of all of this. However, your town was most likely miles and miles away.

“I am sorry, my child. Do you still, um, have bruises or anything?” he was hesitant in the way he spoke hoping he wouldn’t upset you.

You nodded causing him to sigh. Some people were truly out of God’s reach and your father needed to be punished for abusing as he had.

“Where are you from?” he asked looking back at you.

“Seoul.”

“Seoul? My, that’s ways away from here. How did you get to Busan?” he was shocked by how far you have traveled and was curious how you managed to get down here. Of course, he knew how you got there but he wanted to know if you trust him or not. By how long it took you to answer, it was obvious you didn’t trust easily.

“Many many buses,” you lied through your teeth, to a priest no less. Good thing you lost faith a long long time ago.

“I see,” bells rang in the distance signifying everyone that supper time was over and it was time to either go to your room or do chores. “We’ll get you started on chores tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded once again before standing up and taking care of your tray before heading back to your temporary room. Started on chores?? How long does he think you’re staying here? Now that you know what city you’re in, it will be much easier to get back to Seoul. You just had to find a way to get back and then figure out where you were going to stay. Your mind went to the book in your hand

You laid down so the growing headache could maybe stop from spreading from your frontal lobe to the cortex. Setting your book on the table beside you, sleep was your best choice at the moment.

Candy apple eyes stared down at the pathetic looking ‘House of God’. The eyes held hatred and disgust for the building and the oh so holy salvation that occupied it. The man’s features turned sour thinking about all the bothersome puppets that have tried to kill him, more often than not.

He wasn’t here for them, no-no. He was here for you of course. At first, he didn’t even realize you had escaped. Your scent was covering every inch of his mansion so it took maybe a whole day before he realized you were gone. The vampire was in his office so he wouldn’t bite you so much. Whenever he drank your delicious blood, he felt it course through his veins, he felt the warmth he once did when he was alive, he felt. And that terrified him. He was scared of the feeling, but he didn’t want to lose it. So he spent hours and hours researching from the very scripts his ancestors and others wrote, trying to find a way to keep you forever.

Now he’s sitting there thinking, how fucking stupid could he have been to let you leave like that. All the doors had normal locks so it wouldn’t take much brainpower to figure them out. If he didn’t get you back before another creature claimed you, it would be over. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. Because you were different. He knew that. Your smell, your taste, and your personality. All of it was so entrancing and he let it slip away just like that. Maybe he was just being dramatic, but what vampire isn’t? Maybe it was a good thing you escaped. How else could he hunt for such scrumptious prey? He loved to hunt before he fed but that usually ended with his prey dying. This time, he was going to keep you. Not only for your blood but also for you. The sarcastic remarks you made had made him laugh, your smile made his unmoving heart skip, your eyes told a story that only you knew. Yeah, he wasn’t going to let you go.

The priest who had welcomed you had once again descended the marble stairs into the secret hideaway. Once the nun saw him approach she spoke loudly, “He’s already here and you’re playing tea party with the girl.”

“No need for malice, sister,” the priest sat down in his usual chair and placed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He knew he was here. Years of training his perception had been fruitful.

“I wouldn’t need to be malicious if you would just do your job!” her voice reverberated against the walls and back to them.

The woman sitting at the head of the table cleared her throat before addressing the nun who had gotten out of line, “Do not point fingers, let alone yell in the House of God, sister.”

The nun sat back in her seat while crossing her arms. She had never encountered a vampire before and she wasn’t trying to now. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Exhaling, she stiffened. She felt powerful energy that she wasn’t able to identify.

“Hello~” Jimin stood not too far away from the table but far enough to where no one could touch him before he could move. “Let’s negotiate.”

↬ ↬ ↬

It’s been a week since you’ve arrived at the church. You haven’t seen the pastor since that awkward dinner in the hall. Maybe he realized you couldn’t be helped and decided to move onto the next person. Who would help you right? You’re just a nobody who has parents that hate you. That’s normal...it’s all you’ve ever known. You sighed as you hung up the last piece of clothing on one of the lines. Not wanting to spend all day at the church again, you decided to take the book you finished back to the store. Hopefully, the nice employee was working today.

You went back to your temporary room to grab the book before you made your way to the exit of the building. On your way to the exit, it seemed like all the nuns and pastors you’ve passed we’re trying to distract you. First, a nun had asked for help with cleaning the rooftops, which sounded like a pointless job that would take all day. So you politely declined but when she insisted you told her you can help after you take the book back to the store. Then, a pastor had asked how you’ve been feeling and if you’re comfortable in your room. Saying yes to both and walking at the same time, you were able to get out of that conversation fairly quickly. And as you placed your hand on the door, two more nuns were asking you questions about you and where were going. Thankfully, another nun held their attention while you slipped through the crack in the doors.

You let out a sigh of relief and made your way to the bookstore. It felt nice to get out of there, at least for a little while. The weather seemed windy today and the clouds were slowly becoming a dark grey. Hopefully, a storm will come by. That’s always when you slept the best no matter where you slept. You were never able to sleep well, but on nights where you could hear thunder and see flashes of lightning, it lulled you to sleep, unlike any stories or songs.

Your mind suddenly went to him. Does he like storms? You stopped walking for a second, realizing your mistake. How could you think of him like that? Your cheeks get warm before you start walking again to try and forget about him and focus on getting another book.

Who cares if he likes storms? Certainly not you, he means nothing to you...do you mean nothing to him? You sighed as you weren't able to stop wondering about the handsome man that captured you months ago. It kind of made you sad that he hasn't come to find you yet. Your thoughts had you passing the bookstore before the employee from before calls out to you, “Hey!”

You snapped your head up and looked around before your eyes landed on the person who called out to you. Looking around again, you realized you had walked by the store without noticing. Your cheeks turned red before you made your back to the store where the worker waited for you with a smile.

“I think I have one you might like,” he motioned for you to follow him to the desk. He told you to set the book in your hands on the cart to the right and slid a different one on the desk.

It read Between the Spark and the Burn, the sequel to the book you had just returned. “I didn't see this the last time I was here,” you carefully picked up the book and held it in your hand by your side.

“I noticed the book you chose so I requested it from the next town over for when you finished the first one,” he sat down on the wooden stool that was rickety and old.

“Thank you,” you said quietly while keeping your gaze anywhere but him.

It’s been a while since someone did something nice for you. You're usually the one doing things for other people. You could see him smiling in the corner of your, making you realize that you were also smiling. Your cheeks were beginning to hurt so you decided to introduce yourself, “My name’s Y/n.” Hopefully, that was the right way to begin this conversation.

“Taehyung, a pleasure,” his smile grew before he covered it with his hand.

You nodded before reluctantly walking towards the door. Just as it closed behind you Taehyung was met with somebody standing next to him. He casually looked to see who it was only to find his best friend.

“Jimin~ it's been so long since you visited!” he stood up to give Jimin a hug and Jimin reciprocated. “What brings you here?”

“Turns out, you were just flirting with the girl I was talking about,” Jimin sighed as he straightened his posture to not look as short compared to his friend.

Taehyung’s eyebrows shot and pointed his thumb towards the door where you just exited. Jimin nodded before pinning him to the wall, “And you're gonna help me get her back.”

⤐ ⤐ ⤐

“Y/n!” your name echoed throughout the spacious corridor. You turned around to see the priest waving to you while jogging to catch up to you.

...you don't remember ever telling him your name. You began to panic so you quickly made your way outside and into the garden to hide behind the large rose bushes.

You heard him calling for you but stayed behind the bushes and went deeper into the rows and rows of red and white roses. You let out a sigh before sitting on the ground more comfortably.

“Blood bag, how come you haven't come home yet?”

Your whole body stiffened, but surprisingly relaxed. But now wasn't the time to question your muscles. You looked up to see the man who you thought you wouldn't have to see again.

“I've missed you, ya know,” he crouched down so his piercing eyes could be level with yours. It reminded you of the first time you met, back in the warehouse.

You remained quiet and averted your gaze to a wilting rose at the bush behind him. What were you supposed to say to him anyway? Did you miss him too? Of course, you did, he has given you more attention than anyone in your life. Up until you had spoken to Taehyung a couple of days ago.

“Blood Bag, it’s rude to ignore me,” he cupped your face with his hands decorated with silver rings.

“You ignored me for days at a time but that doesn’t matter, does it?” your anger got the best of you, making you regret even opening your mouth. You watched as his eyes widened slightly before he smirked.

“It does matter because I was doing something very important in that office.”

“Of course, what would be more important than using me as food whenever you felt like it.”

You saw his eyebrow twitch at your smartass comment. You didn’t know what had gotten over you at that time. You were usually the pushover but it seems that something about this vampire made you want to talk back. Maybe it was the smirk on his ethereal features or maybe it was just you trying to deny your feelings for him.

“I’m gonna let that slide since there’s something else I need to talk to you about,” you stood up before you had to hear any more of this unnecessary conversation. Before you were able to take a step, you were brought back to the ground. Your back hit the hard dirt making you wince. Jimin sat on your waist with each knee on either side of you. “You have recently met a very good friend of mine without even noticing what he was. I’m afraid he wants to take you as his. So I was nice enough to come here and warn you about him. But it seems you don’t want my protection…”

He trailed off waiting for you to start begging for him to help you but it never came. His smile fell and his eyebrows furrowed. Why were you not groveling? Were you not afraid? That’s not it, he can smell the delicious fear coming off of you.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m leaving by the end of next week,” you lied hoping he wouldn’t catch it.

Jimin stared at you for a second before getting off of you. But not before giving you a quick peck to the lips. Your face burned as you looked up at the grinning blood-sucker of a man. It most definitely gave Jimin an ego boost to see you so affected by his action.

“See you later, Blood Bag,” he waved before disappearing around the corner. What you didn’t see is that Jimin had to stop after turning the corner. He held his hand over the left side of his chest. It hurt. His chest was in pain. Like his heart was beating once again. The cold skin of his cheeks flushed while he felt like his lungs were actually working. If this was what it felt like just to kiss you, imagine what it would feel like to...Jimin had to stop himself. No need to let his mind go too far until you’ve fallen for him. And he was confident you would.

You finally willed your legs to get up and move to hurry to your room. You stopped when you passed an opening leading to the street in front of the church. You didn’t want to give Jimin or the priest time to find you again, so you made your way back to the bookstore.

When you got there you opened the door and your eyes instantly landed on Taehyung...and his bruised cheek above a busted lip. You stopped in your tracks making Taehyung look at you.

“Done with the book already?” a smile stretched across his face making him mumble ‘ow’.

“What happened to you?”

“Just a little friendly brawl.”

“In fifteen minutes?”

“Lots can happen in fifteen minutes.”

You shook your read to get your thoughts focused, “I came here to ask you if there was a bus or a train that left the town today.”

“Hmmm, I’m pretty sure the next train outta here isn’t for another two days,” Taehyung lied without hesitation. The next train left today in thirty minutes and wouldn’t be back until next week. He didn’t want another beating from Jimin.

“Oh, well thanks. I’ll have the book back by then,” you nodded before heading back to the church. What were you supposed to do for the next two days?

Once you made it back to the church you headed straight to your room to find the priest sitting in the wooden chair. He told you to have a seat on your bed after you closed the door.

He cleared his throat, “So you obviously seem uncomfortable around me and I apologize for whatever I have done to make you feel that way.”

Your eyes were on the book in your hand before you quietly replied, “I just never remembered telling you my name so I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I should’ve been more careful,” he saw your confused expression before continuing. “I am no ordinary priest. I am a...protector of sorts. I protect people from supernatural creatures of all kinds.”

Your eyes looked into his, and his were telling you he knew about the vampire that had kept in his home. Of course, he knew, this made you breathe out a laugh, “So you know about him.”

“I do.”

“You know, I was able to walk out the front door of his house like it was nothing,” Claude’s eyebrows raised in shock. You nodded, “He was so deeply in his work while in his office, I was able to walk out of there. But now he knows I’m here and I need to find a way out of here.”

“I can help with that. The train that transports out of town leaves in twenty minutes. I can get you there along with a ticket straight back home. If that is what you wish.”

It only took you a few seconds to register his offer and you quickly nodded and followed him out the door. All while leaving the book from Taehyung on the bed.

“What’s your name?” you asked while trying to keep up with the man that has been trying to help you for the past week and a half.

“Claude.”

He looked around the corridor before muttering the Latin mantra for the hidden door to open. Claude had to come back up a few stairs to grab your wrist to lead you down the stairs. You had unknowingly frozen in place after seeing the wall slide open to a set of stairs.

“Do all churches have a basement like this?”

“Not all, we’re one of the few that do.”

“So cool,” you whispered as you skimmed all the symbols and words that were engraved into the walls.

“There’s a tunnel that leads straight to the station. We don’t want you to miss the train, the next one won’t be here for another week,” Claude explained all while hurriedly walking down the tunnel.

You didn’t want to think about how Taehyung lied to you and how you didn’t realize that he was the friend Jimin was referring to. Just then, passed the room where you could see people sitting around a large dark wood table.

“Are we not going to talk about how you guys have a literal l a i r down here?”

“Nope.”

“Alrighty.”

Claude had led you up a flight of stairs that lead to the back of a building. You couldn’t tell what kind it was until the two of you walked up the side to the front. The large sign read Train Station. There were many benches set out but only two other people were waiting to get on the train. Claude had just realized he still had a grip on your hand but luckily you didn’t seem to mind as you read all the signs telling you the train’s schedule.

Claude paid for your ticket to Seoul before having you sit down on a bench close to the entrance gate. He looked around to make sure Jimin was nowhere in sight. Then he would glance back at you to make sure you were still there. The loud whistle of the train made it to your ears before you stood up and watched as it slowed to a stop.

“I have nowhere to stay up there,” you paused in front of the bench and started at the open door showing a few metal stairs.

“You do,” he brought a piece of paper from his pants pocket and gently set it in your hand. He nodded towards the train, motioning for you to get on before it leaves.

You thank him before boarding the locomotive and taking a seat in the designated section. Your seat was on the side of the station. Looking out to see Claude waving and smiling at you through the window. No one else was around him, nobody had gotten off and the few people that were waiting were already boarded. You waved back before your blood ran cold.

Claude’s neck was snapped right before your very eyes. His now lifeless body fell to the ground, in what felt like slow motion. The one person that had been helping you from the kindness of his heart, lied on the floor, dead.

Through your teary eyes, you saw it was Taehyung. His face showed no emotion, not even as he stared into your sorrowful eyes. As you went to stand, the train began to move and when you looked back to where Taehyung was standing, he was gone.

🩸🩸🩸

You rushed off of the train and hurriedly went to find whatever stood at the address Claude had given to you. Your head constantly went from side to side, causing a headache to form. But you didn't want the pounding of your brain against your skull to be the reason you were caught.

Finally, you ended up at the place where you met Jimin. The warehouse still appeared worn down and abandoned. Nothing had changed since you last saw it, except for the door. The door used to be blocked by wooden planks but now, it was a sleek and elegant carved piece of wood. There laid a door knocker that looked to be recently polished, in the shape of a cross.

You hesitated in reaching for the knocker and just as your fingers touched the cool metal, Taehyung interrupted. You spun around to see him even more beaten than the time before. When you went to knock again the door was gone, and the old wooden beams replaced them. You froze, that was going to be where Claude promised safety. Now you met with the thing that killed him. The thing you had considered your friend for only a short period of time.

“I didn't wanna hurt you like this, ya know. I really did want to be friends with you, and maybe even one day be more than that. Because you seem like a great person and-” he stopped talking once he noticed you had slipped through the wood and into the building. He sighed before following you in.

You wondered if there was even a point in trying to hide from him. He obviously wasn't human so he could track you down in seconds. Yet, you still went to hide in the room where you saw Jimin feeding on that stranger. And after months, her body was still there. Rotting and decaying. You gagged before exiting the room quickly.

Taehyung was right there, causing you to run into him. He held you close as you tried to pull away. He rolled his eyes as you struggled, irritated you wouldn't listen to his practiced speech all while running away. It was clear Jimin had no issue throwing punches towards his friend. Even though they were the same age physically, Jimin had been alive for much longer than he had.

You attempted to pull all your weight back as Taehyung dragged you down the stairs and to the entrance. Suddenly, you went flying back onto your ass as Taehyung’s grip left your arm. Your gaze landed on Jimin wrestling with Taehyung on the concrete floor. You looked around to find another door but there wasn't one that you could see. You didn't want to wander the building and get lost, but you also didn't want to wait for the two supernatural beings to be done with their fight.

You let out a shaky breath after realizing you're going to have to sneak past and get to the entrance. Your legs trembled as you slowly made your way around the two that were yelling at each other. Threats and fists, along with knees, we're thrown back and forth. When you got to the entrance you heard a sickening thud. It wasn't someone falling on the ground or one being thrown. No, the thud had an underlying crack to it. Turning around, you saw dark crimson ooze from Taehyung’s skull.

He was face down, making the sight easier for you to stomach. If you were able to see the look on his face and the emptiness of his eyes, you wouldn't be able to sleep again.

Jimin picked you up by your biceps, making sure you were as close to him as possible. He rested his forehead against yours. He bit his and leaned in for a kiss. Jimin kissed you over and over again until every inch of your face had met the touch of his pillowy lips. lip

“So tell me, Blood Bag, are you ready to spend an eternity with me?”

#park jimin #bts x reader #bts yandere #yandere bts x reader #yandere bts #kim taehyung #vampire #vampire jimin #jimin x reader #yandere male #yandere jimin x reader #yandere vampire #vampire jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts jimin #bts park jimin

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midnxghtsunwrites · 4 years

Text

“ IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT ”

PAIRING —

andy barber x black! pregnant! reader

SUMMARY —

y/n knew something was wrong the moment she woke up with blood soaked sheets and a tightness in her chest.

WARNINGS —

this imagine will contain possibly extremely triggering content such as mentions of infertility, pregnancy irregularities, loss of pregnancy ( stillborn pregnancy ) , explicit language, sadness, and possible anxiety & depression under the cut

proceed with caution, viewer discretion is advised.

IT wasn't the cool draft of breeze flowing from the vent or the soft hum of the AC that woke you up from your sleep. It wasn't Andy shifting on his side of the bed or the loftiness of your two pillows or the fact that your bonnet slid off during the night.

What made you stir was the long forgotten sensation of something running down your inner thigh — the sinking feeling in your belly. Of course, you've felt it before when you were far from pregnant and set to start your period. Usually, however, you would have a gut feeling the night before which often prompted you to wear a pad to bed.

Tonight was different.

You stuck to just panties as pajamas since pregnancy made you hot when you're supposed to be cold and cold when you're supposed to be hot.

When you switch on the lamp on your side of the bed, Andy is spurred awake by the snap of the switch and the sudden influx of light. Since he was laying flat on his back, he just turns his head to look at you with squinted eyes, still adjusting to the brightness.

He furrows his eyebrows as he takes in the look of worry on your face. He knows you well enough to see that you're freaking out internally.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He begins to sit up, "Is it the baby?"

You don't want to look. You don't want to give yourself less faith than you already have. You can't look.

You've already endured years and years of being told that you would never have a child — and the one moment of happiness you got when you found out you were pregnant with your husband's baby is being stripped away. Just like that.

"I think I'm bleeding." Your voice shakes as you speak.

Andy was always the level-headed one in the relationship. Five years of being together and three years of marriage taught you that. You've seen him through his highest highs and lowest lows — lost cases and cases that kept him up at nights. But you have never seen him so panicked at something you said.

Even though his body language screams alarm, his voice is level and calm. "Okay, let's go to the hospital. I'll call ahead."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration, "Okay." You whisper.

THE gel is cold against your stomach, shocking you into reality. You listen for the sound of your baby's heartbeat — the one that will let you know that everything is okay.

Everyone seems to be frozen as your gynecologist shifts the wand along your smooth bump. When the room is deathly silent, the only sound to be heard is your heavy exhale, Andy shakes his head, distress on his face.

"What does this..." He can't even finish his sentence. You squeeze your eyes shut. "Why can't we hear a heartbeat?"

Dr. Moore gives her patients sympathetic glances — this is the last thing she would ever wish on any woman. "I'm sorry, Andy, Y/N. It seems... Your baby doesn't have a heartbeat."

It felt like you were struck by an entire planet. Your thought maybe you didn't hear her properly. "What?"

The doctor bows her head in shame, "I am very sorry. Your baby died in utero a couple of hours ago."

Her words seem to be blocked out as you shake you head profusely. You can't breathe, you can't see, you can't even function. You felt it.

"This cannot be happening." You mumble under your breath. This doesn't feel real. Your cheeks are stained with tears at the news.

Andy is by your side, running a hand over your hair that you barely managed to pull back before you entered the hospital. He's holding back tears, but watching you break was enough for him to allow a tear to roll down his red face.

"I'm going to give you guys some time. A nurse will be in soon to discuss your options with you. I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Barber." Dr. Moore reiterates one final time before leaving you to grieve.

When she closes the door behind her, you take no time to grab on to Andy's hand and curl into him. He rests his hand on the back of your head as you sob into his shoulder.

"I know, baby. I know. I'm right here."

ANDREW was right there when the doctors induced your labor. He was right there when you had to endure a painful delivery to your baby girl. Your beautiful baby girl. He was there when you held her for the first and last time. He was there for the next week when you'd decided to stay in the hospital, needing time to come to terms with how quickly everything happened.

With just a picture of her captivating face as a memento, you guys went home. Without your baby.

You felt frozen — stuck in your mind, thinking of what it would've been like had things gone differently. You would be walking in your house with a car seat and a sleeping or babbling baby, a wide smile on your face. Andy would've been absolutely amazed at what you two had made.

Now? You don't even know how you walked out of the hospital or into the house without breaking down and getting yourself admitted into psych.

You're fixed to the threshold of the door — you couldn't move even if you wanted to, struck by a sudden wave of melancholy. All you can think of is the talks you and Andy had about your shared excitement.

"Honey." Andy's voice draws you back to earth. He's stood behind you, going through his own tide of emotions.

He couldn't even imagine the toll this is having on you.

You close your eyes and lean forward, the palms of your hands pressing against the door jamb. "I just need a minute."

"Okay." Andy nods in understanding, resorting to rubbing your back, gingerly.

Moments pass before you finally step into the house, your breathing shallow with anticipation. Andrew is close behind you, eyeing you cautiously and lovingly. He just wants to hold you, but he knows you need some time to yourself.

That's why he simply nods when you suggest that you should go take a shower and lay down.

"I'll make you some food." He tells you.

Your footsteps seem to echo against the walls seeing as you kept your shoes on. You weren't sure you had the energy to care about tracking dirt inside.

Entering the bedroom, you're overwhelmed with a surge of anger and disappointment.

The bed hadn't been touched since the night you went to the hospital and now you can see the sheet is strewn in the center of the mattress, a pool of long-since dried blood staring at you — "Fuck," You run a hand through your matted hair.

Part of you gets to scrubbing because how else would you take the nap you told Andy about? The other part wants to scrub away the reminder of that night. The panic and pure fear in your veins — in Andy's.

On your knees, sleeves rolled up, and fatigue ramming through you like a train, you attempt to wash away the painful memory. No matter how much elbow grease you put into it, the stain doesn't budge.

Thoughts flood your mind — is this a punishment? Am I getting punished for all the harmless things I've done in my life?

You press down further, sinking the springs in the mattress. The frustration is clear in your gaze — exasperated sighs escaping you. You're so caught up in your action that you don't even realize when a loud and defeated wail renders you a sobbing mess.

You don't hear Andy run up the stairs at the sound and stand at the door, eyebrows furrowed in worry and tenderness. He watches you for a second as you hunch forward and hit your hands against the bed in anger.

"I'm so sorry," You cry to no one in particular, "I should've known something or done something — I should've taken more care of you."

Tears gather in your husband's eyes as he hears your words. He wastes no time in stepping towards you and resting a hand on your shoulder. You flinch slightly, not expecting Andy to have heard you.

You can't even look at him, so disappointed and ashamed of yourself that you can't gather the courage to look your husband in the eye.

"Y/N, come here." He gently goads you to stand, his hand warm on your shoulder. When you rise to your feet, Andy pulls you into him, not caring about the snot or tears that transfer from your face to his t-shirt. He rubs a hand down your back and another over your hair and sniffles, "Don't you dare blame yourself for what happened. It wasn't your fault."

In that moment, his words meant nothing to you. They just drowned under the grief you were experiencing. It was only during the silent night when you two were laying on the couch of the living room after dumping your mattress that you realized how much his words meant to you.

With your head resting on his chest, you crane your neck up and gaze at him, watching as he stares up at the ceiling in thought.

"Andrew?" You whisper, voice cracking after hours of weeping.

He shifts his gaze to you, giving you his full attention. "Hmm?"

You take in his blue eyes which have seemed to lose its sparkle. "I love you."

He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, layered in salty tears, "I love you too."

general taglist : @gwenspacy @dollyhoess @complacentviawattpad @rosenoirwrites @random-ficreader23

let me know if you would like to join my general taglist! feel free to like, comment, and reblog! <33

#chris evans imagine #chris evans x black reader #chris evans #andy barber #andy barber x black reader #andy barber imagine #defending jacob #andy barber x reader #andy barber x y/n #chris evans x reader

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levis-hazelnut · 3 years

Text

Summary: when you and your best friend, Hanji, were younger, you had made up stories about your dream guys - what they would look like and how you would meet. What happens when the one you had made up appears to be real?

Warning(s): suggestions of sex. please do tell me if there are anymore.

Taglist (closed): @castellandiangelo @fandom-addict19 @20coldhearts

Status: completed

part 10 > part 11 > part 12 (final)

series masterlist

(a/n: sorry this is me just being thirsty for levi, it’s completely self indulgent and barely has a plot)

I think what I’m about to tell you right now is probably one of the biggest surprises.

So, you know how both of my relationships never lasted longer than five months? Well, my relationship with Levi has been going on for eleven months now. Almost a whole year. Which means I’ve been living in heaven for the past eleven months.

This man is just amazing in every way possible (but please don’t tell him I said this because he’s going to piss me off). He can pretend that he doesn’t care about anything all he wants because I know how much of a sweetheart he actually is, and I hate him for making me fall even more in love with him.

And another reason why I hate him is because--

That god awful sound of my ringtone screamed into my ear and I knew who it was, seeing as how there was only one person who would call me at eight a.m. on a Saturday.

With a few grumbled curses, I blindly reached for my phone and answered it, “What?”

“Good morning to you, too, darlin’.”

“For god’s sake, just tell me what you want. I’m trying to sleep.”

“I’d like for you to get your ass out of bed since our exam starts in less than twenty minutes.”

... Wasn’t it the weekend?

“... Excuse me? Exam? Since when?”

“Look at your calendar, please, you idiot.”

“I may or may not have put it into my calendar because I relied on you,” I muttered, jumping out of bed and scrambling to find some clothes before quickly brushing my teeth and trying to fix my bed head.

“Also, stop by at the café before you come. I want tea.”

“Are you fucking dumb? I’m not stopping to get you tea when I’ll already be late.”

“It’s on the way. It’ll only add a couple of minutes to your journey.”

“If I’m late, I swear I’m going to--”

“It won’t be my fault if you’re late. Thank you for getting me tea. Love you. Bye.”

He cut the phone before I could even reply and I rolled my eyes, slamming the apartment door behind me as I rushed down the stairs and made my way to the café to get Levi his precious tea since I’m such a loving girlfriend.

With a shrill ring of the bell above the door, my arrival was announced as I looked to the counter to see Eren talking to Levi, with a cup of tea in his hands.

I frowned, marching towards them to slap the back of the raven’s head.

“What the hell?” he spat, flicking my forehead in retaliation.

“What happened to getting you tea, so I can be late to the exam?”

“There is no exam, darlin’.”

“What do you mean? Why did you tell me that there was an exam? Why would you make me lose precious hours of sleep?”

“Seeing as how you don’t remember, I’ll remind you. Last night you asked me to help you study. For the exams. But I didn’t think you’d get out of bed for our study session.”

“Stop knowing me so well and let me sleep. Now, you have to buy me a cof--” I cut myself off when he presented a hot cup to me and the aroma of coffee wafted around my nose, calming me down after I took a sip. “Thank you, babe.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied before turning to the male with turquoise orbs. “Thanks for the drinks.”

“No problem. I also cleared a table in the corner for you guys, so that you wouldn’t get too distracted.”

“Aw, thank you, Eren,” I grinned. “Come on, let’s get this shit over with,” I huffed, dragging the raven towards the table, where we both sat down, and he took things out of his bag before tucking it under the table.

“What do you want to focus on?” he asked, and then glancing at me when I didn’t respond because I was too busy focusing on the black t-shirt he was wearing. Perfectly fitted around his arms, tight around his torso and pecs, exposing the ripples that I love to run my fingers over. And he was wearing a couple of silver rings on his hands, and I didn’t think he’d be able to look more attractive.

“... You,” I replied to his question with a smirk, causing him to roll his eyes.

“I will walk out of this café if you don’t stop staring at me like a freaking weirdo and if you don’t pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“But I’m tired,” I whined, facepalming the table.

“That’s not my fault.”

“I will fucking kill you, Levi. You were the one that decided to call me for five hours last night. And the one who thought it’d be a wonderful idea to wake me up at eight in the morning.”

“... Fine. We don’t have to start straight away,” he told me, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, causing his biceps to bulge even more.

“Don’t sit like that.”

“Why?” he questioned, raising a single brow.

“Because I’m sure you don’t want to get fucked in a café.”

“Why are you always so horny, you freak?”

“You’re asking me that question while looking like that?” I scoffed with the roll of my eyes. “The audacity.”

“Just drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

“I will. By the way, do we have to stay in here? Can we go to the library or somewhere quieter?”

“Why? So you can fuck me?”

“No, you idiot. I just won’t be able to concentrate with all these people.”

“But you’ll get too sleepy if it’s quiet.”

“True,” I mumbled. “Okay, then. Just give me like half an hour and I should be ready to study.”

“What am I going to do for thirty minutes?”

“Maybe talk to your girlfriend, smartass,” I retorted, laying my head on the table again, squishing my cheek against it. There was no response, so the only sounds were the chatter of customers, glass clinking, and air conditioning because of the sweltering weather. I glanced at my boyfriend, wondering why he was silent, only to find that he was gazing at me. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” was his reply, which was unusual, before he took a sip of his tea.

“What are you thinking about?”

“About how we ended up here. Together. In a relationship.”

A tender smile conquered my lips as I reached my hand out for his, interlocking our fingers. “Thank you, Levi. For loving me like no one else did. And no matter how much you get on my nerves, I’m always going to appreciate you being here for me.”

“I’m not good with this shit, so yeah, same thing goes to you,” he said awkwardly, causing me to laugh.

“Can’t believe it’s going to be our one-year anniversary in about two weeks.”

“Going to be a year since I entered hell.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, kicking his shin, despite knowing he was joking.

“... You know what, let’s just go,” the raven-haired male randomly stated, standing up and gently tugging on my hand as our fingers were still intertwined. To my one-word question of: “Where?” he replied, “I don’t know, but I don’t feel like it’s day that we should study. We have plenty of time for that, so let’s do something.”

My hues shone brightly as I grinned and gladly accepted his offer, getting out of my seat and grabbing my coffee as he packed his things away prior to leading me out of the stuffy building, bidding farewell to Eren.

“Let’s go to your place. We’ll make breakfast, have it on the balcony, and do whatever after.”

“'Kay, then. But can we slip in a nap after breakfast because I’m still tired?” I requested.

“Of course.”

So, we made way to mine and Hanji’s apartment, relieved that I didn’t have to study all day today and could simply relax with the raven. That fact made me smile a little as I unlocked the door to the apartment, stepping inside and kicking my shoes off as Levi did the same, following you to your bedroom.

“Ten minutes, please. Then, we begin our date,” I sighed, plopping down onto my bed and he made himself comfortable, shifting my head onto his lap. Then, his slender digits began to soothingly drift through my tresses that were completely tangled, so he had gently unknotted my hair to make it easier to run his fingers through it.

“Remind me to never wake you up this early on a weekend again.”

“I always tell you, asshole. And you never listen to me.”

“Well, I’ve finally learnt my lesson. So, hush.”

After my ten-minute rest, I went to splash my face with water to wake me up a little, while Levi was in the kitchen, preparing everything for breakfast, seeing as how the only thing he ate for breakfast was tea and toast, and I only had coffee.

“Hey, darlin’, what do you want to eat?”

“Mmm, maybe crepes... Let me help.”

So, in the next forty minutes, I ended up with flour on my face and clothes, while that idiot was just smirking at me, and I had slipped because there was water on the floor. And all of it was amusing to my boyfriend, who seemed to be in a great mood since he kept chuckling (not that I was complaining because it was a beautiful sound). The annoying thing, though, was that I was too irritated to mock him wearing my floral apron that made him lose his debonair flair.

“You’re an idiot with her own comedy show,” he teased.

“I don’t know if that is a compliment or not.”

“It isn’t. I’m calling you an idiot.”

“Shut up. You’re the reason I’m covered in flour.”

“Just go sit down and eat. I’ll clean everything up.”

“You better, you clean-freak,” I mumbled, doing as he said, taking a seat at the table on the balcony as he placed down the plates and mugs before sitting opposite me. The sun grinned down on him, giving him an ethereal appearance and making him even more gorgeous.

There was idle chatter as we ate because I was too exhausted and agitated to carry a proper conversation that had too much information for my brain to register.

Once we were done, the raven stood up to take the dishes to the kitchen and wash them (husband material right there) as Hanji approached me with a yawn, rubbing the fatigue from her eyes.

“How come you’re awake so e-- Oh,” she said when she noticed Levi.

“Yeah, he made me get out of bed early for no reason,” I complained as I stood up to help him. “There’s leftover batter for crepes, by the way.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks. Also, why is there flour everywhere?”

“Because of that idiot.” I rolled my eyes.

“You’re the idiot, darlin’,” he called from the kitchen before appearing before us, shooting an annoying and teasing look my way, and shot him a glare in return.

From someone else’s perspective that don’t know us, we’d probably look like we hate each other, when in reality, this was basically our love language - annoying each other and glaring.

“I will punch you, Ackerman. However, I need to clean up, so you’re lucky.”

“Not like you would’ve, anyway. And before you say anything else, just go shower.”

Once again, I rolled my eyes but left the room to do as he said, grabbing some clothes and a towel before going into the bathroom. Just as I was about to close the door, however, it opened slightly and Levi stepped inside, shutting and locking the door.

“What are you doing?” I inquired.

“I said I’ll clean everything up, didn’t I? That includes you,” he whispered with a smirk, leaning in to latch his lips onto mine, tugging at the hem of my shirt.

~/~

Soft kisses were pressed along my hairline and my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, down to my jaw and further down to my shoulders. Lips continued to migrate, travelling to my neck where there were soft nibbles and flicks of a tongue against the flesh of my neck.

My fingers were tangled in ebony locks, damp and fragrant from our recent shower, and my nails gently scratched against Levi’s scalp as I drifted my hand through his hair. His touches were light and almost careful, like he didn’t want to hurt me, even though his teeth contrasted that when he sunk his teeth into my skin a couple of times before kissing the spot he bit as a wordless apology.

We were simply lying down in my bed, relaxing in a comfortable silence. I laid on my back with my eyes lidded, while Levi laid on his side, resting his head on my chest as he continued to pepper my skin in soft kisses and gentle nips.

These would always be my favourite moments. Just moments filled with adoration, silent declarations of love, and serenity. No teasing, annoying, or glaring. No retorts, no eye rolling, no grumbles. Only warmth, tenderness, affection.

“Darlin’?” he uttered in a hushed voice, but when I didn’t respond, he lifted his head to gaze at me, finding that I had fallen asleep. His ashen hues were full of fondness, admiring my relaxed visage before he pecked my lips and assumed his original position - his head on my chest and an arm slung over my torso.

While I was asleep, he was on his phone, scrolling through social media, occasionally sighing because he was bored. But he wouldn’t wake me up because I deserved to sleep.

It wasn’t until about twelve o’clock when I woke up with Levi’s head still laying on my chest, however, his grey orbs were hidden. So, with little movement, I attempted to reach for my phone, only to find that his fingers were entangled with mine, which made me smile softly because I hadn’t been holding his hand before I fell asleep.

And when I pressed my lips against his knuckles, his eyes fluttered open to meet mine, and there was a smile shimmering in his beautiful eyes.

“Finally awake, sleepyhead,” he hummed placing a single kiss on my jaw.

“Mhm. Did you miss me?” I murmured, unhinging my jaw and letting out a yawn.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, putting up an act to support his lie. “No.”

I giggled softly, kissing his forehead. “Whatever you say, babe. Anyway, what are we doing for the rest of the day?”

“I was thinking something outside because the weather’s nice.”

“Oh, I know! There’s a funfair at the park just ten minutes away. Let’s go there.”

“Sure. We’ll leave in about an hour?” he suggested, and I hummed in agreement, tugging my boyfriend closer so I could nuzzle my face into his chest before we got out of bed. “Then, we can come back later and make dinner together.”

“That sounds nice,” I said in a hushed voice, feeling sleep taking over me once again. However, Levi attempted to save me before I completely gave in.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“Shhh.”

For the umpteenth time that day, the raven rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help the smile that edged onto his lips every time.

He doesn’t know what it was. But every time I would do or say something, even if it was the most stupid and idiotic thing he’s seen, he feels something warm flutter inside. And he realises how much he’s fallen for me, which has changed him. In a good way.

And all this time I thought I was a bad influence.

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sokkascroptop · 4 years

Text

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 14

part 1 | part 13 | part 15

A/N: Just a warning, if you all hop in my asks saying Y/N x Katara Rights!! i’ll cut you :) so this chapter is kind of a filler and was so hard to write?? but it’s needed because of literally one part and you’ll know what it is when you read it. Also, Katara and Y/N separately have One Brain Cell that serves as impulse control but when they’re together they cancel out and they would rather die than think.

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. They had all decided to turn in early since Sokka wanted them up at the crack of dawn, but Y/N couldn’t stop tossing and turning, thinking about the little village on the water down below them that was suffering so much. Suffering because of her nation. Their nation. Katara was right, she felt cold and heartless doing nothing, but Y/N wasn’t sure of what she even could do for them.

Seeing the rundown fishing village was the worst part of their journey so far. Y/N had never imagined in her wildest dreams that there were Fire Nation citizens living in such poverty. At home, in Capital City, a pretty picture was painted of all the towns in their nation, even towns like this one, where steel mills were built to provide their armies with weapons; actually, especially these towns.

“Look at this place. We have to do something!” Katara said as soon as they stepped onto one of the docks.

Sokka stopped in his tracks. “Uh no, we can’t waste our time here. We have a bigger mission we need to focus on. These people are on their own.” He waved his hands, signifying the end of the discussion.

However, Katara was just getting started. Aang and Y/N shared an uncomfy look as the two Water Tribe siblings began arguing. “These people are starving, but you’d turn your back on them? How could you be so cold and heartless?”

“I’m not turning my back!” Sokka said defensively. “I’m just being realistic. We can’t go around helping every rinky-dink town we wander into. We’ll be helping them all by taking out the Fire Lord.”

“Hey, Loudmouth!” Toph smacked a hand over Sokka’s lips. “Maybe we should be a little quieter when we talk about ‘taking out the Fire Lord’.”

“Katara, be reasonable about this,” Sokka said quietly. “Y/N gets it.”

At the sound of her name, Y/N looked up from where she was dragging her sandal between the slats of wood, trying to become invisible. Katara and Sokka both looked at her expectantly. “Katara, I’m sorry but I think Sokka is right.” She frowned at her own words. “The mission needs to come first. It will help everyone in the long run.”

“Let’s just get what we need and go.” Aang tried to sound upbeat but everyone knew he was just trying to defuse any more arguments.

Sokka laid out his schedule across their campsite right over Y/N’s lap. As Toph, Aang and Katara bent mud out of the river’s water and boiled it to drink, Sokka and Y/N peered over the paper. She couldn’t read any of Sokka’s messy handwriting but she was able to get the gist of things with the copious color coding. Sokka was crouching over her shoulder mumbling to himself.

She turned to him. “Does it ever stop?” She asked.

Sokka grunted, “Huh?” he continued to look over the schedule, tracing the lines with a finger.

“That little hamster-weasel running on the wheel that powers that brain of yours. Does he ever stop?”

Sokka narrowed his eyes and stood up, completely ignoring her which made her giggle. “Because we spent the whole day here, we’re going to have to wake up every morning forty-three minutes earlier to make it to the Fire Lord in time for the invasion.”

“Forty-three minutes,” Katara deadpanned.

“Well I’m not waking up early,” Toph said, lying back on the dirt.

Y/N reached up and yanked on the hem of Sokka’s tunic until he paid her attention. “Yeah, me either, bud. I don’t get up before that sun rises.”

“Then we’re just going to have to take potty breaks with food breaks.”

There was a chorus of, “ewww” from the rest of the group but Sokka looked unperturbed. “It’s efficient!! It doesn’t matter, we have to leave first thing in the morning.” Sokka rolled up his schedule and stomped off to his sleeping bag leaving the four of them to wonder how he became the one in charge.

---

Y/N sighed and turned over for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night. She grimaced as her shoulder rolled right onto her hair, yanking it painfully from her scalp. She sat up pulling her hair around to the front. She’d never thought much about it before, always putting it in a braid to keep it out of her face while sparring. Now that she was walking around the Fire Nation with it down all the time to hide her identity, she was much more aware of it. She couldn’t remember the last time it was cut, it was as long as Katara’s and the humidity had made it wavy. It was heavy and thick and always made her hot when the sun was shining.

She ran her fingers through it a couple times, pulling at some tangles (that was another downside to it being down all the time) then slid out of her sleeping bag. She padded quietly barefooted past Toph, who was next to her and walked in the direction of the village. She climbed a little hill and sat with her knees pulled up in the grass overlooking the small water town. Thick black smoke billowed from the towers, even though it was well into the night.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Y/N jumped at the sudden voice but settled as Katara sat next to her, pressing their arms together. “Sorry.”

“I see that you couldn’t either.”

“Every time I close my eyes I see those villagers,” Katara mused.

“Me too.”

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “I thought you agreed with Sokka on leaving them to deal with everything on their own.”

“I was wrong,” Y/N admitted. “I think I wanted to ignore what was happening because I didn’t want to believe that my nation would let this happen, but it’s right in front of my eyes. They let these people down. I want to help in some way.”

“Do you have a plan?” Katara was smiling now.

Y/N smirked. She hadn’t known the girl for long, but it was like their minds had already melded. “Kind of. But I think I need the help of a really powerful waterbender.”

---

“My mom used to tell me stories about the spirits,” Y/N used her thumb to wipe a line of red paint down Katara’s chin. They were sitting on the edge of the bank near the muddy water. The tiny village was across from them, quiet for the night. “There was one that was my favorite and she was called The Painted Lady. Close your eyes–” Y/N wiped the red paint over Katara’s eyelids and made curling lines over cheekbones. “–she was a river spirit. It’s the best persona you could have for where we are. If anyone sees you they’re going to think that’s who you are.” She wiped the leftover paint on her skirt.

Katara donned the wide brimmed hat they had found and Y/N helped her position the lace netting around her face. Y/N pulled the hood of her black cloak up and she hopped in one of the canoes. She crouched down on the bench as Katara created a mist to hide the boat and began to bend the water around them and push them towards the factory.

It took most of the night to distribute the food they had stolen. The boat was only so big and two trips had to be made to get enough which made it all more risky but both of the girls knew that it would all be worth it in the end. When they reached the shore Y/N collapsed with fatigue on the sand while Katara washed the paint off with clean water.

Katara sat down heavily next to her. She sighed but she was clearly pleased with what they had done.

“Katara… I need your help with something.”

---

“Are you sure you want to cut it all off?”

Katara hovered over Y/N’s shoulder holding the blade Y/N had stolen from Sokka’s bag when she stole his cloak. Slowly, she reached out and touched a few strands of hair at Y/N’s back.

Y/N nodded. “Right here.” She pointed to her shoulder. She stared straight ahead into the water as she spoke, not trusting herself to look back at her friend. “Hair is our honor. I know it’s silly, it feels so stupid to be so attached to something so insignificant like hair, but I just couldn’t do it before. I think I still believed in the back of my mind that I could go back; that I could be accepted back. But, not anymore. And I don’t think I want to. Not until it’s some place I can be proud of again. I cannot have honor in a nation I don’t even find honorable. I need redemption for myself. I need to prove to myself that I am not like them anymore. And step one is cutting all ties,”–Y/N took a deep breath–”so get to cutting.”

---

The next morning, Y/N woke to shouting. Before she was able to even see clearly she had jumped to her feet and grabbed her sword. Only then did she realize it was Sokka yelling.

“What’s going on you guys?” Y/N rubbed her sleep bleary eyes. Katara and her had walked back with the sun on the horizon. Neither one of them could have gotten more than an hour of sleep.

“Appa’s sick! It’s awful!” Sokka wailed.

Y/N reached over and patted the sky bison on the snout. He gave a large groan as if to emphasize he wasn’t feeling well. “Aw, poor guy.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much, Sokka,” Toph said as she scratched under Appa’s chin.

“We might as well just throw out the whole schedule!” One look at the others, who were glaring in his direction, sent him stumbling forward to hug Appa’s huge neck. “And I’m concerned because my big furry friend doesn’t feel well.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Y/N rolled her eyes in Katara’s direction.

Sokka did a double take. “Your hair.”

Y/N reached up to touch the ends self-consciously. “Yeah.”

“Who’s hair?” Toph asked.

“Y/N cut her hair!” Aang exclaimed.

Toph’s glassy eyes widened. “How short!?”

“It’s at my shoulders,” Y/N replied.

“When did you cut it?” Sokka furrowed his brow.

Y/N shrugged. “Last night.”

Before Sokka could ask more questions, Katara broke in. “I think we should head into town for some medicine for Appa.”

---

Y/N walked in the back of the group next to Katara. “How did you… you know?” She cocked her head back in the direction of their camp.

Katara smiled mischievously. “I found these purple berries and fed Appa a ton of them. He just has a stomach ache.” Both of them began giggling which earned them a suspicious look from Sokka.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing!” Y/N waved a hand around her. “We’re talking about how much the village has changed.”

Indeed the village was much livelier due to the food Katara and Y/N had delivered. And like Y/N suspected, they all thought it was because of The Painted Lady. Shoe had commended her for bringing them food in the night. When they found out that there was no medicine in the town, Y/N knew what Katara had planned for the extra night they were going to have to stay.

---

Sokka had ignored Y/N the whole day. If he had done so a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have thought for a second about it. But now, they were friends, they sparred every evening but even when they weren’t sparring they still talked. She watched him plan for the invasion or he watched her and Katara make dinner.

Silence had never been so deafening.

And finally the silence was broken during dinner.

“You said that you went and cut your hair in the middle of the night.”

The spoon that was halfway between her bowl and her lips almost slipped through her fingers. “Yeah, so?” Y/N asked.

“Well, Shoe said that The Painted Lady was delivering food to the village in the middle of the night but you didn’t say anything about seeing her.”

“I didn’t see her,” Y/N said defensively. “I’m not sure why you’re interrogating me.”

“I’m not interrogating, just wondering.”

Y/N watched as Sokka went back to eating his dinner like nothing happened. She narrowed her eyes at him. There was only one reason why he would be asking such weird questions...

“I just think it’s a little weird that you cut your hair in the middle of the night.”

A shot of anger coursed through Y/N’s body. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward. “Sokka, go ahead and ask it because I know you’re dying to.”

“Are you The Painted Lady?”

“No,” Y/N dropped her bowl next to the fire. “I’m going for a walk.”

“I’m coming too!” Toph chirped.

Y/N turned back to look at the girl. “No, you’re not.”

“Too late, Not Painted Lady.” She was already pushing Y/N’s back, guiding them away from the campsite.

---

“You know I’m really not The Painted Lady,” Y/N said. She began to balance herself on a pointy rock but thought better of it when she felt it begin to shift underneath her. She sent a dirty look in Toph’s direction.

“I know, but Katara is. And there’s no way she knew about an obscure Fire Nation spirit.”

“Um...”

“You guys weren’t necessarily quiet when you came back this morning.”

“Riiight.” Y/N bit her lip. “You’re not going to tell Sokka are you?”

“What Sokka doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Y/N sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Toph.”

“You’ll owe me of course.” Toph began to balance herself on the same rock, Y/N had just been on.

Y/N laughed. “Owe you?”

“Yeah. Like, sometime, someday I’ll come to you and you owe me for keeping your secret.” Toph grinned.

“I’m going to come to regret this, I think.”

“Probably.”

---

Y/N stayed behind that night. Sokka had been too suspicious of her and besides there wasn’t much she could do while Katara healed all of the sick villagers. The next night, however, Katara shook her awake after only a few hours of sleep. She held a finger to her lips and led her away from the campsite, far enough so they could talk without being heard.

“I need your help tonight,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice. “What are you thinking of doing?”

Katara’s eyes were wide. “Sokka was right. These villagers need to be able to help themselves but they can’t while that factory is still polluting their water.”

“Oh, you’re gonna–”

“Yeah, we’re going to blow it up.”

“I’ll get my sword.”

---

Y/N sure wasn’t expecting Aang to be so open to the idea of ecoterrorism considering his usual passive nature, but he was a big help with destroying the factory. They were lucky that he had woken up and caught them when they were leaving.

The sun was shining when the three of them got back and it was already starting to warm up. Y/N had her black cloak thrown over her shoulder and she was laughing at something Aang had said.

“–and when you unscrewed those screws with your sword and water came bursting out and flooded the whole floor.” Aang made an explosion noise and started giggling all over again.

Katara shushed them both. “Quiet, we don’t want to wake Sokka up–oh hey… Sokka.”

Y/N tucked her cloak behind her back but the damage was already done. “We were just out on a morning swi–”

“Walk,” Katara corrected. Y/N bit her tongue. How had she almost said swim? Swim?! The river was literally polluted with probably dangerous levels of chemicals and she had almost said they went swimming in it.

“I know you’re The Painted Lady, Y/N! I know you’ve been sneaking out at night and helping the villagers but I didn’t think that you would recruit my sister to help you!”

Y/N was taken aback at the anger that was radiating off of him. It was so different than just a few days earlier when they were sitting in Appa’s saddle joking with one another. As a matter of fact, Y/N wasn’t sure he’d ever shown this much outward fury to her when he hated her.

“Sokka, leave her alone!” Katara stepped in.

Y/N grabbed her arm and pulled her back. It was better for him to be mad at her than his sister. “No, it’s fine. He’s right. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Sokka was fuming. “You put this whole mission at risk while you were off being reckless. We’re leaving right now.”

Normally she might have said something to defend herself but instead Y/N just bumped their shoulders together as she walked past him. She packed her bags silently and rolled her sleeping bag before tossing it all into Appa’s saddle.

Her feelings were hurt that Sokka would think that she would intentionally put them in harm’s way or mess up their mission. But something about his anger seemed misplaced; like there was more to it all. She could have expected that reaction if she had gotten caught, but she hadn’t been. As Y/N tried to rack her brain to figure out what made him tick she heard a buzzing out on the river. Even from where she was standing she could see the Fire Nation soldiers from the factory riding jet skis towards the village.

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Y/N ran to the cliff overlooking the village and fell to her belly. Katara dropped down next to her and Sokka and Aang on her other side.

Toph came up last. “What’s going on?”

Y/N watched in horror as the Fire Nation soldiers rode up alongside the dock and jumped off their jet skis. They began to approach the large group of villagers who had come outside to see what the noise was about.

“What did you do?!” Sokka accused Y/N. She shook her head, unable to speak.

“We destroyed their factory,” Katara muttered.

“You what?!” Sokka yelled.

“It was your idea!” Katara yelled back at him.

“It doesn’t matter whose idea!” Y/N shot to her feet. “I’ve got to help them.”

“You can’t!” Sokka grabbed her wrist to keep her from running away. He was holding on a little too tightly and Y/N desperately wanted to yank out of his grip. She looked at his wild eyes and it finally clicked what the other emotion was. He was scared. Afraid that they were going to get hurt. Afraid that she was going to get hurt. “Those soldiers are out for blood. They want revenge.”

“Well, she’s not going alone!” Katara ripped Sokka’s hand off of Y/N. “We can’t turn our back on people who need us.”

---

Katara and Y/N ran side by side down the trail that led to the water. “I’ll go buy some time. You go put on The Painted Lady costume. If the soldiers think that this village is protected by her they’re less likely to come back.”

“Got it,” Katara ran off in the direction she had stashed her cloak and hat.

“I’m coming with you,” Sokka panted as he ran down the hill followed by Toph and Aang.

“I thought you wanted to leave them,” she retorted. Y/N was done being nice if he wasn’t going to be.

“I’m not going to leave you.” Sokka held her gaze. “Or Katara,” he added quickly.

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Okay, come on.” She pushed one of the canoes into the water. “Aang, can you push us over to that dock there?” She pointed to a deserted dock on the back side of the village. The soldiers wouldn’t see them there. “And then go help Katara.”

“You got it!” He said brightly.

“What do I do?” Toph asked, clearly feeling a bit left out.

“Go make scary spirit noises for Katara,” Sokka instructed.

“Ugh, okay.” Toph ran off among the rocks and cliffs.

---

Aang used water bending to push their canoe. They each grabbed the wooden dock and hauled themselves up it, their boat floating under the dock and off with the current. No going back now. Sokka and Y/N snuck up to the back of the group of villagers and caught the tail end of whatever the soldier had been telling them.

“–destroyed our factory! We’re going to cure the world of this wretched village.”

Y/N pushed her way to the front of the group. “No you’re not.” She held her hands in loose fists by her side. She was itching for her sword but she had left it at camp in her rush to get here.

“And who’s going to stop me?” the large soldier taunted.

Y/N didn’t spare a second thought. She leapt forward and punched him in the chest twice. The armor made her knuckles ache and sent reverberations up her arms. She ducked under a flaming punch from him and kicked his kneecap. He grunted and fell to his knee. He reached forward and before she could jump away, grabbed one of her ankles, pulling her feet out from under her. She shrieked and twisted midair, landing on her shoulder.

That’s when a boomerang came from behind her, looping around to hit the soldier in the back of head, only to be caught again by it’s master. It only gave Sokka enough time to pull Y/N to her feet, because the soldier barely flinched. Agni, his head must be thick, Y/N thought.

The soldier pulled back his fist ready to throw fire at them when it was quickly stifled by a stiff breeze that whipped Y/N’s hair around her face.

He tried again, only for his fire to be blown out again. He growled and went to try a third time. He was interrupted by another soldier. “Uh, boss? What’s that?” He pointed in the direction that the wind came from. A large wall of fog was moving their way. In the distance, there was a rhythmic thumping that could only be a large boulder being lifted and dropped over and over again on the ground; and Y/N was sure she could hear Appa growling as well.

The fog parted and Y/N could see Katara standing between two rolling, white clouds. Then, she was moving towards the dock at frightening speed, gliding over the water like she was flying. She landed gracefully and stood there staring at two soldiers in front of her.

“Come on, let’s move the people further back.” Y/N patted Sokka’s shoulder and the two of them guided the villagers further back onto the platform to keep them out of harm’s way.

Behind her, Y/N heard a yelp and two of the soldiers ran back to their jet skis and drove off without another thought. Only after they left did their swords hit the deck with a clang, evidently bent out of their hands by Aang and thrown to the sky.

“Stand your ground!” Their leader shouted. Katara bent the water around two more of their jet skis and lifted them high in the air. Y/N watched in complete awe as she threw them sideways into the face of the cliff where they exploded on impact. The rest of the soldiers sprinted back to their jet skis leaving their leader alone.

“I’ll take care of this myself,” he growled. It was like it all happened in slow motion. He created a whip of fire and bent it at Katara. Y/N was sure it was going to hit her, she didn’t even move to block it. Y/N gripped Sokka’s arm and then Katara was gone.

From below the deck, Aang had bent the air around Katara and lifted her high above them. Another gust of wind knocked the soldier into the muddy water. Katara floated on mist above him.

“Leave this place and never come back,” The Painted Lady commanded.

Y/N had never seen someone swim so fast. That was when she realized she was still holding her breath. She sighed in relief as Katara landed back on the platform. Aang crawled out from under the dock and Sokka and Y/N ran to join them.

Behind her, the villagers were cheering but the sound was muted because Y/N didn’t care about that, all she cared about was that her and her friends had made it in one piece.

A loud bang sounded from the shore and everyone went silent, their eyes searching for where the noise came from.

“HELLLOOOO!” Someone shouted angrily from the bank.

Sokka and Y/N shared a confused look before she burst out laughing. “Oh my spirits, it’s Toph. She can’t get over here.” Y/N grabbed Sokka’s hand and pulled him to one of the canoes to paddle over and pick up their friend.

---

A/N: So i just wanted to say that I’ve had the hair cutting scene planned from the beginning, I just was waiting for the right time to place it. her hair is cut now. and the fire nation is dropped. and now all i have to say is: IT’S IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. IT. IS. IN. THE. NEXT. CHAPTER

taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @naanlianid @creation-magician @lunariasilver @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng @rockinearthbending-marauders @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @milk-n-cheese @solarsuki @sendnuwudes @humbleseame @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb @celia-not-cecilia @treestarrrrrrrr @p--e--a--c--h--e--s @velveteencurls @izzieserra @oddment-nitwit-blubber-tweak @salsasadd @nataliahaslosthershit @awkwardnesshabitat @lanie103 @emogril @im-the-galactic-starfish @charlotteisabella @alienmotel

#atla #sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #sokka #katara #zuko #aang #toph beifong #azula #mai #ty lee #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar resurgence #avatar fic #atla fics #avatar renaissance

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anotherobeyme-blog · 3 years

Text

This isn’t proofread, I literally pushed this out in under two hours. I might come back later to proofread. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll leave y’all to my incorrect grammatical glory and sinful spelling mistakes.

This is made with my OC’s name in place of MC. I’ll try to make one that has MC in place of the name “Red”.

I do want to put a TW, for obviously NSFW, but also what could be taken as dub-con. This contains swearing as well. Please let me know if any other TWs I should put. I’ll try to put all the tws in the tags as well.

Obey me, night before Red leaves

He makes a pact. With Lucifer. But before he finishes up his business, he has one last thing to do. He takes a few steps across Lucifer’s study, and steps on his toes to kiss lucifer.

“...Red.” Lucifer says in a clear tone. “I’ve always known you’ve wanted to do this. And I know what you’d like to do next.”

Red smiled at this as Lucifer pulled him tighter and closer. “We’re heading straight to my room. You’re going to spend your last night in the Devildom there, together with me, all night long, until the break of dawn.” He pulled Red’s face towards his, “I’m not letting anyone else have you now...” Lucifer smiled a sharp grin, “You’re mine.”

Red swallowed and nodded eagerly at Lucifer’s proclamation and tried pressing himself even closer to the demon, as though he wasn’t as close as he could be to the other. Red’s actions made him smile, and seemingly effortlessly picked him up.

“I know you want this.”

“I-I do. I want this- please, please!” He begged while rutting himself against Lucifer’s leg, his thin arms held tightly by just one hand and his neck held by Lucifer’s other, pulling Red’s ear to his mouth to speak into.

“Look how quickly I’ve got you writhing in my lap,” Lucifer spoke, scraping his teeth on the cartilage of Red’s ear.

With Red still whining and begging, Lucifer wandered his hand to his nightstand and pulled. His hand palmed around to find a plastic bottle, just the bottle he was looking for. He flipped the nozzle open with his thumb

“Open your hand.” He told Red. He eagerly obliged, mindlessly putting an open palm out with his eyes still shut and hips moving. A cold liquid seeped into his hand, filling up the thin crevices between his fingers, and he almost dropped the contents. “Uh uh,” Lucifer reprimanded, “keep your hand like that.” Red nodded and waited for Lucifer’s next actions. What he definitely didn’t expect was for Lucifer to literally rip his trousers at the seams just to get them off.

“Wha-What the hell? How am I supposed to go back to my room without pants?!” Red yelled.

“Looks like you’ll just have to figure that out for yourself, huh?” Red just responded with a grunt while Lucifer worked off the rest of his torn pants. Red was left down to just his underwear while Lucifer was still fully dressed.

“Hey so when are you going to get undressed?” Red asked, only mildly teasing. Lucifer didn’t respond, just opting to go ahead and rip what little clothing he had left on his bottoms off. “Hey! My underwear too!”

Lucifer smirked, “that’s what happens when you’re a brat.” He stated flat out. He dipped his fingers into the somewhat warmed liquid in Red’s palm. He swirled his fingers around the rim of Red’s hole, working it open.

Red but his lip, moving his hips just enough to get just a little more from Lucifer. But Lucifer put a stop to this, grabbing Red’s hip and pulling down. The motion plunged his fingers into Red suddenly, making him gasp. Lucifer furthered his actions but digging his neat nails into Red’s soft skin.

His fingers massaged the soft tissue inside Red, going deeper and deeper with each movement. Lucifer worked him apart while Red tried, and failed, to move around on his fingers. But when the pleasure finally started to just build up, Lucifer withdrew his fingers, eliciting a small whine from Red. He was flipped onto the bed, his face pushed into the comforter.

“Mmph!”

The same liquid dropped on his ass, dripping over his hole in its flow. He could hear Lucifer’s dress pants unzipping, and he tried to flaunt what little ass he had just a bit while he waited. Moments later Lucifer’s cock lined up to him. Before he could move, Red pulled his hand around back and felt around, feeling for his cock. He felt it, and stroked it, and guided it in.

“So you have lube in your nightstand but not condoms?” He complained.

“Is that a problem?”

“N-no...”

Lucifer spared no time, plunging in. It felt like bliss, both from anticipation and action. Red held back a moan in his throat. He sat up on his elbows all the while the bed rocked back and forth, hitting the old, hollow walls.

“A-ah” it was harder to hold back his moans that where delving into words. “Fu-... o-oh!” His knees quivered and his belly fluttered. The rocking across the quilted comforter stimulated his cock, the tip no doubt leaking a small stain on the immaculate fabric. “Sh-shit... I think..” words left his mind as Lucifer fucked him silly, “I... I’m-“ he words merged into moans and whines.

“Can’t speak?” Lucifer taunted, pulling Red up and grabbing his neck all the while he kept at a brutal pace. The lewd squelching mixed with Red’s uncontainable moans filled the room as he neared his climax. Lucifer’s grip on Red’s hip tightened, painfully digging his nails into his pale flesh. A yelp elicited from Red’s throat while Lucifer’s nails dug even further into the bony hip.

“C-cum... I-“ he moaned while writhing in Lucifer’s harsh grasp. He felt his cock sputter and spasm, the nerves all the way down to the palms of his feet fluttering in a frenzy. Just climaxing, spurts of cum spewing, Lucifer withdrew his cock leaving Red suddenly empty and riding through his short ruined orgasm.

“No! N-no, please!” He begged, almost weeping. He flopped onto the bed as Lucifer let go, planting face first into the blanket. He barely held himself up on shaking elbows while taking in puffs of air. “Why? W-why did you-“

Red was cut off from his whining, flopped onto his back and the motion moving his painfully sensitive cock around. His knees bent and hugged each other, bringing them to his belly.

Lucifer hastily spread his legs apart, “didn’t you want to come?” He mocked

“Yes but-“

“But? Do you not?” He asked with a sadistic going on his eyes. He pulled red closer, “should I stop?” He asked in a low tone, almost a pur.

“No! No please don’t! Please let me-“ Red frantically begged, just one ruined orgasm pulling him apart at the seams.

“Good,” Lucifer lined himself back up and once again, entering Red with no warning or mercy. He somehow delved even further, hitting even deeper than before. Red lost all control, no holding back, his whines falling from his lips with no restraint.

“Please let me cum! Please!” He begged.

Lucifer made no acknowledgment besides keeping up on his pace on Red’s sobbing hole. He clamped even tighter around Lucifer’s cock and Red’s hand wandered over to his sensitive and swollen cock. He slapped the traveling hand away, holding it tight above Red’s hand.

Red’s face contorted even further in pleasure. His cock twitched in the coming event, Red falling apart once again. But Lucifer clamped a hand tight around Red’s base, leaving him even more swollen and begging.

“N-no, let me-“ the hand that was clamped to Red’s wrist let go and Lucifer plunged his fingers into Red’s mouth. Saliva coated his tongue and it dripped around Lucifer’s finger creating a slick mess. Red moaned and swirled his tongue around the fingers in his mouth.

He pounded with even more urgency, leaving Red’s hole absolutely sore with delicious pain. He filled it up with his sticky seed and his hips sputtered, chasing the remnants of his orgasm. And then he was done. He pulled out, leaving Red empty and wanting, his orgasm denied once again. He whimpered inaudible pleas and writhed around on the bed, unknowingly showing off his slick red ass.

Lucifer picked the mess up and threw him over his shoulder. The stimulation of Red’s cock moving against the fabric of Lucifer’s shirt left him leaking small drops of fluid and whining even more.

The tire of denial blurred time together, only the warm spray of water against his body waking him up. Red blinked away his fatigue but was suddenly pushed to his knees.

“Ah! Warm me next ti-“ Lucifer’s freshly cleaned cock stuffed his mouth, leaving him gagging from the intrusion to his throat. He pulled out and Red got a chance to breathe. He looked up at Lucifer through water and tear slicked lashes. The small break was interrupted just as before, Lucifer’s cock fucking his mouth unrelentingly. Tears and shower water streamed down his cheeks as he gagged multiple times over the cock in his throat. He pulled his face away and coughed, drearily pulling his attention back to the stiff erection in front of him. Through heavy lids and looked back up at Lucifer as he made small licks and swirled over the tip. His spit and cum ridden tongue massaged its way around the sensitive flesh.

“You suck dick so well,” Lucifer praised, making red smile. “Such a pretty little slut,” he smiled before suddenly fucking Red’s mouth. He kept at this, only giving minuscule stops for Red to breathe through the assault. His cock rammed its way down his throat multiple times while he gagged and swallowed around the intrusion. Lucifer quickly came, spilling his cum down Red’s throat while still keeping up the relentless fucking. He finished his orgasm and slipped out of Red’s throat, allowing him to breathe and pant fervently.

He was pulled back and and twirled around, Lucifer’s still firm cock poking and slipping between his ass. Lucifer guided himself to Red’s slicked up hole and started rocking himself in and out. He stroked Red’s overstimulated tip, the touch both a mercy and torture. He pumped the smaller one’s cock in sync with each pound into the abused little hole. Red babbled moans with his face pressed against the wall of the shower while finally being properly fucked. He was getting closer to a painful edge and his teased cock had no choice but to twitch just as the times before. He quickly came, his belly flipping and dancing in ecstatic motions and the nerves in his lower half pulsing in a rapid rhythm. He painted the wall with his cum as it shot out, some even hitting his belly. Lucifer fucked him through the orgasm with no stopping, leaving Red a writhing, begging, overstimulated mess. He babbled and whined as his ass was fucked without mercy and his cock was pumped steadily. Lucifer kept up the brutal pace and ducked the younger through not one, not two, not three, but four increasingly painful orgasms. He painted Red’s walls with his own cum leaving his stretched and used hole to leak fluids. Red’s legs were useless, caving in under his weight. Lucifer wasn’t lying.

“You’re mine.”

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me smut #obey me lucifer #obey me oc #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon #tw smut

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cathrrrine · 3 years

Text

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 11 - FAST

tw // violence, swearing

----

I have never, ever told anyone my secrets. I've barely even told them my real name. But everything Fury had said felt like a stab to the chest. I didn't like the fact that he had that power over me. To hear someone say the things I've only thought about in the dark out loud was making me feel exposed. I wanted that to end, and quick.

He was right. That was what angered me the most. Every syllable, every word he had uttered was dangerously close to the truth. No one knew I had nightmares. And no one knew I lived most of my life in the darkness of the Red Room. These were things that I kept to myself. But somehow, Nick Fury got his dirty hands on my secrets, and I wanted the one who put their nose in my business to pay.

"What makes you think someone told me these things?" He inquired. I wasn't interested in his game anymore. I just wanted him to get straight to the point.

"The fact that you question the possibility is a sign." I dug my fingers into my own skin, fighting the anger away. I couldn't let it get out of my control, not now. No matter how much I wanted to strangle him to death, I couldn't risk getting killed. At least not until I find out who spilled my secrets. "Answer me, Fury. How did you get the information?"

He took a deep breath, pausing before he said, "Through a reliable source."

"A source that happened to know everything about me? You're a horrible liar." I scowled. "I made sure those sources were dead. Hell, anyone who knows even my favourite colour is six feet under." Or you know, burnt to ashes. A very creative way of disposing and cremating, I'd say.

"I beg to differ."

"Oh? So, I wasn't the one who killed them? I wasn't the one who murdered them with my own two hands? Who watched them take their very last breath with my own two eyes?" I watched him squirm in his seat, it was subtle but I caught it. "I guess they burned their own bodies."

He laughed, raising his eyebrows in mock humour. "That's cute."

"Adorable, I know." I grinned, but I knew the usual playful sass it carried was lacking. I was dripping venom. "Someone new told you these things. And if you want my full loyalty..." I turned my head to the mirror, which was obviously built for people to look in. If I guessed right, a group of Avengers were standing right behind it.

"Then you'll let me slit their throat."

The man let out a loud laugh, baring his teeth as he did so. "We have files of you, too, you know. Don't need to get so dramatic, L/N. You're not as secretive as you think."

"God. You can stop trying to lie now, Nicholas. There is no file. Even if there was, it would be useless. I wiped all my records clean and I made sure of that." I leaned forward. "Now, tell me the name."

On the other side of the mirror, a certain Avenger was trying her hardest not to run away.

"She's going to kill me." Wanda let out a sharp breath, her heart racing fast. She didn't think herself as someone who scared easily, but the look in Y/N's eyes shook her to her core. "She's already overpowered me once. I'm too weak against her. My powers-"

"-are strong enough to defend yourself against L/N. You have nothing to worry about, Wanda." Pietro cut in, trying to comfort his sister. He kneeled in front of her as she sat, looking into her eyes.

"I meddled in her mind. I invaded her privacy." She stood up from her seat, her chair screeching against the floor as she pushed it forcefully. She was trying her hardest to not explode into a flurry of emotions. God, if stress was visible in colours, she'd look like a damn festival.

"We needed you to." This time it was Steve who spoke up. "What you did was necessary, and if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have even gotten close to her accepting the offer."

"Besides, she's just playing mind games." Natasha chipped in. "She's trying to get Fury to break."

"Well, it might not look like it's working on him but I'm definitely affected." The young woman's eyes glowed red once more, the familiar scarlet waves swimming through and around her fingers. She tried to focus on the warmth, trying to find comfort in the familiar surge of her powers.

"Calm down." Pietro put his hands on her shoulders, urging her to stay seated. "She can't do anything to you. We won't let her." And he swore on that.

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'm sure Fury's got it all under control." Tony moved from the mirror to join his friends in comforting the young witch. "Plus, Pietro's right. We won't let her mess with you."

Wanda chuckled, amused at her family's antics of trying to cool her down."Are you just trying to calm me down so I don't accidentally blow this building up, or do you guys actually care about me?"

"A little bit of both." Tony shrugged. A small laugh escaped her.

"Guys." Natasha's voice brought them back to the problem at hand. Everyone moved to the mirror.

"You can shove that up your motherfucking ass, L/N."

The conversation had gotten heated. The room went still as everyone anticipated Y/N's next words. But then they couldn't hear her anymore.

"He muted us." Tony huffed.

Nick had disabled the speakers, and all they could see was him screaming at her, pointing in the direction of the two-way mirror.

Nobody moved.

Y/N was laughing, her body shaking as she cackled. They could see her mouthing a few more words before Nick slammed his palms onto the table and walked out, leaving her with a smug smile on her face.

Everyone's blood went cold.

"Wanda." The door suddenly opened, revealing a stone-faced Nick Fury. "I'm afraid it's gotten out of my control."

———

After approximately two hours, two men dressed in the familiar S.H.I.E.L.D attire came into the room I was in, and then led me outside to a well-lit hallway. The walls were stark-white, strips of light lining up at the sides of the ceiling.

"Where are you taking me?" I turned to the taller one of them two, trying to get him to look me in the eyes. But he kept his head straight, dragging me along as he walked.

"The Director ordered us to take you to him." He didn't react. He was like a robot...not even an ounce of emotion behind his eyes. I bet he'd be very good at playing poker. Maybe I should ask.

"Can't he just get me himself?" I whined like an ass, wanting to get at least some reaction out of him. But he stayed silent, barely affected. I huffed, turning to the other one instead. He was bald and he looked very angry.

"Is he always like this?" I pretended to laugh. Bald Man gave me nothing but a fierce sideways glance. This was boring. They were boring me. "Fine. Don't talk. Can't believe S.H.I.E.L.D hires people with dry humour."

"Hey...out of curiosity, do you play poker by any chance?" I genuinely wanted to know. Tall Man threw me a dirty look before turning his head away again. Still no damn reply, though.

"Jeez. It's just a question." I stopped talking immediately. I wasn't going to waste my breath on these two assholes.

Just as I was about to bask in the silence, a loud crash echoed through the hallway, the sound of gunfire and shouts bouncing off the white walls.

"GET DOWN!"

I heard the familiar whizz of a bullet coming towards us, and immediately dived to the floor, stomach flat on the ground. It hurt like a bitch, but I'd take a couple of bruises over a bullet any day.

The two men beside me immediately reached for their handguns, aiming it at whoever shot at us. I couldn't see, too busy trying to dodge bullets to focus on the attacker. It was a cursed situation. I was in handcuffs, and I had no weapon whatsoever.

Yet here I was, getting shot at in the hallway of S.H.I.E.L.D's headquarters. What have I gotten myself into?

"Search for her!" I heard a male voice shouting in the middle of all the commotion. Could it be? This wasn't just anyone. The minute I heard his voice, my blood went cold and I froze in my tracks.

He was here. And he was coming to get me.

"We have to get her out of here!" Tall Man yelled to his friend.

I heard the familiar crackle of a radio from where Bald Man was, "Code Red! Code Red! We've got a breach in the security system-"

A gunshot cut him off.

"Damn it–Tall Guy! I think this is the part where you take my handcuffs off!" I prayed he would comply. Please just get me out of here, please.

He didn't respond, so I rolled over to my back and heaved myself up, hands still bound. I couldn't be here. He was here. How did they find out where I was?

It took me years to get off their radar. I was invisible for so long, it seemed like I was so close to being forgotten. But they never forget.

Hydra never forgets.

I ran blindly through the hallway. Somewhere in the commotion, they threw smoke-bombs at us. Even if I wanted to run, I'd risk running into them.

Thousands of possibilities swam through my mind. Was this really the end for me? For my freedom?

My panic levels surged as I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders. I yelled, but I ducked out of their weak grip quickly, landing on the ground with a hard thud as my imbalance overpowered me. It was an unfamiliar face wearing an all-too-familiar emblem on her chest.

"You." She grinned.

"Yeah, no shit, it's me." I tried to scurry away from her, dragging my body pathetically on the ground as she creeped closer to me. The minite she was close enough, I swung my right foot across her feet. She fell on her ass immediately.

Old-school trick. Hydra's hiring idiots, now?

I scoffed before moving into action, swiping her gun away from her holster and shooting at her stomach. She clutched her wound, howling in pain as blood flowed out. I couldn't afford to think twice about it.

I ran again, this time in the opposite direction of where she had come from. Then I bumped into a brick-hard chest.

Panicked, I aimed my gun at the intruder. Only to find a silver-haired man at the end of the barrel of my gun. He held his arms up. "Don't shoot."

"I could pull the trigger right now." I was breathless–not only from fatigue, but from anxiety. "I would, you know."

He didn't say anything, but he did move. It was a hell of a blur, and just as I blinked, he held my gun in his hand while I stood empty-handed.

"Now you can't." He raised an eyebrow.

"Find her! Now!" It was his voice again.

Pietro's eyes flicked from my face to the area behind me. I turned away from him again, scanning the place for an escape. There was none.

My hands were cuffed. I had no weapon. I had no advantage. I was at a dead end.

There was only one way out of this. Unless I was willing to walk head-first into hell again. And God knew I would take this road just to avoid the other consequence.

"Alright. I give up."

"What?"

"I pledge my fucking loyalty to you. Or whatever it is that you want. I swear." I looked into his eyes, desperate for him to oblige, to listen. "Now get me out of here. Fast."

#run pietro x reader #avengers reader insert #pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #pietro x you #pietro maximoff fic #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel reader insert #mcu #steve rogers #natasha romanoff

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super-secret-sick-fics · 4 years

Note

hii you said that requests were open so i was wondering if you’d want to write an iwaoi sick fic? like it’s a middle of a practice match agaisnt some school and oikawa feels sick but doesn’t tell anyone beforehand?

Hello and thank you for the request!! I hope this is kinda what you wanted. I tried :) sorry it took me a minute!

An Off Day: an IwaOi Sick fic

Pairing: Sick Oikawa, Caretaker Iwaizumi

Words: ? (I didn’t get a count sorry—longer though)

Warnings: fever, passing out, cursing

————————

It was a dull day.

Oikawa sat in class, his head resting on his palm, and everything just felt faded. Existing as a human today seemed like entirely too much work.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but his entire day, his surroundings, his overall demeanor— none of them were as vivid and bright as usual. Things were just...off.

He felt off.

A lethargic and overall blah feeling clung to him like a thick winter coat, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe and leaving his head muddled. He didn’t know what was going on with his body and it was incredibly frustrating.

Oikawa scoffed to himself, ignoring the curious side eye from the girl next to him, and resolutely decided to ignore the dull, blah feeling. Surely if he willed himself to feel less blah, then that would put the pep back in his step. Besides, this was his last class of the day and then it was time for practice.

They were playing some no-name, no-skill team in what Oikawa deemed a “charity” practice match. For the other team, it would be a learning experience. For Seijoh, it would be another victory to add to their running total.

Class finally ended and he stood up to head to the club room. Immediately, his knees buckled and black spots danced in his vision. A small hand grasped his upper arm and held him steady. Once the spots cleared, he saw the small girl who sits next to him looking up at him, concern etched into her face.

“Oikawa-san? You look pale. You should go home and rest. I’m sure they’ll be okay without you at practice today.” He shook his head.

“I just got up too fast. Thank you for helping me out,” he smiled and she hesitantly let his arm go. She nodded, grabbed her bag, and left the classroom.

Oikawa, much to his dismay, was still dizzy though. He placed his hands on his desk and ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut while he waited for it to pass.

In the club room, he met up with Iwaizumi and chatted with his other teammates here and there, resolutely ignoring the fatigue thay plagued him.

Warm-ups came and went and their coach went over the rotation for the practice match. All the while, the lethargy he felt never went away like he thought it would. In fact, it seemed to be increasing and there was now a dull, consistent thudding in his head. Maybe it was more than just an off day? Maybe something was wrong?

He didn’t get much time to explore the new thoughts, because the other team arrived and their practice match began. Oikawa was right; the other team wasn’t a challenge in the slightest. The fact that it was any easy game didn’t make him feel any better about his complete lack of game.

Nearly every single one of his sets was wrong. Too high or too low. Too far left or right. The ball wasn’t settling in his fingers the way he needed it too and it all irritated him to no end.

He couldn’t concentrate. Every now and then, the court tilted dangerously sideways and he had to consciously ground his feet to bring it back to equilibrium. He was starting to feel weak. His limbs weighed about 1,000 lbs, making every lift of his arms to set the ball or movement of his legs to cross the court a Herculean effort. All he wanted was to curl up on the ground and take a nap.

“Hey, you okay?” Matsu walked up to him during a break between serves and put a hand on his shoulder. He was frowning. Oikawa glowered at him.

Was he okay? No. Of course not. He was 98% sure that he had a fever. Would that stop him from playing? No. Of course not. This was an easy team to beat. If he couldn’t push through this, then he wasn’t worth anything to his team.

“Yeah. Fine.” He snapped. Matsuhana put his hands up and backed away. Play resumed.

It was just a cold. He could shake this feeling if he just pushed through it hard enough. If Oikawa was confident of anything, it was his ability to ignore negative feelings and punch through bad moods.

That confidence slowly drained out of Oikawa along with any energy and focus he may have had the longer the game continued.

The two teams switched sides of the court and Iwaizumi appeared at his side.

“Hey, what’s the deal? You okay? We should have taken this set a long time ago,” he grumbled, his usual grumpy tone setting all of Oikawa’s already frazzled nerves even more on edge. His lip curled as he glanced over at his best friend.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan, I didn’t realize,” he sneered. Iwa’s eyes widened and he blinked comically. Oikawa would have made a joke if he wasn’t feeling so shitty.

“Don’t take it out on me, Trashykawa,” Iwa’s eyes narrowed, “your sets have been off all match.”

Oikawa felt like he was slapped in the face because he knew that. Of course he was more than aware that not a single one of his sets hit their mark yet. It was eating away at him and it made his stomach churn. He could do this though. He would not let his team down.

“I know,” he muttered. Iwa’s face changed again, but Oikawa’s vision blurred and he couldn’t make out what expression the ace had. He walked away.

“Oi, come back here a seco—“ Iwa started but was cut off by their coach.

“Iwaizumi! You gonna stand around and talk all day or are you gonna let us resume the match?”

He glanced one more time at Oikawa before getting into position. Oikawa thought maybe he looked concerned or upset or something, but he honestly didn’t have the energy to figure it out. It was all he could do to stand up right.

The set continued and each passing second was an eternity to Oikawa. Black spots popped up more frequently and he had to squeeze his eyes shut quickly and exhale to keep himself from passing out. It was a losing battle.

The dull thud in his head grew into a steady pounding that took up residence behind his eyes, leaving him vaguely nauseated. It was getting harder to breathe, even though he wasn’t running around like he normally would be. The gym swirled and he blinked several times, but it wasn’t going back to normal. The sounds of shouting and squeaking shoes faded away, replaced by a strange roaring sound.

Oikawa realized very quickly that he was in serious trouble.

“Oikawa!” Wataru’s shout cut through the roaring and sent a sharp pain through his head. As quickly as it left, the roaring in his ears returned and with it, his vision completely blacked out. It took all his effort to call out for help.

“Iwa-cha—“ the sound got caught in his throat and his body crumpled to the floor.

The next thing he knew, Oikawa was staring at the ceiling. He blinked a few times and groaned. The lights beaming down on him reminded him of the migraine he definitely had and he shivered. Why was he on the ground?

“Tooru? Oh thank god,” Iwa’s face entered his field of vision (and blocked the light, thankfully). His voice was shaking and desperate, adding to Oikawa’s confusion.

“Iwa-chan?” He said feebly.

“Are you okay? What hurts? Fuck, Tooru. You scared the shit out of me,” Iwaizumi was frantic, his hands cupping Oikawa’s face, making the sick boy cringe. Touching was no good. He didn’t want that right now.

The corners of Iwaizumi’s mouth pulled down and his eyebrows scrunched. He moved one of his hand’s to Oikawa’s forehead and the other to his own. His eyes blew wide.

“Holy shit, Tooru! Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick, dumbass?”

Oh. He’d been caught.

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know?” He smiled weakly up at his best friend, who scoffed in return.

“Idiot,” he mumbled before turning his head towards somewhere above Oikawa. The lights pierced Oikawa’s vision and he moaned when his head pulsated. He tried to curl up, but Iwaizumi was already trying to get him standing.

“Coach, he’s got a fever,” Iwaizumi shouted across the gym and Oikawa’s knees buckled. Luckily, Iwa’s arms were securely around his waist.

“I’m gonna take him to the club room and call one of our moms to come pick us up. Do you need me here?”

“No, go take care of our idiot captain,” their coach responded, his arms crossed over his chest. Normally, Oikawa would’ve squaked at the insult, but it was taking all of his attention to stay awake.

“We got this man. Go handle the child,” Makki snickered.

“Mean, Makki,” Oikawa managed to whine as he and Iwa stumbled out of the gym.

By the time they got back to the club room, Oikawa was sweating profusely, panting, and leaning almost all of his weight on Iwaizumi.

Iwa led them to the back of the clubroom and guided them down to sit against the wall. Oikawa shivered and immediately curled into Iwa’s side.

“How the hell did you let it get so bad, Shittykawa,” Iwa questioned. His tone held more concern than malice and it settled Oikawa’s nerves ever so slightly.

“Mmm, so warm Iwa-chan,” was all Oikawa could respond with. Iwaizumi scoffed, but threw an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder and pulled him closer anyway. The setter smiled.

“Yo, who should I call?” Iwaizumi asked, his tone still lacking its normal gruffness.

“Everyone in my family is working right now, Iwa-chan. No one is going to pick up,” Oikawa said. His throat was getting sore now. That means he’s sick sick. He frowned. Another shiver shot up his spine.

Iwa sighed, “okay. I’ll call my mom. She won’t be able to get here for at least half an hour though. Will you be okay until then? We can take the bus if you want.”

Oikawa nuzzled into Iwa’s shoulder. The smallest hints of his cologne were still present, despite getting sweaty from practice.

“No. No bus. We’ll want for Auntie, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll call her.”

“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa yawned. His eyes started drifting closed. Man, did a nap sound perfect right now.

“Don’t apologize, Tooru. Just scared me,” Iwa muttered and Oikawa felt the ace’s nose nuzzle into the top of his head. He relaxed further, in spite of the chills running through his body.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you when my mom gets here,” Iwa whispered and Oikawa couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so soft. At least towards him anyway. Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa down gently so the setter’s head was pillowed on his lap.

Oikawa fell asleep to Iwaizumi’s gentle hands carding through his hair.

#iwaoi #sick oikawa #fever #fainting #haikyuu sickfic #caretaker Iwaizumi #my fic

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terrortalesv · 3 years

Text

Starting a family

@tr85n asked for prompt #99 from that list, with Pam/Benson.

Human AU where Stella is the bio child of both of them.

Pam chews on a pen absently as she wanders into the breakroom to join her coworkers, who had already started their lunch break about ten minutes prior. Instantly, the smell of tuna and mayo hits her nose and makes her gag.

She steps out again and runs to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Leaning against the washbasin for a few seconds, she waits to see if the feeling will pass or get worse, sighing with relief when it goes away. Weird. What is going on lately? she thinks.

Pam looks at herself in the mirror again and leaves the bathroom.

When she returns, her colleagues welcome her back with strange stares. Fortunately, they are all no longer eating, so the food, including the dreaded tuna, is gone, though she swears some vague smells still linger. She tries to ignore it, and sits down.

“Uhh, yes?” Pam looks around at the group while she takes her salad from the fridge beside her.

“Pam? Is everything okay? You seem a little… off today,” Stefan takes the seat right next to her. His tone is sincere, maybe even a little worried, the giggle as he snatches a piece of tomato from her bowl decidedly less so. Pam tosses a glare his way.

She shoves a forkful of leaves into her mouth before speaking, “I don’t know, it’s really weird.” And then she rattles off the various things she’s been dealing with as of late. She describes the mood swings, the fatigue, the constant hunger, the nausea.

By the end of her spiel, Stefan and her other closest coworker, Tobias, are giving each other a strange look, as if they’re in on a secret, a piece of the puzzle that they want to reveal but aren’t exactly allowed to.

“Ohhh. I know what’s going on here,” Tobias says smugly. The other man chuckles.

Pam looks at him and puts more salad in her mouth, not bothering to ask him to elaborate. She knows he will regardless.

“Obviously somebody’s pregnant,” Tobias leans over the table, close to her face, and says in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooohhh! Uh-oh!” Stefan teases.

Pam’s eyes widen and she almost chokes on some cracked pepper. After a few brief seconds, she comes to her senses.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. It’s probably just that bug that’s been going around,” she tells them, and continues eating.

“Actually, yeah, maybe it is,” one of their older colleagues chimes in as he gets up to leave the breakroom.

“Psh, yeah. Whatever you say,” Tobias teases. He rolls his eyes and then he and his friend exit the room to go back to work, leaving Pam alone.

She sighs into her salad bowl and stabs at the remaining leaves with her fork. “Pregnant? Yeah, really funny, guys. No way,” she laughs to herself, but those strange symptoms linger in the back of her mind and she begins to have doubts.

No, but we haven’t even been trying. Besides, I’m way past that age anyway, right? Obviously it’s just a coincidence and they were messing with me. Yeah. You’re not pregnant, Pam, stop thinking about that.

She doesn’t stop thinking about it. She spends most of the next few hours thinking about it, convincing herself she’s not pregnant, that that was just a stupid joke those guys were telling, and then doubting herself.

She continues like this for a while, until she steps into one room to check on the equipment and sees something that catches her eye. She remembers their boss telling them about this thing, a super new, super high-tech machine that allows the user to see inside anything. She remembers her telling them about how this device was not only better than a standard x-ray machine, but safer.

Pam thinks for a moment. I mean, I already know I’m not pregnant. But what’s the harm in just having a little look-see, right?

She checks to see if there’s anyone watching her and closes the blinds just in case someone might walk by. Breathing a sigh, Pam presses some buttons on the device, listens as it whirs to life, and steps behind it.

She has to wait a few minutes before an image appears on the whiteboard to her right. All the usual things are there, nothing seems amiss. That is, until she shifts her eyes to her lower belly area, where a tiny, strange shape sits.

Her heart sinks and the nausea returns with a vengeance. She looks away from the screen, breathing heavily. Whatever it is, upon first glance it looks unlike anything that would ordinarily be inside a healthy human body. Pam swallows, although the dryness in her mouth doesn’t so easily allow it.

What is that? Some kind of weird mass in my stomach. Oh, no. It can’t be. Is this how I’m going to die? I should’ve caught this so much sooner, it’s probably way too late to deal with it now. But maybe I should book in with a doctor anyway, see if they can—

She shakes her head. Slowly she comes to her senses, though her heart rate and breathing take longer to return to normal.

“It’s okay, Pam. You’re not dying. At least not yet. Let’s just take a better look at this thing and then make our assumptions,” she tells herself.

She cautiously cranes her neck to look at the board again and takes more notice of the shape. One part of it is much larger, and the other has four small… things sticking out from it. She swears she sees a tiny human in that shape, as strange as it sounds, with the big head and teeny-tiny limbs. Wait.

Hand over face, Pam slowly steps away from the machine and turns it off. The picture is still projected on the wall. She stares wordlessly, eyes wide, hands slipping down to her belly. She’s unsure if she should be concerned or happy.

A million thoughts race through her mind at once, not daring to leave her alone for even a second, as much as she tries to ignore them. She wanders the halls of the vast laboratory, pretending to work whenever someone else is nearby, but spends the remainder of the work day too distracted to actually do anything.

How am I going to tell Benson? How is he going to react? Does he even want to be a dad? He seems perfectly content with just the pets. And what about me? Am I even cut out to be a mom? The animals are kind of a handful already, how are we possibly going to deal with a kid?

When Pam arrives home, she walks past the throng of cats that greet her at the door, enters their bedroom and flops down on the bed, exhausted.

She tells herself she’s only going to lie down for an hour, but wakes up several hours later to the sound of her husband setting the table for dinner. Groggily, she gets up and stumbles out to the kitchen.

Benson’s head snaps up at the sound of her footsteps and he smiles at her. She loves that smile, so much so that it causes all her worries to fade away. But not for very long.

“Hey! Sleep well?” He puts an arm around her and kisses her on the cheek.

“Yeah,” Pam offers him a tired smile and sits down at her usual chair. Benson quickly follows, tucking her chair in for her and then sitting down himself. He scoops up some pesto linguine and plops it onto both of their plates, then grabs a piece of garlic bread and takes a bite out of it. Pam tries her best to eat as much as she can, but her mind is still elsewhere. Benson notices.

“Pam, honey? You okay? You don’t look like yourself tonight,” Benson reaches a hand across the table to grab hers and gently caresses the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Um, oh, I…” she sighs, turning her hand over to give his a squeeze, “can I tell you something?” Her heart races and she sips from a glass of water in an attempt to ease her dry mouth. Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose. Who knows, maybe putting it out there and telling him will help calm my nerves.

“Yeah, of course,” her husband looks her in the eye with a smile, voice as calm and comforting as he can possibly make it. He takes another bite of bread.

“I…” she has to clear her throat, “I’m pregnant.”

Pam watches Benson’s face. He takes a moment to process her words, then his expression goes blank and he coughs up some crumbs. A strange combination of concern and surprise paints his pale, bearded face. Slowly, a large grin appears and the tips of his ears turn pink. Pam swears she’s never seen him look so in love.

“Oh, my god… Are you for real? We’re gonna be parents? I’m gonna be a dad?” Benson whispers, almost a squeal.

“Benson? You okay?”

He wipes that tear from his eye before answering, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m great.” He gets up from his chair, seemingly completely forgetting about the food on his plate, and kneels in front of her. He gently wraps his arms around her and presses his fleshy, weathered cheek against her belly.

“We’re having a bay-bee,” he says, in a high-pitched, sing-song voice that Pam has never heard before, even after all these years.

Later that night, as they’re lying in bed facing each other, Benson gives Pam a kiss on the nose and whispers, “I’m so excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

‘I know, you keep saying that,” she giggles.

“Well, I can’t help it. We’re having a baby. Together. Don’t you think that’s… the best?” He moves some hair out of her eye with a finger.

Pam can only respond with a tired “mm-hmm” as she closes her eyes. Benson carefully presses a cold, calloused hand to her belly and she shivers.

“Sorry,” he tilts his head toward where his hand is sitting, “we’re so excited to meet you, baby.”

“You know it can’t hear yet, dad.”

“Dad…” just from the tone of his voice, Pam can tell Benson likes the sound of that.

#regular show #pam #benson #mywriting

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

Salt & Snow - Chapter 5

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The daughter of House Caspian begins to realize her place in a world of strict tradition and hierarchy. A tragedy strikes Winterfell, bringing her closer to the Starks.

The brush slid across the thick paper, making a beautifully straight line. The black paint was bold against the paper, which wasn’t completely white, but it was the closest she’d seen, almost as white as snow. What a wonderful birthday gift. Y/N had a thin wooden palette that she perched on her lap, allowing her to take the paper anywhere and paint what she saw. She already had ideas of what to send Ned, although transporting a painting without damaging it would be troublesome. Maybe it was best to just keep it in Winterfell until he came back? He had to return soon, he was seventeen. It had to be soon.

It’s what Lyanna talked about often, and Y/N didn’t blame her. She wanted him back too, though maybe for different reasons. She was pleased he still kept writing to her, entertaining her childish whims, although she didn’t feel childish anymore. They didn’t talk about ‘childish’ topics, either, it was always… all sorts of things. Y/N could write to Ned about anything on her mind, and he did the same.

I hope we can talk as easily. What if he comes back and I don’t know what to say? Y/N wondered if that was a silly thought. She refocused on her painting, dabbing a small brush into the paints she’d set up beside her. There weren’t many colors to work with, but that made it an interesting challenge. The training yard was busy this late, so she had plenty of subjects to observe. Painting moving figures was a new challenge. It wouldn’t be a perfect still life, instead, she’d try her own composition of movement and action.

Y/N hummed to herself as she worked. She had only two hours before the sun would set, but she was confident she could finish the rest of it in her room.

“Don’t most girls paint flower fields and vases?”

“I’m a lady,” Y/N responded. She didn’t look up from her painting right away, wanting to finish a few more brush strokes. “You should always be gracious to a lady, especially if you’re a future ‘Lord Stark’.”

Brandon grinned. “I was going to scare you, but I decided to be nice instead. That’s very gracious, I think.”

Now you sound like your little brother. Y/N set her brush down next to the paints. She observed Brandon was still in his traveling clothes. “When did you return?”

“Just over an hour ago. It was a slow ride, Ser Roderick wouldn’t let me go ahead of the escort.”

“There’s a reason for that.” Y/N smiled at his impatience. “How was the Rills?”

“The same as always. Next week I’m going to see Lord Manderly. While I’m there, I could stop by your family’s castle. Perhaps I could bring a gift to them.”

“That would be wonderful. You know they would love to have your company, my lord.”

Brandon’s smile was infectious, Y/N had to admit. Thank the gods he was over that irritating phase he had before, acting like he was too grown-up and superior to bother with Y/N and his younger siblings. Well, he could still be irksome to Benjen and Lyanna, but they paid him back tenfold with their usual mischief. Y/N was just pleased he acted like the lord he should be around her. Pleasantries made things easier, and it really would be kind of him to bring her father a pelt or her mother a rare book.

Right now, he was leaning over to see what she was painting, as he’d often been doing the past year. She knew he had no interest in art, but he still made a point to ask about what she was working on.

It’s good for him to at least feign interest and learn about others. Maybe all those scoldings from Lord and Lady Stark are finally sinking in. Y/N thought. She showed him what she’d been working on, groups of men at swordplay. “They’re finally used to my sketching, I think. At first they gave me peculiar looks.”

“It’s because you were staring.” That charming smile turned to an amusing pout. “You shouldn’t be staring at strange men, Y/N, or drawing them.”

“They aren’t strange at all! I know their names, and they’re sworn men, besides. Are you just upset I haven’t drawn you?”

She was teasing like Lyanna and Benjen did, but he didn’t respond like she thought. Brandon actually huffed. “Better me than some old guardsman.”

“Sit down, then.” Y/N gestured to the seat next to her on the bench, the side not covered in paints and paper. “Portraits are always good practice.”

Brandon looked at the spot, only waiting a moment before taking a seat. He was still windblown from the road, smelling like horses and leather, but it wasn’t too unpleasant. Y/N fought the urge to smooth out his hair — it was such a mess, but he wasn’t a boy. Even Benjen was getting too old for her fussing.

“So you know, I’m not the sort to embellish.” Y/N said, her hand darting across a blank piece of paper. Messy sketches were fine for something like this. “So I will be drawing that unruly hair and those red ears.”

“They aren’t red,” Brandon grumbled and rubbed at the ears in question.

Y/N didn’t look up from her drawing. “They are. So are your cheeks. Are you cold?”

“I’d be a poor Stark if weather like this got me cold. Shouldn’t you be concentrating?”

“I am.” Y/N had to glance up to make sure the eye shape was right. Brandon had such an amusing expression, it was making her work difficult. “If you could be still, it would be easier.”

Brandon said nothing to that, only furrowing his brows further. It was startling how much he looked like Lord Stark, while Lyanna took after her mother. Benjen was a clear mix of the two, but all of them had that long face and dark coloring. She pictured Ned’s face in her mind, trying to remember the last time she saw him. Gods, was that three years ago? Maybe four? He must look so different now. Taller, with a proper sword and the skills to back it up - and what about those grey eyes? Would they be darker or lighter? Did he finally cut that brown hair, to better fit in with the Eyrie, or did he keep it long and Northern?

“What are you smiling about?” Brandon asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Y/N said Someone in the distance drew her attention away, which she was grateful for. She waved at him. “Ben!”

Brandon scowled at his little brother walked up. Benjen was already taller than Y/N, thanks to his spindly limbs. He looked around at the art supplies and Brandon’s awkward posture. “I hate it say it, but you’d be better off with a different subject, Y/N. There’s only so much you can do with this one.”

Benjen dodged out of the way of his older brother’s grip. His reflexes were nothing to sneeze at. “Big words from a skinny rat!” Brandon said, getting up to grab at his brother again, but Benjen was too quick. The older Stark may have been as big as his father now, but he had a certain … lack of grace. No doubt he was tired from the trip, too.

“Should I use smaller words?” Benjen easily danced around him.

“Do this somewhere else!” Y/N laughed. That was the end of the little sitting session, then. Brandon couldn’t be still after getting riled up; he was like a dog in that way. “Be careful, would you?”

“I’m just going to teach him a lesson—!” Brandon said, finally getting Benjen in his grasp. He cursed when his brother easily twisted out of his grip and hit his nose. It wasn’t a real punch, but it still hurt, and Brandon shook his head while Benjen unhooked his sword from his belt.

“Thanks!” Benjen scurried off, carrying the sword that was too heavy for him to actually wield. Y/N rolled her eyes at how Brandon predictably ran after him with a fresh new string of curses. He had only been home a few hours before he was going back to silliness with his brother. Lyanna would have joined in too, had she been here. Their latest pasttime was stealing the beautiful new sword Brandon was so proud of. Benjen just liked to stir up trouble, but Lyanna was sour she couldn’t have steel of her own.

What has she been doing today? Y/N hadn’t seen much of her friend today. Lyanna didn’t enjoy the last feast, which was a small affair - only half a dozen families were there, and not all their members - but she was still put off. Y/N hadn’t known Lyanna to retire before her, but that night, she did. It was usually the fatigued Lady Stark that was the early departure, not her fiery daughter.

Thinking about it now, Lyanna was unusually quiet through breakfast this morning, and she had been riding most of the day. Y/N considered that maybe she should have gone with her, even if being near a horse still made her shudder. She could have at least sat on the edge of the riding field and watched Lyanna. Maybe she wanted to be alone. If she really wanted me there, I know she would have dragged me.

With all her art supplies carefully packed up, Y/N returned to the castle and planned to find out what Lyanna’s mood was. I could be overthinking everything. We’re women now, four and ten years, we don’t have to cling about each other anymore.

Y/N nodded to the servants and guards when she saw them, giving a smile to those she knew well. They had long been familiar, pleasant faces that she relied upon. It recently occurred to Y/N that she knew them better than the servants of Whitetide, whose faces were rapidly disappearing from her memory. Maybe if her parents didn’t visit twice or thrice a year, and if she didn’t love them so much, she’d begin to lose their faces, too.

Their shared bedchamber was warm from a low-burning fire in the hearth. Y/N set her supplies down on her desk before shedding her thick cloak. It was fastened with a lovely silver manta ray that had a tiny pearl for an eye, a gift from Lady Stark herself. Y/N’s name day had passed a few months ago, and while her parents couldn’t visit, her second family was right there beside her. Lady Stark’s hands had become pale and thin, but she still wanted to fasten the pin herself after presenting it to Y/N. Then she patted her head like adults did to children, but Y/N couldn’t mind it.

Y/N was so caught up in turning the little manta ray in her hands, she didn’t hear the bedroom door open and close. The stomping of feet made her jump, and she swiveled to see Lyanna yanking off her riding boots and shaking the snow off them in the most unladylike way.

“So you were riding all day,” Y/N said, setting the pin into her modest jewelry box. She offered a smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Lyanna didn’t respond right away. She pulled at her cloak instead, tossing it on one of the chairs by the hearth. Y/N’s smile fell. There was an obvious dark cloud around her friend. Lyanna kicked her boots aside and huffed as she sank into an overstuffed chair. She was becoming too leggy to curl up into it like a child.

“Why in the seven hells can I not wear riding trousers?” She said irritably. “I’m sure the washerwomen are sick of cleaning the smell out of my dresses.”

Y/N sat in the chair across from her, settling herself into it. “And the horsehair.”

“It itches terribly. If I had a tunic, it wouldn’t be so bothersome, nor would the branches in my way.” Lyanna picked a leaf off her sleeve. Trouble was brewing in her grey eyes. There was fire in them even without the hearth lighting her face, a natural energy that possessed her entire person. Lyanna was more wolf than any of them, and when she hunched in the chair with her long legs drawn to her chest, she looked like a trapped one.

Y/N waited for her to speak first. There was something on her friend’s mind, but she had to find the words. Once she had them, Lyanna said, “You weren’t bothered at that feast. The last one, with the Karstarks and Glovers and Cassels.”

It was strange for her to bring it up now, but Y/N had just been thinking about it as well. Overall, Y/N would dare to say she enjoyed herself, even if the Karstark boys were too blunt in their desire to dance with her.

“I wasn’t too bothered. It wasn’t as crowded as it usual; I could hear the music for once. I was able to dance for a while, and the lords and their sons behaved.” Y/N didn’t know what else to say. “You left early. You didn’t want to dance?”

“Of course not!” Lyanna responded so sharply, it startled her old friend. “Why would I? Why would you?”

Y/N had no idea what Lyanna meant by that. That embarrassing dance with Roose Bolton a year ago had made her self-conscience of how clumsy her movements were. Lady Stark was delighted that Y/N took an interest in learning grace and how to carry herself better; and didn’t it make sense to test it out? Now that she didn’t overthink the steps, she could enjoy the exercise and the music. The company was good, and when she was tired, she japed around with Benjen and little Jory.

With all those racing thoughts, Y/N simply said, “I enjoy dancing, if that’s what you mean. What’s the matter with that?”

Lyanna shook her head, her brown hair falling farther out of a braid that was already coming undone. She’d lost another set of silk hair ribbons. “I don’t know how you stand it. You’re just a prize to them, you know, a bauble. You shouldn’t even amuse them. Neither of us should.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The men! The lords or their sons, whichever! We’re just stupid little brides to them. Didn’t you notice them looking at you? Shoving their sons at you? Lord Karstark had them all lined up! And even if they’re married, they’ll leer!”

“That’s… that’s ridiculous, Lyanna,” Y/N stammered. “Where did this come from?”

“Y/N, we’re women grown now!” Lyanna was bursting with energy and frustration that she couldn’t get out fast enough. “My mother married at six and ten! It’s nearly time for us, time for arrangements! Soon every lord will be nibbling at my father’s heels to take me off his hands, and no doubt your own lord father has received letters from all the ones you danced with.”

“Lyanna. Did someone tell you something?” Y/N asked. She was already trying to avoid thinking of the future, and Lyanna had never discussed it with her. She thought her friend didn’t think of it at all. “Before you, Brandon will marry, and that hasn’t even been discussed.”

“Of course it has! Why would they tell us? They can marry me off without finding him a bride, and without asking what I think.” Her cheeks were burning with red anger now. “I’m a Stark, so I can’t stay in the North. They’ll send me away somewhere — somewhere South, because where else? I’ll have to leave Winterfell, while my brothers and everyone I love stay!”

Y/N went to Lyanna, taking her hands in her own. She squeezed them tight. “Where did all this come from? Have your parents been talking?”

“No one needs to tell me. It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Lyanna said, looking Y/N right in the eyes. “That’s what we’ve got to look forward to, Y/N. The feasts aren’t meant to be fun for us. Maybe for the men, but not for us. We’re there to be picked and chosen, like prize fillies.”

Lyanna squeezed their hands tight, so tight it hurt right away. She stared at Y/N’s clean nails and smooth palms. Except for the occasional smudges from paint, they were always like this. Lyanna looked at her own, already becoming calloused at the palms and thumb, often edged with dirt around her nailbeds.

Y/N was at a loss. Her friend’s harsh words were true enough; she was well aware of what their duties as women were. It crossed her mind now and again, the thought of marriage and that she’d have to return home eventually so her parents could begin to plan. She’d push those thoughts away, hoping the day would come slowly. She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, or her dear friends.

Still, she said, “It… It has to happen eventually. Our parents aren’t cruel, they wouldn’t give us terrible husbands, and they’d talk to us before any arrangement. When we have to leave Winterfell —”

“You won’t.” Lyanna pulled their hands apart. “You’ll be staying here, Y/N, and I’ll be sent away.”

“What? No, when my parents are ready arrange a match, they’ll call me back to Whitetide.”

“You aren’t going back! Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to marry one of my brothers!”

After that statement, the only sound in the bedroom was the crackling of the fire. Lyanna didn’t back down. In this light, her Stark eyes weren’t grey at all, only hot steel.

“How do you know that?” Y/N said. With the loss of Lyanna’s hands, she nervously tugged at end of her long sleeves. “Did … did someone say —?”

“No one has to! I thought you knew! You’re fourteen, a woman grown, and my parents haven’t sent you back, nor have your’s asked for you. When they meet, they’re always whispering and glancing around. Brandon will marry outside the North, as the oldest son, and Ned will marry inside, as the second. Benjen will serve Winterfell. It’s how these matters are done, Y/N.”

Y/N’s throat closed as she choked up. Her blood was rushing in discomfort. She didn’t want to fight, she wished they could just change the subject. What brought this on? She’d never seen Lyanna in a mood like this. “You don’t — you don’t know that. Maybe my parents will send for me in a month. We don’t know.”

“Maybe they will, but when it’s time for you to leave, they’ll send me away, too. There’s a reason mother doesn’t care if I spurn the lordlings here.”

Lyanna’s anger had broken again, now it was just frustration and sadness. The two girls stood in silence. The flames of the fire made shadows in the room, and that was the only thing that moved for some time. The shadows seemed to grasp at the two of them, little fingers reaching for their dresses and hair. Y/N was the one who stepped forward, wanting to make it better.

“We’ll always be friends,” Y/N said, trying to keep her own choked up voice steady. “No matter what. I won’t ever forget you. I’ll write you a dozen letters a month if you get sent to the south.”

Lyanna was tired. She couldn’t attempt a smile, but she said, “That’s more than you write to Ned. If he ended up in a green field instead of a mountain, would you have sent more?”

“No, the dozen is only for you.” Y/N said, even if she cursed the slowness of her letters to the Eyrie so many times, it felt like a mantra. She touched Lyanna’s shoulder. “Let’s ready for supper, Lyanna. You’ve been riding a long time.”

Lyanna only reluctantly went along with her. After dinner, they changed into their nightgowns and brushed each other’s hair, as usual, but there was no laughter and joking this time. When they huddled under the furs, Lyanna faced away, still deep in her thoughts. Y/N didn’t know what else to say, if anything at all would help, so she closed her eyes.

“What are you reading?” Benjen’s long hair swung back and forth as he hung upside down. Y/N looked up, wondering when he managed to scramble right above her. Just a few minutes ago he was struggling to get on the first branch.

“A letter,” Y/N said, “Although I think you already knew that.”

Benjen grinned. “I did, and I know who it’s from.” He swung back up on the branch and easily moved himself to a standing position. He reached for another branch and lifted himself with ease, starting his disappearance into the leaves. With each branch he climbed, a few leaves fell down. Y/N pulled one from her hair.

She rested against the trunk and returned to her letter. Ned was writing about Robert’s attempt at jousting. He much preferred the melee, but ladies preferred the jousting, he said. Y/N was pleased Ned stayed out of all that. He also tried to doodle a little manta ray, in response to the direwolves and cats and deer she often drew on the margins of her letters. They were… arrow-y looking. Close enough.

I’ll have to pick up some skills from you the next time we meet. I don’t think I’d be a good student, but just watching you paint with my own eyes would be enough. You’ve written about it before, but I think hearing you talk about it would be much different. I want to you to tell me.

Y/N closed the letter hastily, wondering if her beating heart and sweaty palms were showing on her face. She glanced around and caught eyes with Brandon. She kept noticing his staring in the past hour, even though he was across the training yard trying to practice. It was a little strange. Are there leaves in my hair again? She touched her hair from the top of her head to her pearl. Brandon seemed annoyed, so she’d prefer he kept his gaze to himself.

The tree branches shook above her, and she heard feet scuffling around. “Ben, be careful!” Y/N called upward. “You shouldn’t climb so high!”

Benjen either didn’t hear her, or was pretending to not hear. Y/N sighed, folding her letter, stashing it in her belt and standing up. She craned her head, trying to spy the wiry boy through the leaves. He may have been a year younger, but she fretted over him from time to time, thinking of her little brothers back in Whitetide.

“Maybe he’ll climb high enough to catch a cloud and float away.” Brandon was beside her before she knew it, and Y/N was glad he didn’t seem as bothered as she thought. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Maybe,” Y/N giggled. She heard more rattling, but it didn’t sound like leaves. It was metal chains, and coming from a different direction. Behind the two of them, the maester approached them as fast as he could, the old man breathing hard as the chains swayed around his neck. He didn’t seem to care about the mud dirtying the end of his robes.

“What’s happened?” Brandon asked while the maester tried to catch his breath. In all the years she’d been here, Y/N had never seen the man so harried, and it seemed neither had Brandon. For a panicked, irrational moment, Y/N thought there was a raven from Whitetide. Dark wings, dark words.

“Lady… Lady Stark has … a … an illness.” The maester took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. “She has been … weak, as you know, but … it’s far worse than I thought. She needs to be kept apart from everyone else at the Keep. When was the last time you spoke with her, children?”

Brandon took a moment to respond. “This morning, I talked with her, she— she hugged me, but —”

The maester shook his head. “And you, Lady Y/N?”

“Last night, at dinner,” Y/N said quietly. “She took my hand…”

She remembered the kind gesture, and now weary and pale Lady Stark looked. That night, her eyes looked especially tired. She’d begun to hold onto her husband or one of the servants when she walked to and from her room, the place she stayed in the most nowadays. No one seemed to want to talk about her worsening condition, not even the Lady herself. Out of respect to her, no one mentioned it openly.

The leaves danced around them as Benjen swooped down from a low branch. “Can’t we see her?”

“I just said you cannot,” The maester said. “She will be kept away from here on, and we will burn her things and anything she has come in contact with. Now, if the three of you will come with me, I’ve already spoken with Lord Stark and Lyanna…”

Lady Lyarra Stark died within a week. The children heard of the passing suddenly, as her husband was the only one who could visit her through her last days. No amount of guards or a maester’s lecturing would keep Lord Stark from her bedside.

Y/N stood next to Lyanna at the funeral, allowing her friend to clutch her as they all prayed in the godswood. Lady Stark’s bones had been kept in a beautifully engraved wooden chest, and they would be moved to a place of honor in the crypts, but that was little comfort to the children she left behind.

Y/N said some prayers aloud, mouthed others, but kept her head down the entire time. She heard the servants of Winterfell crying and praying, and clearer than that, Lyanna’s crying into the fur draped around Y/N’s shoulder. Her voice was muffled, but Y/N could still feel her body shaking. Y/N herself was trying to keep her tears from rolling down her face. The warmth of them stung her cold cheeks terribly.

Benjen was quiet on the other side of her, staring up at the red leaves like he was in a daze. Brandon seethed beside his father, who was as old as the stone lords in the crypts. Y/N was anxious to see Lord Stark’s expression, knowing it would either scare her or make her tears come faster.

The Starks stayed behind to keep vigil while the servants and guards returned to the keep. Y/N didn’t know how long she stayed kneeling in the snow. She listened to Lyanna’s quieting tears and remembering the kindnesses Lady Stark had given her. Anytime Y/N missed her own mother, Lady Stark was ready to speak with her, to teach her something, or hold her for a while. Y/N couldn’t imagine how the others felt. She thought of her mother now, safe in Whitetide, and desperately wished she could see her.

“Return to the keep,” Lord Stark said after some time. Y/N still didn’t know how long they’d been outside. “All of you.”

“Father —” Brandon started.

“Go.”

Their lord father’s voice was hoarse and hard. He didn’t look at any of his children as they slowly stood around him. Y/N’s legs had gone completely numb from both the cold and kneeling. She wobbled, and Lyanna tried to help her stay upright, no doubt just as weak-legged herself. Benjen found his way to his sister’s side, holding onto her like she held onto Y/N. It reminded Y/N of when he was younger, tagging alongside the two of them.

Y/N glanced back, noticing that Brandon was still trying to linger by his father. She didn’t know if they exchanged words, but eventually Brandon caught up to them as they walked back to the keep.

They all walked slowly, and the Winterfell that greeted them was eerily quiet. The kitchen staff worked with no cheer or haste, the smith’s anvil was quiet, there were no carts or wagons being pulled through the gate. At the feast hall, the candles were burning low, and there was only one servant tending to the cleaning the floors. Her scrubbing was interrupted by intermittent sniffling.

Ned couldn’t be here, Y/N thought not for the first time. Her heart sunk into her gut, making her feel sick. She knew the others were thinking the same. What could I say? What could I possibly say?

She mechanically walked to the main parlor, sitting down at the windowsill. Lyanna sat by the hearth, Benjen sat beside his sister, and Brandon had split off from them quickly. Y/N looked out the window, glad it faced away from the Godswood. She had a feeling if it did, she’d see Lord Stark still kneeling in the snow. She recalled Ned told her the Eyrie’s godswood was more of a little forest, and her heart ached even further. It almost made her cry again. How are the gods supposed to watch over him? Or hear him when he’s in trouble?

She would wait for Lord Stark to send word, if it hadn’t already been done, then she’d send a letter to Ned herself. She’d paint something, too, something special. She’d do anything, if only she knew what that was. Why couldn’t he be here? Y/N rubbed at her raw eyes and rested her head against the cool glass of the window, letting the chill hit her dizzying, exhausted head.

Y/N stirred and sat up slowly. Her head was aching from the awkward angle she fell asleep at. She squinted out the window, but there was only darkness. Across the room, the fire was low, and a chill was settling in the room. Y/N pulled her fur cloak closer around her and shivered. Where was everyone?

She slipped off the windowsill and wandered the halls. If it was dinnertime, no one woke her up, and she didn’t smell meats cooking as she entered the great hall. Y/N stepped outside into the fresh snow, wondering if the day had all been a terrible dream.

It wasn’t, though, and she couldn’t hide from it. People died all the time, especially women and children. If it wasn’t this sickness, Lady Stark may have died in childbirth. That was a far more common fate, something Y/N would have to worry about herself one day. Some day soon.

She sighed heavily and hesitated at the edge of the godswood. The darkness was all around her, with the warmth and light of Winterfell far behind. She took a step forward, letting her boot sink into the snow. The moon was waning, giving off the slightest light. The white bark of the trees and the snow glowed on a full moon, but tonight, they disappeared.

One foot in front of the other, the snow crunched below Y/N’s feet. She kept thinking about Ned, imagining his expression, what he would say — she would never know, of course, and that made it worse. She could only write and draw, there was no holding and comforting. The thought of holding him hit her so strongly, her body ached. Lady Stark held her when she worried about her uncle at sea, when she caught sick or when she hurt herself. Y/N wanted to hold Ned like that, even if he was far bigger than she. Maybe this was a stupid, girlish, childish thought. Maybe it was, but stupid words on paper didn’t seem like enough.

There was a clear path that let to the heart tree, but the darkness didn’t help her navigate, a strange noise did. It made her jump at first, but there were no wolves in these woods. She listened carefully. There was the distinct sound of someone shuffling around in the snow, like they were standing up. Y/N anxiously wondered if it was Lord Stark. No, he can’t be here still. It’s been half a day …

She jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice call out, echoing off the snow and the trees. “Who goes there?!”

“I-It’s only me,” Y/N started, ready to apologize to Lord Stark, but the voice sounded off. Too young, too angry. “…Brandon? Is that you?”

The person didn’t respond, but she heard boots trudging clumsily through the snow. She felt a presence next to her, and finally she could see his outline. Y/N reached forward and was surprised to not touch a fur cloak or thick surcoat, but a fairly thin tunic that was frigid cold, and the stiff muscles underneath it. Brandon didn’t flinch away from her, so she kept her hold on his forearms.

“Brandon, come inside.” Y/N said. Her own voice was weak, she realized, and she was already shivering. “It’ll get colder, and it’s already so dark. How long have you been here?”

Brandon sniffled, both from the cold and the tears, she assumed. “Father hasn’t come in. I was waiting …”

Y/N shook her head. He must have come right outside after realizing it was dark and Lord Stark still hadn’t returned to the keep. “You can’t stay out here all night. Come inside. Please?”

Brandon didn’t seem easy on his feet, and he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “I-I have a vigil to keep. I have to — father is, s-so I should at least try…”

“You’re cold, and exhausted, besides. You ran out here without anything, you fool. Why aren’t you wearing a cloak?”

He mumbled something in return. Y/N pulled the tall boy toward her, wanting to urge him toward the light in the distance. She was ready to give him her modest cloak, just enough to serve until they reached the warmth of Winterfell, but then he wrapped his arms around her. Y/N let out a noise of surprise as his head slumped on her shoulder. Brandon was heavy, but she kept steady. For a moment, it was all still: The godswood around them, Brandon in her arms, the night above them.

Y/N was about to speak, but then she heard a noise, like a deep gasp. Brandon shook from the cold and his own emotion. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him cry.

Robert shook his leg impatiently, causing the thick heel of his boot to tap against the floor again and again. Normally Lord Arryn would chastise him for his restlessness, but the two of them had been quiet for days. Robert didn’t like quiet, or gloominess. He didn’t want to stay like this a minute longer.

“Has he left his room yet?” Robert asked for the third time.

“Be patient, Robert.” Lord Arryn replied expectedly. “Recall that terrible day you endured.”

He didn’t have to recall his own parents’ demise. Robert thought about it often, a wound that was still fresh, and it only closed up when he drank enough or when a pretty girl sat by him. It’d come back afterward, though, and then he had Ned to talk to.

He shouldn’t have to go through the same thing, Robert thought irritably. The worst part is, he knew Ned wouldn’t want a drink or a pretty girl, or a fight, or a new horse. He would just sit in his own sorrow, brooding in that way he did. The young Baratheon huffed, shifting his restless energy to tapping his fingers on the table. Ned was always talking him out of trouble and listening to his worries — the only person he’d ever spoken to about them. But what did Robert ever do for him?

The Baratheon heir growled in frustration and stood from his seat abruptly. Lord Arryn only glanced up a moment, but Robert was already gone.

He barged into Ned’s room, and was half disappointed Ned wasn’t there — he’d been sitting vigil at the Eyrie’s godswood for too damned long, but that made this next part easier. Ned had several of his girl’s paintings up around his desk, where anyone could see them, but Robert knew where he kept the letters. He opened the bottom drawer and in a wooden box with the direwolf sigil, and there they were.

Robert had read some before. Sometimes Ned would read things aloud, sometimes Robert snuck in here, but they were never that exciting. Always talking about Winterfell or what the horses were doing, nothing salacious like a proper love letter should be. Still, they made Ned happy. Robert picked a few out and tucked them carefully in his doublet.

The grass crunched under his boots as he entered the godswood. The fiery red leaves and snow-white bark looked out of place amongst the rocky Eyrie, he always thought, especially when there was bright green grass and regular trees around the weirwoods. He spotted Ned at the same place he’d been for hours, kneeling. His head was lowered slightly, some of his long brown hair falling around him, and Robert wondered if he was asleep. Then Ned raised his head and turned it.

“Robert?”

“Brought you something.” Robert said. Ned wasn’t getting up, so he awkwardly knelt beside him. Gods, it was murder on the knees, and even in that position he was far taller than Ned. Robert retrieved the letters from his doublet and handed them over.

Ned looked at them with hope, then confusion.

“They aren’t new,” Robert said, chuckling. “I just … I remembered you liked these ones. Y/N was writing something about a festival? And Lyanna stole a sword off your brother. Y/N wrote about her dress, and something about a horse…”

He trailed off, wondering if this was a stupid idea. He was terrible at this. These were the letters with the most pictures, giving life to what Y/N wrote about, as clear as any maester’s history book. Ned stared at the papers in his hands, lightly touching a rare self-portrait Y/N had done of her new gown.

I worked on it for two weeks, although your lady mother helped me several times over. It’s the first one I’ve sewn by myself, and I hope I do it justice. This may not be interesting to you, but I’m proud. It’s cerulean and white.

Lyanna wanted me to draw her with Brandon’s sword. She thinks it’s very funny. ‘How can he call himself a lord when he can’t keep hold of his own sword?’ I thought Benjen was the thief, but Lyanna can be just as clever. It took him all day to realize she’d replaced his with a dull training sword.

Do you remember when you found my pearl? You couldn’t forget, I know, but I still think about it when remove it to brush my hair. I’ll never forget that kindness, Ned.

He smiled for the first time in a week. To Robert’s excitement, he made an expression for the first time in days.

“You can go back home,” Robert offered, wanting to keep the mood up. “Even if it’s just for a short time.”

They were men grown, ten and seven years old. If anything, they should have left the Eyrie by now. Both of them knew it was only a matter of time, though Robert didn’t want to go back to Storm’s End after all these years, having to finally take his lordly duties seriously. Ned was a second son, his duty would be commanding the household guard or visiting with minor houses.

Robert had a feeling if Ned left now, he wouldn’t come back to the Eyrie.

“Perhaps.” The Stark said quietly.

Their easy days had to end eventually. Why did it have to be on such a damned sad note?

Robert looked up at the heart tree. Its eerie, foreign face stared down at him. He had no prayers to give, only a quiet request that when Ned returned to Winterfell, it would be safely. The only noise for a long time was the wind rustling the branches of the white trees and the shuffling of the letters as Ned re-read them.

#ned stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #salt & snow #libra fics #i just realized all the summaries of this fic hint at something sad happening LOL

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