#full of angst and used to being a young adult

[charlietheepicwriter7]

"Probably because they don't have a grave," Danny said, pulling out his vape. "Final resting places are--HEY!"

Nightwing held the pilfered vape above his head. "Where did you get this?" he asked, scandalized.

Danny jumped for it, but Nightwing was too tall! Even at 5'7 he'd have to use his powers to reach the vape; he had no chance as a 9 year old. "We're in Gotham! You're lucky I didn't get cocaine instead!"

[arachine]

— ❝on this fateful night...two hearts danced.❞ ˚₊✩‧₊

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x human! reader

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in omaticayan culture, a young na’vi male does not yet become a full fledged adult until he passes one of two rites of passage: 1) choosing an ikran, and 2) carving a bow from the wood of Hometree (and/or choosing a woman). reader is now 20, and the only man she’s ever loved is expected to choose a wife soon. one day when she overhears a rumor concerning neteyam and the first woman in line to betroth him, reader is struck with grief, ultimately venturing off deep into the forest where she knows nobody will follow her—somewhere forbidden. however, unbeknownst to her, a certain someone follows her trail…

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), angst, fluff

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, use of alcohol, inebriation, size kink (kinda), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, overstimulation, riding (no penetration), m/f ejaculation, squirting…i took some things out but i think that’s it?

ᥫ᭡ notes :: what a long week this has been…but we made it! i cannot believe the first thing i post after being on hiatus for months is blue alien sex. anyway, i hope you all enjoy. also, be mindful that the dialogue switches between formal and casual. it’s something that i noticed neteyam and kiri do a lot in the movie. for what reason? idk…but the big font after the read more is intentional bc ik some ppl complain that the small font hurts their eyes :3

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 7.2k

— playlist :: spotify link

“You have been wandering off by yourself a lot lately…” 

There goes that attentiveness, you could never put anything past her—Kiri, that is. She was just too good (to a fault), and though her keen eye and emotional intelligence were extremely useful, they were also the most aggravating traits about her. 

Now, you could just tell her the truth about the place you’re always wandering off to, and you also could confide in her about the thing that’s been plaguing your mind recently—but you don’t, because you know better.  

For a split second, though, you hesitate telling her. The lean girl tilts her head, eyes flitting between your face and the satchel in your hands. Smoothly, you pull the satchel across your body and shift it to rest behind you—out of sight. 

Kiri seems to notice your apprehension, and so, she peels her eyes from the bag, offering you her full attention by resuming eye contact once again. If she has even the slightest hunch that you’re hiding something, she doesn’t voice her suspicions.

“Well, I won’t pry, sister. You know that I am always here to listen,” she reassured, reaching out a gentle hand towards your face. You let the tips of her fingers graze your cheek, the warmth of her hand providing transitory comfort. 

The two of you exchange sweet smiles before you pull away. It was getting dark, and the longer you stayed here, the harder it’d be to avoid the very thing you were trying to get away from—the very person you were trying to get away from. 

“I know, Kiri,” you grabbed her hand, encasing it between your own, “I know…but—I have to go. I promise I’m alright. I’ve just…been doing some thinking, and I think I gotta sort some things out with myself before I can be around the rest of you, you know?” 

There’s a silence between the two of you, and you’re not exactly sure if she’s taken offense to what you’ve just said, or if she’s carefully choosing her words. You decide on the latter though, because the last thing you want to do is make her feel as if she’s done something wrong, or if anyone has done something wrong. This was entirely on you; you and your stupid, selfish human heart. 

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she replies, squinting her eyes. Again, there’s a silence, but you can tell she still has something to say, like she’s mulling it over. “Will you at least be here tonight? You know, for the big feast? Everyone will be here, even Neteyam,” the girl tsks playfully, shaking her head as she walks circles around you. 

Immediately your body stiffens, and she responds to this by teasing you, “Or, I could just save you something…or maybe i’ll ask Neteyam to save you something since he’ll be the most important man tonight.”

“And why would you do that?” the words leave your tongue before you have the chance to process them. It reads rather defensively, but you ignore it. “I mean, why—why ask Neteyam?” 

“Because he’s your friend…” kiri pokes you, “because you love him,” she whispers, only this time her voice is a lot more serious, a lot quieter—a whisper. This is when you get that feeling again. 

That weird, achy feeling that leaves your stomach in knots and your throat all puffy. The sensation is debilitating—suffocating, and the only way you know how to ease it is by doing what you had set out to do in the first place (though, you were swiftly interrupted).

“Don’t be silly, Kiri,” your smile drops solemnly, “we’re…friends, just friends. Besides, he’s going to be spoken for soon. There are a lot of Na’vi women who would make fine mates…” Your voice decrescendos into the forest night air, the conversation lasting a lot longer than you’d anticipated. To stop your solemn mood from being expressed outwardly, you quickly turn around, looking back once to speak.

“Anyway, I have to go now. I’ll see you later.” Kiri nods and waves bye, her eyes watching as your small frame disappears out of her family’s tent. 

A cacophony of voices and music fall on deaf ears as you make your way through the village. The preparation is beginning, but all you can think about is him. Him, him, him. 

And ever since you overheard a rumor that Neytiri and Mo’at had chosen the next in line to become tsahik after Neytiri, your heart stopped beating…because you knew. You knew exactly what this meant—the end.

Neteyam was to be a future olo’eyktan, after all. And in Na’vi culture, the future head of the clan and the future spiritual representative were to be betrothed. You knew that, and yet, you couldn’t fathom it. Because then it’d be the end. 

The end of your late night rendezvous, the end of your special talks, the end of your banter, and your clandestine glances—your whispers. The ones that were quiet, and innocent…the ones that tingled the shell of your ears. Meant for him and you only. 

It was selfish, really. Stupid. You knew the day would come when he’d have to grow up and fulfill his duties as a Na’vi male. Just not this soon though, you wanted to hold onto him a little longer. And if drinking your pain away to preserve those precious memories could do that, then you’d do it. 

Lost in your train of thought, you don’t register that you’ve walked yourself right into the heart of a crowd until you bump into a young na’vi child. Apologizing, you then attempt to squeeze through the sea of bodies, tapping lightly on people’s legs until you reach the front. The people were cheering, celebrating the hunters’ return and the game that the Great Mother had graciously given them. 

Slowly, hunters had begun pooling in from the forest on direhorseback. Then, they started coming in clusters, all ululating, and pumping their fists in the air while holding their dead game in the other. Your head turned in awe as each hunter rode past you, the energy of the people so contagious that your sour mood was starting to dissipate, even if just a little. 

Thinking that was the last of the riders, you begin walking again, but the sound of heavy hooves striking the ground halt your movements. Turning your head back to the trees, you see something moving behind the shrubbery, and then enters none other than the man of the hour: Neteyam. If the people weren’t cheering before, they were definitely cheering now—especially since he’d managed to catch an adult sturmbeest (which was a difficult feat). 

The direhorse strides slowly through the crowd, and stops in the centre on Neteyam’s command. Nobody can take their eyes off of him, and neither can you. He just looks so strong, and masculine—like his father, even though he’s the spitting image of his mother. Neteyam puts his hand into the air before he dismounts his horse and ushers the people to settle down, and eventually, they do. 

He points to the sturmbeest that his direhorse is carrying back to be prepared. “Tonight, my brothers and sisters…” a pause, “we dance! we sing! we feast!” His words excite the villagers again, uluations so loud that your ears begin to ring. Just as you’re about to turn away, his eyes meet yours—he smiles. And there it is. That achy feeling in your chest. 

He wants to say something, reaches his arm out to you as if he were silently telling you to wait up, but then a girl strikes up a conversation with him. At first, you’re not entirely sure who it is—and you shouldn’t even care—but then you do a double take and your heart sinks a little more. It was Tsimandi, the girl rumored to be his betrothed. 

From this distance, you can’t hear what they’re talking about, so you watch intently. He’s got his head thrown back in hearty laughter, and she’s touching him—actually touching him, her hands wrapped around his forearm in an attempt to pull him further away. 

You think if you stay a second longer you’ll actually become a pile of liquid where you stand, so you take this opportunity to slip away while he’s preoccupied. 

When Neteyam looks back, he notices your absence. Squinting, he looks around in search of you, and then he sees what looks like a person disappearing into the thick of the forest. Just what is she doing?

“I apologize, Tsimandi, but I must do something,” he begins backing away, a genuine expression etched onto his face, “I will see you tonight, at the feast!” 

“Oh, o-okay,” she mutters but he’s already run off. Neteyam calls for his direhorse and waits at the edge of the forest until it comes running towards him. Before he can mount it and follow you, someone calls out to him. 

“And where are you going?” the voice queries, tone laced with suspicion. He recognizes who it belongs to and sighs. 

“Nowhere, sir,” he dismounts, meeting his father’s eyes, his mother also accompanying him. 

“Yeah, I’d hope so. The people are throwing this feast for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake gives him a once over, eyes still boring into his son. 

“No, sir. I have not forgotten,” the boy lowers his gaze in embarrassment. 

“Good. Go get ready, knucklehead.”

With each trudge through the forest, you were losing more and more sunlight. You’d walked about halfway to your destination when you remembered the bottle sloshing around in your satchel. 

Usually, you waited to drink the liquid there, but you decided given today’s strenuous events, you’d have some now. A reward, you tell yourself. Taking the bottle out of the bag, you lift your mask from your face briefly, twisting open the top and taking a big swig. 

No matter how many times you did it, the taste always made you gag. Bourbon—is what they called it. It was equal parts bitter and pungent but it did the trick. Helped you to relax, to forget. The first time you came across it, it was by pure accident. 

You’d been somewhere you shouldn’t have been, doing things you shouldn’t have been doing. But one thing led to another, and soon enough, you were inebriated for the first time. 

By the time you drink half of your weight in liquor, you reach your destination. The old shack. After what happened with the Sky People, Jake’s first rule as olo’eyktan was to prohibit anyone from entering. 

Even being somewhere remotely around the area was forbidden. But you were no stranger to disobedience, you’d come here once with Lo’ak (which was your first time actually). 

Though, you didn’t get to explore much because Tuk had spoiled your fun by telling Jake. That day was one of your favorite memories, you think. Jake couldn’t stop yelling at the two of you, but all you could do was laugh. Nothing was really even funny, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing Jake’s eye twitch at your outburst only exacerbated it. 

Lo’ak was getting the worst of it, and Neteyam fell victim to Jake’s nagging too for not ‘being there’. After a while, he’d dismissed the bunch of you from his tent and as soon as you were out of earshot, the three of you went into a frenzy of laughter. You think back fondly on those memories, all the ones that include Neteyam, that is. 

“God, there isn’t a second when I’m not thinking of you…” you sigh in exhaustion, extending an arm out to open the shack’s door. Reaching in your satchel, you pull out two jars full of glow worms (you’ve found that two jars are enough to light up the shack). Ambling over to your favorite spot, you open a cabinet and reach for another bottle of that bitter liquid you willingly put into your body. 

It’s still a wonder to you how well preserved these bottles remained over the years, and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard Norm or someone mention that the older the liquor, the better it tastes (which was a lie, but alas, you down another shot). 

“Wooo,” a cough erupts from your throat, “yep, still nasty.” 

At this point, the liquor is starting to take effect. Warmth radiates throughout your entire body, and you can feel your limbs gradually getting heavier. Being drunk had to be one of your top three favorite feelings. 

It either made you: sad, tired, or giggly (maybe even all at once). But now? Now you were feeling sleepy, so you groggily trudge over to one of the beds in the shack. 

As soon as your body hits the plush, a cloud of dust filters through the air. It was incredibly disgusting, but you’d slept in worse places. For now, you would lay here…succumbing to a sweet slumber. 

Neteyam had gone home without fuss as promised. Go and get ready. Well, he was doing exactly that now, exchanging his previous attire for that of something more formal. He rolled his eyes and huffed. Sometimes his father could just be a…

“Son of a bitch,” the boy snapped, his frustration reaching its peak. He’d been standing in the tent for about 10 minutes trying to figure out this headpiece his mother had laid out for him, but could not for the life of him figure it out. 

Giving up, he throws it to the ground and takes a seat with his head in his hands. Kiri slips in shortly after his outburst, bending to the ground to retrieve the item. Hesitantly, she walks over to her brother. 

“If you needed some help, you could have called, brother.” Neteyam lifts his head up from his hands to see Kiri towering over him, his eyes breaking contact with hers as she sits down next to him. There’s a pregnant pause, but it doesn’t last for long because Kiri is already opening her mouth to speak.

“What is troubling you?” She asks, forcing Neteyam to turn his back to her so that she can place the headpiece onto him properly. He inhales deeply, then exhales.

“I do not know…I saw (your name) earlier and…” Kiri hums, encouraging him to continue, “and—she had this strange look on her face.” 

“Look? What do you mean? Was she angry? Sad?” 

“I have never seen it before, sister. She usually looks happy when she sees me…but this look was different,” his voice is almost inaudible when he finishes. Kiri ponders for a bit, tilting her head as if she were mentally putting the puzzle pieces together. 

“How come you did not speak to her?” Kiri makes her final adjustments to the headpiece, ushering Neteyam to meet her eyes. 

“I was going to…I tried to, but Tsimandi found me before I could,” he fiddles with his fingers. Kiri takes note of his disposition, and she frowns empathetically. Clearly, whatever was going on with you two was something you had to work out together. This wasn’t like either of you! 

“But it was not just today either,” he continues, “she has been distancing herself for awhile, have you noticed?” She laughs at this, nodding her head.

“Yes, she has been acting a little strange lately. I think I might know what is troubling her, brother,” the girl takes his hand into her own. “But I cannot tell you. This is something that concerns only she and you…”

Neteyam squints his eyes in confusion, muttering a ‘what’. His mouth opens to speak but he is swiftly interrupted upon Jake and Neytiri’s arrival. He looks to Kiri for some clarification but all she says is: ‘go, go, you have a feast to attend’, followed with a, ‘find her later’.

“Well? Come on, the people won’t wait for your blue ass all day will they?” Jake teases. Neytiri slaps his arm, scolding him playfully. 

“Ah, my son, my beautiful son,” she pads to where he stands, taking his face into her hands. “It is time to go, we must celebrate you.”

Jake nods, flashing a quick wink of approval. Together, they all walk out of the tent and through the village where they’re instantly greeted with colorful luminescence, loud music, and food. All things that have been so generously prepared for him. By the time they make it down to the Tree of Souls, everyone halts their cheering to hear what Jake has to say.

“Tonight we eat,” a pause, “in honor of Neteyam’s mighty victory!” Jake grabs his eldest son’s hand, raising it in the air. “He led his first attack against the Sky People and made it back without any casualties!” A sudden roar of praise erupts from the crowd. 

Everyone is chanting his name, and clapping, but even amidst all this praise, he can’t help but to think about you. What does all of this matter if you’re not here to celebrate with him? 

You’ve been by his side since the two of you could walk, so where are you now? The thought saddens him, but he can’t wear his heart on his sleeve tonight. Not when there’s so many people here just for him. 

“For the past 20 years, my son has always been just a boy to me. But now I realize…he is a man—and he has proven himself in front of the eyes of Eywa,” The former marine glances down at his son, eyeing him in admiration. “Enough talking, let us feast!”

Laughter and songs fill the warm, breezy nighttime air. It’s been about two hours since the celebration commenced, and Neteyam has just about made his rounds to every important family. 

He smiles warmly as he looks at the scene in front of him: children playing and dancing by the fireside, putting on elaborate performances for the adults still filling their bellies full of food. Everyone is lively—happy, a testament to tonight’s success. 

Mo’at is pleased by this especially, she tells him that ‘this is what the people needed’—you know, to boost morale. At some point, when nobody is watching, he slips away from the party to walk around. Unbeknownst to him, someone has seen him. 

“Getting tired?” a voice questions from the shadows. Out comes Kiri, revealing herself from behind a leaf. 

“Yes, exhausted actually,” he jokes, disconnecting his braid from his direhorse. “No, but I need to find (your name). She has not come back and it is dark.”

“I figured you would leave early, that’s why I covered your ass and told Dad you were not feeling well,” the feline-like girl smirks. 

“Do you have an idea where she might be?” 

Kiri takes a moment before answering, “I’m not sure…but for some reason, I have a hunch that she’s at the old shack,” Neteyam furrows his brows in confusion. 

“Why do you think she’s there?” he queries, “I mean, it is forbidden.” Kiri offers him a shrug.

“I don’t know but if you’re going to find her, do it now while dad still thinks you’re not feeling well.”

With that, he thanks her for the intel and mounts his horse, disappearing into the thick of the forest. On the way there, his mind conjures up just about every possible scenario that might explain your absence. 

Were you upset with him? Did he do something or say something that you didn’t like? He wishes he could just read your thoughts because right now, his heart is pounding so rapidly within the confines of his chest, that he thinks it’ll explode. 

This wasn’t like you two, everything was always so easygoing. Being with you was easy, like breathing. But this? His heart couldn’t handle this. Yeah, there’s been some distance between the two of you recently but not due to his own volition—it was duty. If he could spend every second of his life by your side, just being kids, laughing with you, playing with you, he would. 

He’s trying to recount these last few days, weeks—months. Trying to pinpoint when exactly things got like this between you…pinpoint when you stopped smiling at him with that smile that made his head all fuzzy, and his heart race like a kid running for the first time. 

“Ah, everything’s going to shit, buddy,” he sighs, rubbing the side of his horse, “I don’t know what is wrong.” His mammalian companion grunts empathetically, stopping in its tracks at the edge of the forest when it sees the abandoned link shack. Neteyam doesn’t bother scolding her, because even the animals know that this place is forbidden. 

“Alright, I will see you later, okay? Stay here,” he pats her, disconnecting the bond. From this distance, he can see that there seems to be some sort of light illuminating from inside the shack. 

That alone already confirms Kiri’s hunch. The closer he gets, the more his stomach feels uneasy. He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but he attempts to ease his mind (and body) by telling himself that it’s only you. He’s talked to you one on one hundreds of times, so what’s the difference now?

Noises in the distance rouse you from your ephemeral repose. When you stand up, your head spins with the room, causing you to instinctively reach out for the nearest surface available. Whatever was outside had better be non-threatening, because you were not in the condition to be fighting—let alone standing. When you were drunk like this, you couldn’t even hurt a fly. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna have the worst headache soon,” you huff quietly, still aware that there might be someone or something outside. The noise is getting closer, and you’re running out of time to find a hiding spot. 

Quickly, you grab the closest thing you can to defend yourself (which is literally a jar of glow worms), and crouch down below the window. When you lift your head just enough to see outside, the makings of a silhouette cloud your vision. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whisper-yell, tightening your hold on the jar. Lifting your head up again, you notice that the figure is not in the spot it was previously. Then, the knob to the shack twists, and now it’s opening, and—

“(Your name)?” 

You pause your attack, slowly dropping your hand (that’s holding the jar) to your side. A flood of relief washes over you once you register who the voice belongs to. Rising from the ground, you open the door fully to see Neteyam standing in the doorway. 

“I almost killed you, you know!” you raise the jar, pulling him inside of the shack. 

“I think it would take more than a jar of worms to kill me,” he teases. Rolling your eyes, you continue ushering him further inside, leading him to an area where you can sit and talk. 

“What…what are you doing here?” you finally ask, folding your arms across your chest. Neteyam towers over you from this height, so he accommodates you by dropping to his haunches. 

“I was worried about you,” the boy confesses, “what are you doing here? Why were you not at the feast?” Suddenly, you don’t really feel like talking anymore. Even though the adrenaline from before was still pumping through your veins, so was the alcohol in your system. You’re not so sure you’d be able to keep your composure long enough to answer without exposing your truest feelings. So, you decide on deflecting. 

“Aren’t you the man of the hour? I think you should go back to the party before daddy throws a fit. We both know how he gets when his perfect little son isn’t at his every beck and call…” As soon as the words spill from your tongue, you wince. It came out meaner than you meant, and the last thing you wanted was to give him shit for being a caring friend. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that,” you apologize, sitting down on the bed. All he does is sigh, but he takes this opportunity to enter your space, gets all close until his body is nestled between your legs. 

“I know…I know, but I want you to tell me what’s wrong, hm?” his fingers lift your chin, “so I can fix it.” 

“Can’t fix this, ‘Teyam,” a saltine droplet ribbons down your face. Your head is tilted up with his fingers, but you can’t even force yourself to meet his gaze. God, how pathetic did you look right now? 

Here you were, inside an abandoned shack, drinking your body weight in liquor…all while a celebration was being thrown in your best friend’s honor. And for what? Because you were jealous? Because you liked him—loved him? 

You knew that eventually your relationship would shift. That he’d take on his duties as the future olo’eyktan, and you’d just be his human friend he hangs with from time to time. How stupid could you be to think things would stay like this forever?

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, both hands now cupping your cheeks, “don’t do that. Do not shut me out. We’re not like this, (your name), you used to always talk to me about things.”

Things. You’d talk about things. But those things were not like these things. And if he knew what things you were thinking about, the things that involved him…then you two would never talk about things again. 

You’re curious, though. What if you just told him? Just told him about all the days you’ve loved him, all the nights you’ve stayed up thinking of him—all the stars you counted wishing for him? At least then, the burden of keeping such a secret would stop weighing so heavy on your heart. 

“I..” a breath, “I heard a rumor.” The boy hums, encouraging you to continue. “I heard your mother has chosen her successor.”

“Is that what this is about? Why does this bother you?”

“Because you know what this means! We both know what this means, don’t be dense, ’Teyam,” you droop your head in sorrow, coaxing him to just lift it back up. Only this time, his hold on your face is a lot firmer. His eyes are fiercer.

“No. I don’t, so just tell me.”

“You’re gonna be the future olo’eyktan, and we both know that the future clan leader and the chosen tsahik are to be betrothed,” you start, “there will be no time for me! No more late night talks, no more exploring, no more secret whispers…I mean, I get it, you have duties to fulfill but…I wanna be selfish a little longer. Can’t I be selfish a little longer?”

You say the last line while meeting his gaze. You’re teary eyed and shaking, but you try your best to keep any semblance of composure you have left intact (though, it’s failing). His expression is indiscernible. 

It makes you nervous. Sick. And now you’re forcing yourself not to throw up because…the realization that you just told someone your deepest, truest, most vulnerable feelings makes you physically ill. 

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. Forget what I jus—“

“Are you serious? You don’t get it do you?” Neteyam’s head falls forward, a little chuckle slipping past his lips. His hands leave your head and slither down to your hands. He takes them into his own, eyeing you while kissing the knuckles of each. 

The act is incredibly intimate, sends white-hot electricity down the column of your spine. Renders you speechless. All you can do is sit there, too scared that if you move or speak, you’ll shatter into a million little pieces. 

“I have duties, yes…but my heart is already spoken for. Always has been.” 

“What are you saying, ’Teyam,” your head snuggles into the warmth of his hand. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you want to hear him say—

“I see you,” he whispers in your ear, “you are my most beloved.” The warmth of his breath tingles the shell of your ear, it takes the strength of a thousand men to not scream. 

But in this moment? In this moment you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him silly, actually, but you quickly remember the thing on your face preventing your lips from connecting with his. There are truly evil forces conspiring against you.

“I want to kiss you,” you admit solemnly. 

“Oh, you don’t know how many nights I’ve spent dreaming about kissing you. Too many,” he jokes, “but I’m afraid if we remove this, you’ll die.” 

“Then you don’t have to kiss my lips,” a silence, “you can kiss me anywhere you’d like. Anywhere.” 

His green eyes flitter between your face and your body, and then his hands are on you, forcing you to lay back against the bed. You lift your head up and lean back onto your elbows, watching through lust-filled eyes as he begins his ministrations. 

He starts from the bottom, works his way up real slowly—too slowly. He’s showing restraint, and while you appreciate the fact that he’s worshiping your body like a devoted follower worships their deity, you want him to ravage you. To eat you up until there’s nothing left but bones. 

“’Teyam, please…” you breathe out impatiently. Like the cocky-brat he is, he ignores your pleas, only laughing into your skin. 

“Shh, be calm.” The plush of his lips trail up the plains and pastures of your body, up your calves, your thighs (he spends the most time there), and then comes to a stop at the crest of your breasts. His fingers fiddle with the cloth covering your chest, lightly tracing the edges that rest just beneath your mounds. 

A tease is what he is. And you didn’t have the time for a tease, so you figured you’d help speed up the process by removing it. Sitting up, you untie the makeshift top and let it fall to your lap, smirking deviously as if you’ve done something so naughty. 

“Thought I’d help you,” you grin, wrapping your hands around his neck, “Please, no more going slow…I think we’ve been going slow for twenty years, don’t you think?” 

And he gets the hint, once again resuming his assault on your body, but this time with more fervor. More urgency. He’s kissing you everywhere, licking wet stripes over your chest, and leaving love bites in the places where he’s kissed you. Right now he’s acting on his most basic, primal instincts—he’s claiming you as his mate—in the only way he knows how to. 

The feeling of his hands on your neck, back, thighs and waist send you into oblivion. But then his hands are creeping up to your tits, deft fingers twisting and kneading, and oh god, you’re seeing stars. The addition of his mouth doesn’t help either.

“You’re so,” a kiss, “beautiful,” a suck, “perfect.” Neteyam kneads one breast while his mouth works on another. He plops down onto a pert nipple, using his tongue to draw circles around the area, his saliva acting as a salve. 

A moan (that comes out more like a disgruntled sigh) vacates your throat, and his eyes widen in excitement. The sight of his tail swaying in the background makes you giggle. Cute, you think. 

Even though what the two of you were doing wasn’t innocent, you couldn’t help but to feel all giddy. Reaching a hand out, you place a gentle palm on the side of his face. 

You trace the contours of his nose, his cheekbones, smooth over his jaw, and then stop at his lips. Your thumb grazes them, first the top, then the bottom—learning. Committing them to memory, how they look, feel, and move under your thumb. 

Neteyam is unmoving while you continue to run your finger across his lips—save for his hand, which slowly begins traveling south to your thighs. Experimentally, you push your thumb inside of his mouth, pressing the digit down on his tongue before tracing his cat-like canines. This moment is particularly special, because now it’s you who’s doing the admiring. 

The free hand that’s not inching towards your core, skillfully removes the loin cloth around your hips. Immediately, he’s met with your bare sex. It’s smooth—wet, so incredibly wet that it has his cock twitching, and his hands eager to touch you. He wants to taste you. Feel you, all of you. 

“I—,” a slender finger rubs your slit, “mmf, see you,” you mewl, cupping his cheek. Neteyam’s eyes widen, he wants to hear you make that sound again…and again, and again, and—

The boy repeats the action. Watches your abs flex and tremble from the touch, and your thighs close in on his arm. Using the other hand, he gently pulls them apart and leaves three open-mouthed kisses: one on your inner thigh, one on another, and then a final one at the top of your mound. The heat from his nostrils make you full body shiver; suddenly, being the only one completely bare is slightly bothering you. 

“Do not cover yourself. I want to see you,” his hand finds your cunt again, a long finger pushing into you ever so slowly, “…want to hear those sweet sounds again.” 

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you watch his digit push further into you, the drag of a knuckle against your slick walls aiding in the pleasure. You can’t help but to wince at the intrusion, because shit, this was a lot more than what you were used to—using your fingers, that is. 

You also suppose penetration would be off the table considering humans and Na’vi were never meant to mate, but it doesn’t prevent you from fantasizing about it anyway. How big was it? Did he touch himself? Use his hands and picture yours? 

The thought of him hunching over, rubbing one out, all slick with sweat and pre has your head all dizzy. Your mouth is practically salivating at the mental image you’ve conjured up in your head of him fucking your face, but you know it would never fit. There really are evil forces conspiring against you…

Neteyam’s finger reaching the hilt brings you back down to reality. A forceful thrust that coaxes you to gasp sharply and grab his forearm. After patiently waiting for you to adjust to his size, he begins to move. He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly, then pushing back into you with the same velocity. 

Eventually, his movements become less hesitated, and more calculated. Instead of steady and slow, he begins increasing the pace of his thrusts, then graduates from speed to incorporating force. 

Every delve of his finger, every deliberate drag and prod has fire pooling in the depths of your belly. Squelches and whimpers ricochet off of the metal walls, and fuck, his dick won’t stop twitching. 

It’s grown considerably harder in these past few minutes, and all from just hearing you vocalize your pleasure. When the stretch stops feeling like a stretch, and starts feeling like a ‘give me more’, that’s when you encourage him to add another. And of course, he indulges you. 

The same time he pushes another finger in, is the same time he starts rubbing himself. He’s not even really aware of it at first, it’s mindless. He’s just so entranced by you, and the sounds you’re making, the things you’re saying, the way your cunt’s sucking in his fingers—

Fuck. He just finished all over himself. He doesn’t let that deter him though, keeps fingering you through his post-orgasm, taking care of you until you come undone on his fingers. 

And the sight is amazing, he can’t stop gawking at the way your hole flutters around him, and the nectar-like liquid that drips down the length of his fingers and onto the bed. He wants to taste it. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks. You’re in such a daze that the question doesn’t even register, suddenly too preoccupied with breathing like you’ve forgotten how to. 

“Huh? Wha—ohhhh.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your slit. He concentrates the tip at the bottom, lapping at the essence that leaks from there, and then circles back to your puffy bud. Experimentally, he prods it with his fingers, rubbing it in tantalizingly slow circles. 

The combination of his tongue and his fingers almost feel overwhelming, you feel like a puppet on a marionette with the way he’s maneuvering your legs around for better access. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a starved man. 

His mouth is slick with drool, and his hands are pressing down so firmly onto your thighs, that you’re sure a handprint will be there for you to discover in the morning. His tongue feels so good on you, so nasty. 

The picture is obscene, unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before. But the thing that’s really getting to you are the sounds he’s making. Grunts and groans, expletives and mumbles. ‘So good’, ‘perfect’, ‘beautiful’…it has your head spinning and your fists gripping for the sheets beneath you. 

There’s a knot in your abdomen pulled taut like a string of twine. You can feel it twisting and pulling, ready to come undone at the drop of a pin. The more he works on your slit, the more the temperature rises in the shack. 

Was the room always spinning? Did your body always run this hot? It feels like you’ve been thrown into a furnace, and the only source of coolness is the wetness that his tongue provides. 

“‘M gonna, mmf, ’s too much!” you jab at his hand in an attempt to push him away. He’s relentless though, still sucking harshly, and teasing, ramming his thick fingers up against your gummy walls. 

It feels different than when you touch yourself, more intense. Like something’s sitting heavy on your bladder. Then, snap. The string in your abdomen unravels, bringing forth a flood of ecstasy. 

“’Teyam!” you sob, back arching to the ceiling. When he pulls his fingers out, a stream of clear liquid seeps from your cunt. He’s awestruck, staring in admiration as your sweat kissed chest rises and falls rhythmically. 

“Look, your legs are shaking,” he points, biting down a laugh, “why are they shaking?” 

“Oh my god, shut up!” you feign offense, pushing him backwards with a chuckle. He pretends to be wounded, rubbing his back dramatically, ‘oohing’ and ‘owing’ as he does so. When you finally sit up, your eyes naturally fall to his loincloth, a wet ringlet contrasting starkly against the beige textile. 

“Hey…” your voice is hesitant, but teetering on the edge of curiosity, “Can I try something?” 

The boy silently nods his approval, shifting his position on the ground when you amble over to him. A look of confusion molds onto his face following the events that involve you plopping down onto his lap and laying him down. He goes to speak but you interrupt him. 

“Your turn, right? Can’t put it in, but…I can still make you feel good,” you say, tugging on the piece of fabric that separates your sex from his. Eagerly, he removes it for you and lets the item fall haphazardly to the ground. 

It’s big, so big—and pretty too. A beautiful blue hue that matches the rest of his body, paired along with a blushing teal tip that’s oozing pre. You want to know what he tastes like on your tongue…

“So pretty.”

Heat rises to his cheeks, and his tail takes an aquiline form, quivering in rapid movements. His usual, over-confident disposition was slowly dissipating under your intense gaze, and you reveled in it by mocking his bashfulness. 

“Awe, the little kitty’s shy,” you mock, tickling his side. 

“Stop it, I don’t look like those Earth things,” he laughs, pushing your hand away, but to no avail. You continue to dodge his attempts to stop you, tickling him here and there until he accidentally bucks and pulls you down against him. Embarrassingly, you let a whine fall from your lips…still too sensitive down there, you guess. 

There’s a shit-eating grin plastered on his face now, you hate it. “Who’s making noises like a kitty now, huh?” With this, he takes the liberty to do it again, pressing you down hard against his length. 

The feeling of your bare cunt against him is electrifying, probably (definitely) not better than him being inside you, but the next best thing. This was supposed to be your thanks to him. But now he’s taken full charge—maneuvering you back and forth, gripping and kneading—it’s cruel.  

For someone who’s never mated with anyone in his life, he’s sure moving you around like he has. His hands are all over you—thighs, hips, waist, breasts, it’s almost overwhelming. Every touch, addled with the buck of hips, brings forth a new sensation that is better than the last. You think this would be a good way to go out, right on his cock. One last hurrah before the morbid inevitable. 

“You f-feel so good, (your name),” his voice is breathy, “r-really good.” Neteyam’s grip on your arms is vice, partly because he can feel his climax approaching, but mostly because he can tell you’re growing tired. 

Swiftly, he changes your positions to where you’re laying on your back and he’s crouching over you. The tip of his head smoothes over your folds when he pushes up, and before he draws back, you can see just about where his dick would rest if he were inside of you. 

“I’d be all the way up here,” he presses down just beneath your breastbone, “you’re so tiny.” It sounds so dirty, but you know ultimately he’s just making an observation—regardless, the comment has your stomach churning in excitement. 

The both of you watch in fascination as he sheathes himself up and over your cunt, moaning in unison when the tip of his mushroomy head catches against your bud. Euphoric, he thinks. He never imagined that something could feel this good, let alone without connecting bonds. 

Still sensitive from earlier, it doesn’t take too long for you to reach your peak. Neteyam knows that your arrhythmic breathing is a tell-tale sign, and he helps you get there by cooing words of encouragement. 

He goes back and forth between ’I got you’s and ‘it’s okay’s, leaving trails of kisses down your body in his wake. The second you finish, you’re pulling him down onto you tight. Moaning and whining into his ear, whispering those same words of encouragement that he whispered to you prior.

“So good, ‘Teyam,” you claw at his back, “keep going, want you to feel good too.” And he does. Unrelenting in his attack against your sex, he comes with a few more pistons. 

You eagerly welcome him into your arms when he drops from exhaustion, and hold him there until your erratic breaths synchronize. The both of you are disgustingly sweaty and sticky, but even so, you feel at peace. 

You bask in the tranquil quietness of the night, just staring at each other. Soft caresses and soothing hums. Then, Neteyam speaks. 

“On this fateful night, two hearts danced…” he whispers, grabbing your hand to hold it over his heart. 

“What does this mean?” you smile at him. He ponders over it and then explains. 

“My songcord…I want to tell this story,” he starts, “the night when two hearts became one.” 

A crystal droplet cascades down your face, “that sounds beautiful.”

© arachine 2022

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ todoroki shoto x reader → ❝ice king❞

summary: the world sees shoto as a cold hero but you know that's the furthest thing from the truth. when you get hurt the world sees word count: 4k+  tags/warnings: friends to lovers, confessions, hurt/comfort, fluff, and light angst (with violence, blood mentions, injury mentions) a/n: alright that was way more than what i expected to write but i can't complain because it was fun to write.

masterlist

Shoto Todoroki is calm, cool, and collected almost always. Nothing seems to shake him even when put under extreme pressure. A good amount of public opinion believes he’s as icy as his quirk.

You aren’t one of those people. Shoto has been your friend since high school. You were quick to have a soft spot for him. His family or quirk didn’t intimidate you it was like you saw who he was from the start. He was warm and soft. He thought about others and cared for them even if he didn’t always show it through his words.

Now that you were both adults working as pro heroes you knew so even more now. Shoto had grown a lot, around his friends he would talk more and joke around. It was nice seeing him open up and enjoy life after all he had gone through with his family in his childhood.

Shoto was your best friend and even if people thought he was unshakable, you knew better. You could see it on rescue missions that were too close to losing the people in danger. How his eyebrows furrowed, the look in his heterochromatic eyes.

Shoto Todoroki while being one of the best heroes out there was just a man and he too felt the weight of the world at times.

Losing people on the job was never easy, even when it wasn’t your fault. You recall the night like it was yesterday. A fire broke out in a high-rise building. It was a bad night, heroes spread across the city busy with different disasters. It was you and Todoroki and an entire building. Considering the situation it was a miracle that more people didn’t die.

After escorting out groups and groups of people you went to help Shoto with the last few people. A young mother and her children. A heavy beam collapsed, separating her from her children. The smoke was thick and it all happened so quickly. You took the children and Shoto rushed to save her, but there was no helping it. The unstable floor fell out from below her and even as Shoto tried to do anything to keep her from falling it was useless. The building was deteriorating so quickly, the fire burning hot.

If he hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have made it out with the kids without his ice quirk.

You had kept the kids from seeing what happened but they knew when Shoto returned without her that their mother was gone. The scene outside, the kids crying as their father who had been at work returned. Having to tell him what happened. You were going to explain it when Shoto stepped in front of you telling the man what had happened to his wife.

It was devastating. Even though you had saved a building full of people it didn’t feel like enough as you watched the children cry in their father’s arms, watching him tear up trying to stay strong for his kids.

After being treated for smoke inhalation you found yourself at Shoto’s apartment. A place you were no stranger to. You were work partners and best friends. Of course, you had been here many times. For dinner, to help him when he was sick, you even had your own key for emergencies. Knocking on the door you got no reply. You knew for a fact he was home. Using your key you entered figuring this counted as an emergency.

Shoto sat on the couch with only the light of a small lamp. He had a glass of whiskey in hand. He looked drained. His head didn’t even turn as you entered.

“Shoto.” You said softly as you sat down next to him. His knuckles were white around the glass, his other hand clenched in a fist. You took his hand into yours, brushing your thumb over his cold skin. “You did everything you could, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Does it change the fact those kids have no mother now?” He said his voice was low. His voice was raw, hurting. You could hear the pain in it.

“No.” You said. “No, it doesn’t. At the end of the day doing our best with no mistakes sometimes still means that we lose people. We can’t save everyone and that’s the worst thing about being a hero. It’s not fair but it’s not your fault.”

His hand started to relax from a fist, he was still tense but it was a good start. “12, 323 people lived in that building, and 8,578 people were in the building when the fire started. All those people and we only lost one.” You said looking at him but his gaze was still on the wall. “If we were less prepared, if we didn’t work together well any other two heroes would have lost more than one person. I can guarantee it. The agency is in disbelief we saved so many being short-handed.”

“Does it stop the image of those children crying in their father's arms while he tries to hold it together?” You asked. “No, it doesn’t it never will. But we have to focus on the good and not only the bad. We’re only hurting ourselves if we don’t. How many families are together tonight because we saved them? How many couples reunited, grandparents that got out safely so they can see their family again? Lives saved, lives that get to spend another day doing whatever they want to because we saved them. There’s so much good.”

You pulled out your phone and open a social media app. “Look,” You said holding it up. A hashtag was trending thanking you both for saving people in that building. “Thank you for saving my sister, her family lives in that building. Thank you for saving my niece and her husband. Thank you for saving me and my parents.” You read some of them out.

“It doesn’t bring her back. It doesn’t change the grief that family carries now and always will but it gives us the whole picture.” You said.

Shoto’s gaze moved to you and you could see as a tear slipped from his eyes. Without a word you embraced him, holding him as he cried quietly against your shoulder. “Thank you,” He mumbled against you. You hummed in reply as you rubbed his back.

No, Shoto was not a uncaring man. He felt grief all too well.

Shoto was no stranger to anxiety either.

Doing publicity was never enjoyed by either of you but it was part of the job.

The good thing about Shoto being the head of his own hero agency meant that you could control the schedule. Rather than doing media throughout the year, you both plotted a way to get it over with.

Twice a year you did what you coined the ‘Biannual Media Marathon’. Was it horrible? Yes. Did you make it a silly event, of course? Have you made mugs and shirts to commemorate? Yeah.

The media marathon consisted of a full day, usually from six am to eight or nine pm of filming media, photo shoots, and interviews.

Was it an improvement? Probably not but it meant you didn’t have to do it any other day of the year and that was the way you and Shoto preferred it.

The morning would start with hair and makeup then you went to the local news stations to do interviews and even did satellite interviews. After you filmed videos for ads that would run through the year or other PSAs. Then the photo shoots. The hair, makeup, and outfit changes were like torture.

By the end of the day, you felt dead. Not only were you exhausted but your skin felt raw and your head hurt from people pulling at your hair.

The finale was late-night talk show interviews. Shoto had a much better poker face when it came to how over it he was. As the two of you sat in the green room you looked over at Shoto, who looked handsome in a trendy suit with his hair pushed back loosely. But the way his shoulders were slumped and a look in his eyes told you he was at the end of his rope.

Funny how two heroes who constantly trained to keep their stamina up for fights and rescues could be so defeated by a day of socializing and posing.

“Sho,” You said softly. “You good?”

His eyes snapped to you. “I’m exhausted.”

You gave him a soft look before moving to sit next to him. “Rest your eyes, I’ll wake you up when they’re ready for us.” You said.

He started at you for a moment before resting his head against your shoulder. After a moment you heard light snoring from him. You smiled.

Just like that with his eyes closed as he snored against you he looked at peace. The weight of his exhaustion was gone just like that.

Even Shoto Todoroki got tired. You were no stranger to it.

The world was a stranger to the feelings Shoto went through until today.

A battle against a dangerous villain was not an unusual thing for you two to face together. Generally, it was something you dealt with quickly. After working together for so long it was like second nature when you fought together.

All eyes were on the scene, news helicopters flying overhead as onlookers filmed on their phones.

It was clear from the start this wasn’t going to be an easy battle to win. Exchanging blows with the villain, fire, and ice rushing past you.

Exhaustion was starting to wear you down, the villain was trying to wear you both down so you got sloppy, so he’d have an opening. It worked.

Your vision goes black for a moment as you are launched back. When it returns you're on the ground, everything hurts, and the breath is knocked out of you.

A wall of ice covers you, Shoto is in front of you. There’s this look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. It’s distant and present at the same time. His eyes lock onto your stomach, you follow his gaze as his hand gently touches the blood that’s gathering there.

The blood drains from your face as you realize the wound is deep. You feel numb and you know that’s not a good sign.

“Shoto, you have to cauterize it.” You know it’s the last thing he would ever want to do, hurt you with his fire but if he doesn’t-

There are only moments before the villain turns on civilians. Only moments before you lose too much blood and your chances of surviving this get worse. In a second you both realize this is the only option. You take his left hand and place it on the wound.

It’s going to hurt, you know it will but if he doesn’t you could die. You will die.

With a look you nod at him, encouraging him. You know every fiber of him is against this but you also have known him long enough to know he’s come to the same conclusion as you have. It has to happen.

His right-hand brushes against your cheek, brushing away tears you didn’t know were there before stopping at your hand. Holding your hand with his right, he nods as he covers your wound with his left.

The scream you let out is deafening. You had wanted to hold it in, the last thing you wanted was to make Shoto feel worse but in this kind of pain, you had no control. It was quick, a flash of heat but the pain lingered.

“You’re okay,” Shoto’s voice cuts through the ringing in your head. His hands trying to comfort you in any way possible. “You’re okay.”

Shoto watches as you clutch at the burn, the blood still covering you, pooling around you. Your costume is torn and there’s a nasty bruise already starting on your face. He can tell you’re out of it, the pain overwhelming. He’s never seen you this hurt, he’s never seen you so out of it, so vulnerable.

Something in Shoto wells up, his face feels hot, and his head is swimming. There’s a rage in him he has never felt, he’s been angry before but this is different. He finally understands what people mean when they say they’re ‘seeing red’.

You watch as Shoto turns, a flash of red, and the ice wall he put up to protect you both is evaporated. His steps are slow as he approaches the villain. Any attacks launched at him are easily deflected by the flames roaring around him. A trail of ice followed him.

The only way you can describe the scene in front of you is feral. Shoto takes the villain down like it’s nothing. But he doesn’t stop there. He’s on top of the villain wailing on him. You can’t see from where you are but you're sure the villain is bloody.

Deku arrives on the scene and is quick to his friend’s side, pulling him off the villain and trying to get Shoto to return from wherever he is right now.

Kirishima is at your side, his always reassuring smile on his face as he picks you up. “Let’s get you to a doctor.”

Cauterizing the wound was the right choice, the doctor informs you as you lay in a hospital bed cleaned and bandaged.

“If he hadn’t you would have lost a lot of blood by the time you go help.” The doctor explained. “The scar will be worse but much better than chancing death. Your friend saved your life.”

Other than a lot of painful bruises and scratches your wounds are minimal. No head injuries either which is always great. Just bed rest for at least a week to let things heal up.

Shoto enters your room as soon as the doctor is done with you. Whatever state he was in earlier is still lingering around him.

His eyes on you are intent, looking you over as if to make sure you were really okay.

“Sho,” You said softly mustering up your best smile despite the exhaustion you felt and the pain medicine making you feel a bit lightheaded. “My hero,” You tease playfully.

Normally when you try and lighten the mood he follows but this time it doesn’t work. He lets out a heavy breath. You aren’t exactly sure what is bothering him. Of course, he just finished a rough battle and had to cauterize your wound but you weren’t sure of the specific problem.

“The doctors said you saved my life,” You said. “If you hadn’t I would have bled out too much by the time I got here.”

Shoto sits down in the chair beside your bed. He still looks so tense. So upset. His silence usually doesn’t bother you but right now you feel like something is wrong but you don’t know how to help it.

“I’m sorry-” You said, your voice a bit smaller now. “I know that must have been awful for you- to have to use your fire like that. I never would have asked but-”

“I’m not upset about cauterizing your wound.” He interrupts. “I know it was the only way to save you, I’m sorry it had to be done but the last thing you should be is worried about my feelings when you’re dying.”

“Oh,” You said. Now you were more unsure what he was upset about. “You still seem really upset, what’s wrong?”

“Seeing you hurt like that…” It sounds like he’s going to save more but he stops.

“Being hurt is part of the job,” You said, your tone light. Despite facing your own death not long ago you aren’t as bothered about it for some reason. Perhaps it’s easier to joke than face your own fears. “Besides, if I was gone you’d get a new work partner. I’m sure you’re tired of me at this point.” You tease.

Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say. His eyes snap to you and you see anger fill them. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” You probably shouldn’t push but you aren’t in the best place to be making choices right now.

Shoto stands up, his chair sliding back loudly. You blink as he paces the hospital room.

“You don’t get it!” He shouted, his anger wasn’t directed towards you but rather out of his frustration. “I lost it out there. I’ve never felt like that. Like I couldn’t control my own body. I’ve never beaten a villain until I couldn’t recognize them.” His chest heaved, emotions running through him. “Closing that wound- that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Hurting you like that-” His eyes were glassy, his voice caught in his throat. “But I knew it was the only way to save you.”

“I’m not upset because my coworker got hurt! Or even my best friend! I’m upset because I almost lost the love of my life and I never even told you!” A silence falls over the room like he’s surprised by his own words.

“What?” You stare at your best friend in shock.

“I love you.” This time his words are sure, his breathing evens. “I love you, I’ve loved you since we were in high school. You light up every day even when they’re really bad ones. You make even the most mundane or annoying things fun. You’re strong and your kind and you’re my everything.”

Shoto loves you?

Of course, you were close, of course, you worked together, and spent your free time together. And well you were close with his family and always attended events together. There wasn’t a part of your life that Shoto wasn’t in. How often did you go over to his place and make him dinner? How often did he bring you your favorite snacks and drinks during patrol? Was there ever really a moment that you weren’t with him or thinking about him?

Oh.

You loved Shoto.

Dating was always something you avoided. Going on awkward first dates. Trying to get to know someone. Figuring out if they were worth dating. It just was unappealing to you. You had always thought you didn’t have time for a romantic partner because of work but the truth was you thought that you already spent most of your time with Shoto. When would you have time with someone else?

Now you realize it was because Shoto already took the space in your life for a romantic partner. You never yearned for someone because you already had your person. You already had the person you wanted to share everything with.

You just hadn’t realized that was the case.

“I understand you don’t feel the same way, and I’m sorry if this makes things awkward.” He said. “I just can’t move forward without telling you. Not after I almost lost you.”

“Sho,” You said softly. “Come here.”

Shoto looks confused but he moves closer, you take his hand in yours as he sits on the bed facing you.

“I have to admit-” You said with a small smile. “I’m an idiot.”

“What do you mean?” He asked looking confused.

“I always thought that I didn’t need a boyfriend, I always wondered why so many people felt the need to find someone to occupy that space in their life.” You said. “But now I realize that it’s because I’ve had you. You’re with me at work, with me in my free time. We eat meals together, we go shopping together. I mean I go to your family dinners.” You laughed. “This whole time I had you.”

Your gaze is on him, it feels like you're seeing him for the first time. This man, he’s not just your friend- he’s your everything. And for the first time in your life, you have this all-consuming urge to kiss him.

“I love you, Shoto.” You said. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time I was just too blind to see it.”

Shoto smiles at you and it’s blinding. You’ve never seen him so happy before. You move forward to be closer to him but you let out a hiss of pain. His expression turns into concern as he presses you back so you won’t hurt yourself.

“Can you come closer,” You said leaning back against your bed.

Shoto leans closer to you. It’s funny you’ve been this close to him before but it feels different now. It feels electric. “Is this better?”

“It is but-” You said raising your hand up to his cheek, gently brushing against his scar. “It’d be better if you kiss me.”

Shoto blushes but it doesn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and leaning forward. His lips are soft against yours, eyes closed as his lips move against yours.

Your other hand moves to his neck and you can feel how fast his heart is beating.

He pulls back as you take a deep breath. It seems he can’t keep a smile off his face, it makes you smile despite the pain.

“I can’t believe I almost lost you.” He said. “I was so scared.”

There’s something about the rawness of his tone, it stirs up everything you kept down about this day. You almost died. You would have never had this realization that has changed your life course. You would have left Shoto heartbroken.

Tears well up in your eyes as you start to cry. Shoto is quick to comfort you. He pulls you close, holding you as you let it out. “It’s okay, you’re safe with me.” He coos into your ear. “You’ll always be safe with me.”

Once you calm down he slips into the bed with you, promising to stay with you overnight. You’re sure after his display today no one is going to tell him no.

Laying in the bed, his arm comfortably wrapped around you as you rest on his shoulder. You watch TV.

“Today a villain attack in the heart of downtown caused quite a stir.” The newswoman said. “When things started to look bad we saw top hero Shoto put on quite a display as he defeated the villain.”

The footage is even more crazy from the view from above. The flames around Shoto as the ice went haywire.

The footage jumps to an interview with a ‘hero expert’. “People consider Shoto to be a pretty stoic hero but today we saw an intense scene after his hero partner got injured badly.” They said. “It just goes to show how much more power we can see from these heroes when push comes to shove.”

You looked up at Shoto as he watched the TV. “I guess people won’t think of you as such an icy hero anymore.” You tease.

“I’m not icy.” He said.

“I know that.” You hummed, grabbing his hand in yours. “I think you are quite warm. Cozy even.” You smiled. He looked down at you with a heart-stopping smile. He looked at you with such endearment. “You’re just quiet but people don’t see the whole picture.”

“Like you do?”

“Yeah,” You smiled. “Shoto you’re kind and caring. You’re not this wall of ice that doesn’t falter. I’ve seen you take losses and I’ve seen you exhausted. You’re not this one note of a personality you’re so- so amazing and unique. There’s so much to you and they don’t even see a fraction of it.”

You lean up to press a kiss against his lips. “But I get to see it and I think that’s the greatest honor I’ve ever had.”

Shoto smiles at you as his had rests on your cheek as he pulls you in for another kiss. “You’re my heart.” He said. “You’re my everything.”

“I’m sorry I took so long to see it.” You said.

“It’s okay because this is just the beginning.” He smiled.

After cleaning up the mess that the battle made downtown and making sure the villain was squared away, Kirishima and Midoriya went to check to see how you were doing.

As they opened the door to your hospital room they saw Shoto in your bed, your head on his chest as his arms were wrapped around you protectively. Both of you were fast asleep. The two heroes smiled.

"Took them long enough," Midoriya said quietly as Kirishima laughed.

[blue-sterling0357]

how about some ciel headcanons with a demon s/o? not with angst, like s/o is a young chaos demon that just squeezed themselves on the contract so s/o helps ciel with his work and so.

🐈‍⬛ anon

(I remember a very similar thing of demon! Ciel with a albino! demon! S/O, it's quite cute, but I'm not adding it here! Hope you enjoy reading this!)

Ciel with a Demon! S/O

✣ You met Ciel, when Sebastian introduced you both to each other. Sebastian was an elder demon who used to follow you since he met you because he had this instinct to follow you, no matter what you do and he was right as you being a chaos demon happens to be quite harming to his contracts...

✣ Whenever you would get even a hundred mile near the person he has a contract with, they would get in some type of wierd situation, but he enjoys your company even though he hates all demons, except you as you're quite helpful and you knew how to protect his masters and wouldn't be salavting over his master's soul, like he though you would.

✣ So, upon his introducing you, Ciel took you in as one of his maids and upon taking you in, he noticed the immediate change it had on the manor, the trio would cause less problems for him, Sebastian's cats aren't shoing up as often, the place is often clean and Elizabeth ins't decorating it in embarrasing yet cute decor he hates so much.

✣ As he slowly developed feelings and you both started dating, he got to learn about you being a chaos demon, he learnt how Sebastian would protect him from you accidentally bringing chaos everywhere you go, but he doesn't care as you bringing chaos isn't going to change his loves for you.

✣ He is actually quite happy you're a demon, it's because he knows you won't die and it definitely won't be easy to kill, with Sebastian polishing your skills and helping you and though you're younger and around Ciel's age in demon years, you're a fast learner, except sometimes in battles you zone out, but are still fighting and dodging your enemy amazingly except you're staring into nothing...It concerns both Ciel and Sebastian as is this even normal?

✣ Ciel now has another protector, also since you eat the souls of certain people who try to attack Ciel and have a tasty soul, you're rather full and have no need of eating Ciel's soul. If it's Sebastian who kills the perpetrator, he will bring those souls to you, but only if they are high quality souls, he refuses to have his child/sibling/problem child figure have low quality and disgusting souls..

✣ Ciel allows you wayyyy more freedom than he allows Sebastian, like you have brought in three, white tigers in the manor, and Ciel didn't even care, he was also wearing a mask, did those even exist back then? But anyways, Seb is jealous at the amount of freedom you have, except it goes away when you invite him to cuddle with those three, adult, white tigers.

✣ Also, you're just as talented in things as Sebastian despite being at such a young age like you already know 21 languages, can manipulate anyone you want, great st using multiple weapons at the same time, fighting and dodging while drinking a smoothie or eating a cake at the same time. And even though Sebastian says it's because of him, Ciel doesn't believe him because he believes you're just amazing like that!

✣ If you're happy with showing him your horns and wings on occasions, he would love to groom them, clean them, wash them and polish them nicely for you and he does it so often, he knows everything about demon self-care, you'd look all shiny and whenever you and Sebastian show each-other your wings and horns, he's surprised at how clean they are, despite knowing how you don't clean regularly...

✣ Oh, speaking of wings, he loves to cuddle you and sleep with you while you have your wings out, he gets all whiny and upset if you refuse to show them to him when you go to sleep because they're dirty or smell or whatever because you know he will drag you to clean them no matter how late at night it is, cause he now can't sleep without stroking, touching or cuddling your wings..Have fun!

✣ Overall, he doesn't really care, but he's less possessive because he knows demons don't fall for just anyone they meet, only special chosen one, so you won't fall for anybody else and because he knows you won't die during a stupid assassin!

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Skin I Hate

Astarion wakes up from yet another nightmare but this one brings even more disgusting memories that he is used to.

TW: Mentions of SA, mild self-harm Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, f!tav, established relationship, post-game Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The weird perk of being an elf is being conscious when dreaming.

Non-elves are blissed with sleep, letting the dark void consume them for a night. Meanwhile, adult elves have to see their own past and re-live the memories in these few hours of meditation.

When it's good memories, it is a dream. When it's bad, it's a nightmare. And unfortunately for Astarion, his memories only fuel the despair.

"Here you are, boy," he hears his master's disgusting voice. "Such a handsome young elf you are."

Cazador is dead. It's not real. It's yet another nightmare that has come to haunt him. The old vampire was so pathetic he didn't even bother to hunt himself, fearing the only thing he could truly enjoy as an undead. There is nothing to be afraid of. Astarion stabbed him twenty-eight times, slaughtered him like a pig he was.

But nightmares keep coming, and there is nothing Astarion can do to stop them.

"You don't want to do this, but you are still doing it."

Astarion remembers everything. He doesn't remember his past when he could see his reflection or the sun, but his mind has preserved all the memories he wishes to forget.

The desire to peel his skin off. The dirty touches. The never-ending tortures and hunger. Sometimes, Astarion thinks this is the reality and the last two years are just a hallucination, an evil trick. Freedom, safety, a woman to hold. It’s all unreal.

Astarion is still locked in the tomb, isn't he? He is still in the kennel, flayed and beaten. He is still in his master's full power, doing every disgusting thing he orders.

… Astarion opens his eyes. He sees the wooden ceiling above him. He hears birds chirring in the distance - it's late afternoon, warm and sunny. Astarion can't understand where he is; the nightmare still holds a grip on his mind. The undead heart feels like a tombstone in the chest.

There is an urge to hide, run, and return to his master because the longer Astarion is absent, the more painful the tortures will be.

Then, he sees a set of armor, too small for him to wear. A travel sack with food he doesn't need, and a sword he doesn't know how to fight with.

Tav.

The realization resembles a lover's embrace, gentle and strong. It was indeed a nightmare. And this is the reality for Astarion. Freedom. A journey under the starry night sky. Days spent in shelters like this abandoned hut in the middle of nowhere.

And Tav's love.

Her trust, her caress. Her loud laughter at his jokes, her concentrated face when she takes care of her weapon and armor.

Their innocent mockery of each other. "Astarion, what does it say?" she asks, pointing at the board at the tavern. "Tav, I still can't apprehend how you lived up to being an adult without getting reading skills." "Oh, I am sorry I was too busy surviving! Not everyone is born in cities!"

His little brave Tav, whose heart is big enough for them both. His fierce companion who believes in him a hundred times more than he believes in himself. Her imminent faith in good, in people. In the chance, there is a cure for vampirism, in the idea that evil forces will always be defeated.

There was time when he thought Tav was just stupid. It took him a while to realize her faith comes from dark places. She knows the sorrows of this world no less than him, but she chooses to always see the light.

And Astarion chooses to be with her.

“Look what you have done to her”, something dark whispers in his ear. "She has to hide in shadows with you. If it wasn't for you, she could stay in the nearest village and sleep comfortably, but because of you, she has to stay here, in this wretched hole of a place. You are tainted with blood and pain, and you taint her as well."

Astarion tries to shut this voice up. But he can't. His own skin feels disgusting as if covered in acid sweat. His body is dirty. His touches are cursed. After everything he did, after everything done to him, after all these people he slept with, after everything happened to him in Cazador's mansion - he has no right to ruin Tav.

Astarion stands up, trying to shut the voice up. The hut is so small it suffocates him, but he can't go outside; the sun still shines.

"Damn! Gods damn you!" he screams, but the voice sounds hoarse as if he broke it in his sleep.

Maybe he did.

Nails dig into the skin, causing dull pain. Astarion makes a sharp movement, leaving deep pink strains on his left arm. Pain is pleasant and familiar. He keeps scratching the skin as if trying to peel it off.

Blood starts dripping to the floor.

The pain brings temporal bliss, and the sight of his bloodstained hand somehow comforts Astarion. Tears stream down the face - tears of desperation. Of darkness.

"Astarion," he hears a quiet voice. "Please, stop."

He turns his head and sees Tav. She wears her camp clothes, a pair of trousers and a shirt. Her hair is wet. She probably has bathed in the nearest river. Feet are bare and covered in soil. Astarion notices a blade of grass stuck between her toes.

Tav approaches him and makes him sit on the floor. He tries to drop the sleeve to cover the injuries as if it could trick her.

Tav gently touches his neck, avoiding the bite mark. Her touch is thoughtful, kind, and warm. She smells like sunlight. Astarion freezes, staring at the wall, not knowing how to look at her, not knowing what to do.

"What happened?" she finally asks. "I got used to your nightmares, but this is the first time you harm yourself."

"Nothing"

Tav sighs and stands up. For a moment, Astarion thinks she will leave him, but she just kneels at her travel bag and gets a healing ointment. He usually applies it to her after fights with monsters while she jokes, "You should see the other guy!".

The ointment prickles the skin and accelerates vampiric regeneration.

"Tell me," Tav asks.

He shrugs. "There is nothing to tell. Nothing you already don't know, just another nightmare. Tell me how the world looks under the sun."

"Astarion, you are my love and my life. But if you keep pretending everything is good when it's not, I will hit you with something heavy."

"You are so adorable when you try to threaten. Like a hissing kitten."

She laughs, and he can't take his eyes off her smile.

Then, Tav takes his injured hand in hers and caresses the knuckles. She waits for him to answer.

"If you woke to me trying to peel my skin off, would you want to know why?" she seriously asks.

He gulps. Of course, he doesn't need to tell now. Tav won't force him. He can tell her later when he feels more like it. Or never tell. It's his right for privacy. But it means Tav will be more preoccupied than usual, that the next sunrise she won't leave his side, that she will offer him her blood more than usual, more than she can give without complications.

Astarion can't do this to her even though he has a right to do so.

"I feel disgusting," he finally admits.

"What?" she is shocked. "Why?"

"I feel my skin is dirty, and no matter how strong I scrub it, I can't escape this feeling. I have done terrible, loathsome things, and the same things were done to me. Any time I touch you, I feel like I taint you, burden you with my own nightmares."

Tav is silent. Her eyes study his face. Is this remorse in her eyes? Sadness? Anger?

"Astarion. I am going to ask you a question", she finally says, "And you will answer it. You will not try to lie. You will not try to banter. You will tell me the truth. Did he force himself onto you?"

Astarion stares at Tav in disbelief. How can she know? How did she guess?

She touches his cheek, and it causes tears to flow again.

"Yes," he answers shortly and bites his lower lip. "Many times. Before he grew tired of me and sent me to the streets."

Tav doesn't say anything. Instead, she opens her arms and hugs Astarion, pressing his head against her collarbone. He can't see her face, but he knows there are tears on her face as well.

"How did you know?" he finally asks. "Tav … did anything… like that…"

"No, I was never assaulted. But every girl, whether she is an elf or dwarf or a human, a peasant, or a noble - knows such things. We are warned about it from a very young age. Even when it doesn't happen to us, we know someone it happened to. I think I guessed the moment you told me about your past."

"You disgust me," he remembers a cruel voice as if its owner wasn't the one who made Astarion disgusting.

She pulls away and kisses his forehead. "You are more than this. More than your trauma, more than your past. You are brave, smart, kind, even if you don’t want to admit it. I know what you are, what happened to you. It's a part of the deal. But please don't hurt yourself. If you do this, you continue Cazador's work. Because he would have mutilated you. The only thing he could not take away from you was your appearance, your face, your beauty. It was the only thing left from the past self. You can't see the reflection, but at least you know you look the same as 200 years ago. And your master needed it to lure victims. He couldn't take it from you without consequences for himself."

Tav puts her hands on his shoulders and looks at his eyes.

"Sooner or later, he would have found someone new, someone innocent to do your job, and he would have mutilated you. He would have taken the only thing you were left with. Every time you try to harm yourself, every time you hate yourself, you continue his job. I don't fucking want this. You don't fucking need this. The bastard is dead. You killed him. We can't change what happened to you. But it means he can't return either."

Astarion puts his hand on his knees and smiles. "I don't deserve you."

"You do deserve me, and I deserve you. There is no part of your body I find disgusting."

Astarion instinctively covers his bite mark. Tav notices it and gently removes his hand. She looks at the bite mark closely as if studying.

Long ago, they agreed he didn't want his bite mark to be touched, and Tav carefully avoided it. He couldn't know what this scar looked like but was sure it was repulsive.

And then Tav kisses the bite mark.

A shiver goes down Astarion’s spine, there is a forgotten memory of being bitten by a hungry monster who didn't know any better than to attack a weak, dying person.

There was a time when Astarion prayed to the gods to save him. Every divine creature he remembered – Lathander, Loviatar, Selune, Tyr, Savras – and a hundred more. No one answered. But what if someone did? He just needs to figure out which one is responsible for making sure Tav is born and survives through childhood, and who put her right in front of the Nauthiloid. When he does, he will become a man of this god.

Then Tav pulls away and looks at the entrance to the hut. "It's still hours till sunset. Is there something I can do to make you feel better?"

You don't need to do anything – the sole presence is enough.

"Сould you give me the book from my bag?"

Tav smiles and opens his travel bag. "There are two books"

"The green one"

"They are both green!" she pointed at the volumes, the cover of the first one was the color of wet leaves, and the other resembled a malachite.

"The one you like more."

Tav hesitates, looking at the covers, and then chooses the second one. When she sits beside him, Astarion wraps his hand around her waist.

"What does it say?" she asks.

"The History of the Western Heartlands," he opens the first page. "But you are going to read it yourself. I don't want you to be dependent on my reading skills."

"Oh", she pouts. "I knew you don't like reading to me!"

"I like reading to you," he says, "And I want to teach you to do the same. Come on, it's not difficult. I need to concentrate on something anyway, and teaching an adult person to read will definitely be a complicated task. I will read, and you will follow the text with your eyes, then I will ask you to repeat what I said. Deal?"

Astarion presses his finger at the first line. "The history of the Western Heartlands is a history of endless battles and destroyed empires.-"

Tav repeats after him. It takes them a few hours just to make it through the first page. He sees her anger when she can't remember a specific letter and almost childish delight when she manages to read the word without his help.

When the sun finally sets, they pack their bags. Astairon helps Tav to put her armor on, tightening the belts, and they leave together into the night.

"You do feel better, don't you?" she asks, walking a few steps ahead of him.

Astarion concentrates on his feelings. The disgust and fear feel like a distant nightmare, something he can easily brush off. Even the bite mark Tav touched so gently stopped causing so much mental pain.

"Yes. I feel great, my love."

[eywamygoddesswrites]

— 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽 — (sully family x fem!sully!reader)

pairing: sully family x fem!omatikaya!sully!reader

tags: mourning, getting therapy

warnings: lowercase intended, implied character death, angst

a/n: characters are aged up! this is inspired by that one tiktok audio and then my curiosity got the better of me and turns out, it was a whole youtube series and i was hooked on it. i've been wanting to make a fic based on that audio for a while but didn't know what characters to use. hope you guys enjoy despite it being angst ㅠㅠ

a/n 2: do you want a longer version of this oneshot? look no further because i will be making a short series based on the youtube series called "LUCIDS" and the masterlist can be found here!

word count: 1.1k

+ gif not mine. ctto.

y/n had been keeping herself busy for the past 3 months. she did everything to keep her mind off of everything. weaving baskets and nets like it was a project to give everyone in the clan, fishing for meals that can have her family full for 5 whole months, collecting and discarding every foraged stuff she could get from her endless walks, riding her ilu further and further beyond the reef just to feel something.

being the oldest of the sully kids was tiring but even being a sister wasn't able to make her feel anything. it was much more numbing than it should be. it made her distant from them.

lo'ak couldn't meet y/n in her eyes. it was like if they looked at each other, the walls they both built would crumble the second their gazes meet. it was like strangers being forced to get to know each other after knowing the horrible crimes they both did.

kiri was very concerned for her older sister. y/n exerts her energy beyond her capacity, does dangerous explorations beyond the reef, and sometimes come back with cuts and bruises, and how she would skip meals to finish all the projects she 'needs' to weave. she was overworking herself and in the 3 months y/n was busy, she had fainted countless times eventually norm and max were called when it kept happening.

tuk missed her big sister so much. she missed collecting pearls by the shore and being carried around while exploring the forest. she was scared at how y/n looked now. from once being a bubbly young adult who was curious and eager to learn something new to a drained-out, almost dead-looking na'vi who would kill people if she saw them looking at her weirdly.

if the three were concerned, imagine how her parents feel. it hurt jake and neytiri to see their oldest overwork herself to distract whatever she was feeling. jake knew how it felt like and he wanted to help his daughter badly. but each time he tried to talk to her, y/n would push him away further and further. she even hissed at him to make her point.

neytiri was angry and concerned. why was her daughter pushing her own mother away when all she wanted to do was help? y/n shouldn't push her away because as her mother, neytiri understands her more than y/n knows, or at least that's what she likes to think.

it was like y/n became a stranger that the sully's just allowed to stay in their home.

when y/n was fishing for dinner, her mind had been wandering elsewhere. her eyes stared down at the net she held as dread slowly filled her mind. it was like her sight was enlarging in front of her until she hears a distorted voice call out her name. "y/n."

she pulled away from her trance, eyes widening as her breathing became slightly erratic. y/n breathed in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth before her attention went to ao'nung, or what looked like ao'nung by the shore.

"hey there! just a quick update. tsireya is still swimming with the ikrans, who were gliding through the mountains on their bellies, then they ate an eye of a seaweed. now, the ilus and tulkans are fighting for some reason." ao'nung said, he was far away from y/n but somehow she heard everything clearly.

"oh… wow…" y/n says, clearly not understanding a single thing from what the metkayina had just said.

"how's your existential crisis coming along?" he asked so nonchalantly.

y/n was bewildered to say the least. this was the longest time she had held a conversation for how many months now.

"uh… fine?" she answered back but it sounded more like a question. "good!" ao'nung exclaimed back before turning around to leave when,

"ao'nung!" y/n immediately called for him, who turned back around to look. "can… can dreams also have memories?" that sounded wrong. "i mean, can you still have dreams even when you're dreaming?"

"oh, y/n. what else are memories if not dreams themselves?" ao'nung replies, not making as much sense as the question she asked.

"what–" "alright then, more soon!" ao'nung cuts her off before running off to eywa knows where.

y/n was left once again with her thoughts. she turns back to the net she was holding, only for it to be gone. this confused her and when she turned back to where the shore was, the next thing she knew, she was sitting on a giant rock.

"do you blame yourself?" the same distorted voice that called out her name earlier asked. distress filled her veins as she looked to where she heard the voice.

y/n's eyebrows furrowed. "what?" she asked. she saw herself, an exact copy of herself wearing human clothes that norm and max wear with a pen and paper held in her hands.

"well, it's quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a kind of guilt." her copy said, voice distorting more and more.

y/n's mind was in turmoil. "what situation?" she asked. the same dread she was feeling came into full force. her chest became heavy as it caused her to not breathe well.

her copy had this concerned look but the smallest of a smirk appeared on her lips, the following words leaving the copy's mouth. "the accident."

that's when y/n was transported back to the day neteyam had died.

she was there when he was shot through the chest. she knew the bullet was meant for her but he pushed her away and in turn, the faith of death fell upon him.

while the rest of her family had cried, she didn't. instead, she felt numb and angry. no other emotions filled her body except these two. it had helped her kill some sky people and some avatars when she came back to save kiri with her parents but after that, all y/n felt was numbness.

the heavy routine she placed upon herself became the only thing that made her feel something through the numbness she felt. it wasn't enough but at least it was something.

the same distorted voice came back. "it's very common for people to invent blame or create a causality" then the voice became normal in an abrupt manner, and her surroundings turned to norm's lab where he used his avatar and where they were able to breathe normally. "when in reality, it was completely out of your control." norm's voice was soft as he talked to the young na'vi in front of him, who in turn was staring off through the distance.

the forest where she and neteyam grew up, only for her brother to never come back home.

[luvhu9hes]

It Was Only a Kiss | EE73 x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Content, Minors DNI, Underage Drinking, P in V, Thigh Riding, Cursing, use of pet names (baby, princess), not proofread, Slight Angst (If I missed anything please let me know)

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: So, this is my first time ever writing something like this, this is also my first time writing smut. Please let me know what you think of this, but I'm also sensitive so please be nice abt it, thank you! All love - Chaela <3

"Come on y/n/n please, it's been so long since we've gone out together" Lydia pleads as I try to hide under my comforter. Normally I would love to go out and party with her, but ever since she started dating our friend Mark I've turned into a major third wheel. Don't get me wrong, I love the two of them and how happy they make each other, but sometimes I'd like to be able to enjoy myself without having to watch them suck each other's faces. After a tremendous amount of prodding Lydia finally coerced me out of bed picking out my outfit for the party.

"Lyds, are you sure I should wear this? Isn't it a bit, much?" I ask as I rake my eyes over the outfit she chose. The outfit consisted of a black miniskirt, a red lacy top which showed off the tops of my breasts really nicely, and some matching black boots.

"It's perfect y/n/n you look hot, nobody will be able to keep their eyes off of you babes."

I roll my eyes at her comment and go to finish my hair and makeup before grabbing my keys and head out the door following behind Lydia. The Soph house, home of the University of Michigan hockey team was only a 10 minute drive from our dorms and we arrived in no time. We made our way inside, music blasting throughout the house practically making the walls shake. The house was hot and stuffy as the sea of bodies was full of young adults grinding and dancing along to the music the air smelling of smoke and alcohol. Almost immediately upon arriving the two girls are greeted by Mark.

"Hey babe" he smiles leaning down to press a kiss to his girlfriend's lips, he then turns to the other girl greeting her as well.

"Hey y/n/n, we've missed you" he says hugging his friend.

"Hey Marky, I've missed you guys too, i've just been busy" I lied not wanting to admit i've been avoiding hanging out with the couple. Just as the three of you were about to head towards the kitchen to pour yourselves some drinks an arm makes itself comfortable around my shoulder causing me to look up and see none other than Ethan Edwards. You weren't exactly sure how the rivalry had started, but for as long as you could remember you and Ethan had hated each other. Growing up next door to each other you and Ethan had been forced to spend time around each other, due to always going to the same school and our parents being good friends. When I had gotten accepted to University of Michigan I had expected to finally escape the brunette, but of course to my disappointment he had been accepted right along with me. At the sight of the boy I tried to contain the look of disgust in my face as I pushed his arm off from around my shoulders. Upon Ethan's arrival Lydia and Mark took it upon themselves to make their way to their other friends across the house.

"Wow y/n/n, it's good to see you too." Ethan teased as he moved to put his hands in his pockets.

"What do you want Ethan?" I asked getting irritated by his presence.

"Pump the hate breaks princess, I was just trying to be civil" Ethan states as he holds his hands up in defense.

I scoffed at the idea, Ethan Edwards? Civil? I think hell would freeze over before that happened. I tried to push past him and move towards to kitchen to get alcohol in my system, but of course he had to follow right behind me. I grabbed myself a beer from the fridge cracking it open and letting the golden liquid glide down my throat the sensation already seeming to ease my annoyance. That was until a set of arms were working to trap me against the fridge.

"Ethan, what are you doing" I asked in a questioning tone.

"Just admiring" the boy admits.

"Where the hell is this coming from Ethan? For as long as I can remember you've hated me" I asked him.

"Who says I hate you?" he questions.

"I don't know Ethan, maybe the way you've been an asshole since the day I moved in next door" I state in a matter of fact tone.

"I wasn't trying to be an asshole y/n" the use of my full name shocks me as he continues. "I just wanted to get to know the pretty girl next door, but the only way I could think to get your attention was to tease you." He finally admits.

"W- what? You're telling me all of these years you've been an ass because you had a crush on me?" I ask hesitantly.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I was doing" Ethan starts,

"and if you'd let me make it up to you I'd show you exactly how I feel for you princess"

"Oh yeah?" I asked, my voice just barely above a whisper

"Yeah" he breathes, his hands on my hips as he leans his face down towards mine his lips ghosting over mine as he says, "You have no idea how long i've wanted this."

"Just kiss me already Ethan" I mumble starting to get impatient. Ethan doesn't take a second longer to crash his lips onto mine. I never would have thought that I would be in the kitchen of the Soph house making out with Ethan Edwards, but here I was with one hand tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck, while the other still held onto the long forgotten can of beer I had grabbed minutes earlier. I tugged at the ends of his hair causing him to groan into my mouth allowing me to slip my tongue in and explore his mouth with my own. After what feels like hours we finally pull away to catch our breath, but within seconds I'm pulling Ethan back down to my lips kissing him with a bruising force. Soon Ethan begins trailing his lips down to my jawline and my neck causing me to tilt my head back in pleasure allowing him more access as he nips and starts to leave marks all over. I know that at this point my panties are dripping from the immense amount of pleasure i'm receiving in this moment.

"Eth.." I moan out as his hands begin to explore my body. He hums in response not fully acknowledging me. "Ethan" I repeat this time in a more firm tone.

At the sound Ethan lifts his head from my neck to look at me. "What's wrong princess? Do you not want this? I can stop it's no problem I just-" he begins to ramble worried he's scared me off.

"No Ethan, I want this, just not- not in the kitchen Ethan" I say reassuring him. Ethan gapes at me as though he had completely forgotten that we were still in the middle of the kitchen. "R-right, well then let's get out of here" Ethan says as he grabs my hand guiding me through the crowd of people and upstairs towards his room. The second the door is locked behind us my back is pushed up against the door as Ethan smashes his lips against mine with the same intensity as minutes ago in the kitchen. My hands go to tangle themselves within his hair once more has his go around yo cup the backs of my thighs. “Jump princess” he mumbles into my lips and I comply immediately eliciting a breathy “good girl” from him causing me to moan into the kiss and him to smirk. Ethan backs us up until he's sitting on the foot of his bed with me straddling his lap. As though my hips had a mind of their own they slowly began to rut against Ethan's causing him to pull away and groan. “What have you done to me Princess?”

“Less talking, please” I breathe out as I continue to grind my hips against his. Ethan lets out a chuckle as he goes to take off my top, looking at me for approval to which I nod. He slowly removes the article of clothing and gapes as my bare breasts are revealed. Starting to feel a bit self conscious I go to move my arms in front of my chest to which Ethan immediately grabs my wrist saying “Don't hide from me now Princess, you're gorgeous.” His hands move from my wrists, down to knead my breasts letting his thumbs flick over my hardening nipples.

“Oh God” I moan out at the sensation and before I can speak again Ethan is enclosing my nipple in his mouth licking and sucking at the bud eliciting a string of curses to come pouring out of my mouth. I tug at the strands of Ethan's hair pulling him away from my chest and back to my lips, my hands moving down his chest to palm his strained cock through his jeans. “Oh Princess” he groans. The two of us are quick to start stripping each other down leaving ourselves bare in front of each other. To say Ethan was attractive was an understatement, he quite literally looked like he had been sculpted by Greek Gods with his chiseled jaw, toned abs, and his incredibly muscular thighs which you couldn't help but staring at. Ethan caught your gaze and smirked as he began to speak, “I see you looking at my thighs Princess” you flush at the realization you've been caught, but he only continues when he says “does that turn you on Princess, the thought of getting off just by pleasuring yourself on my thigh. You like that idea don't you?” he pulls me in by my wrist choosing to run his fingers along my slick folds “Look at you Princess you're so wet f’’me already, c’mon baby come ride my thigh like a good girl” he begins to slur lust evident in his voice. Not being able to decline his request I move to sit with my cunt directly on his thigh as he puts his hands on my hips and begins to set the pace for me flexing his thigh every once in a while the muscles in his thigh touching my clit sending the most delicious sense of pleasure coursing through my body. I very quickly could feel the the very familiar knot tying in my stomach as Ethan quickened the pace enjoying the view of me getting off just at the feel of his thigh. Reaching between our bodies I snaked my hand down to my clit pressing tight circles only increasing the pleasure I was feeling at the moment. “I- I’m close” I'm barely able to muster out before my orgasm overtakes me and I clench my eyes shut leaning forward to bite Ethan's shoulder at the sensation.

Ethan mumbles sweet nothings in my ear as he moves his face to the crook of my neck leaving sloppy kisses in his wake. As I come down from my post orgasmic sensation I reach my hand down to begin stroking Ethan's cock which is angry due to its lack of attention. This is a sign to Ethan that I am ready for more. Quickly Ethan moves us around so that I am laying with my back against his mattress with him hovering over me leaning down to leave a kiss on my lips, this one was different from the others, not full of lust or need, it was a kiss full of passion and emotion. Ethan pulls away and looks me in the eyes with a look clearly asking for permission to which I quickly nod needing to feel him inside me. “Uh uh baby, I need words Princess” he says.

“Ethan please, need your cock. Need you t’ fill me up so good” I babble. That's all he needs to hear before teasing my folds with the tip of his cock and then pushing into my entrance without warning causing us both to moan out at the feeling.

“Fuck baby you're so tight f’me, milking my cock so good baby” Ethan groans into my ear.

“So full Eth. You fill me up so good” I practically cried.

Sure I had had hookups throughout the last few years, nobody had ever been able to please me like Ethan already had, and nobody even came close in size compared to Ethan. After adjusting to the stretch, I encouraged Ethan to move and he did just as I had asked. At first it was painful due to the new feeling but soon that pain was replaced with pleasure. Once the pain was gone I urged Ethan to to move faster to which he gladly obliged setting a harsh pace eliciting almost pornographic sounds from my mouth. All that could be heard throughout the room was the sounds of skin slapping and moans coming from both me and Ethan. The knot in my stomach began tightening again as I was starting to get closer and closer to my orgasm for the second time of the night. I could tell Ethan was getting close as well as I could feel his thrusts getting sloppier and his cock twitching inside of me at each thrust.

“‘m so close Ethan, so close” I breathe out.

“Me too Princess, I want you to cum with me baby, okay? Can you do that f’me baby?”

“Yes, please Ethan ‘m gonna cum”

Ethan reached between our bodies going to draw tight circles on my clit, pulling my orgasm out of me, my pussy fluttering around his cock milks his orgasm out of him as he lets himself lay on top of me. We lay there for a couple of minutes coming down from our highs basking in the post orgasmic feeling. Once we’ve caught our breath Ethan gets up pulling on his boxers leaning down to press a kiss to my lips before he heads to the bathroom. He returns with a washcloth in his hand going to clean the mess made between my thighs trying to be gentle as to not cause overstimulation. Ethan then goes to grab me a pair of his boxers and a shirt for me to sleep in. After I get dressed Ethan opens his arms for me to come join him under the covers to which I happily obliged laying with Ethan as we slowly drifted off to sleep, deciding to leave the conversation about where this will lead for tomorrow.

fin.

a/n: I have no clue how I feel about this or if I even like this but yk 💁🏻‍♀️

[multi-fandom-simp]

Forever and always.. or maybe never.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Hanahaki Disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: Some say that you cannot die from a broken heart, but how wrong they are. When your lover and husband, Aemond Targaryen begins to find comfort in another, the universe takes pity on you. Well, if you can count a deadly flower disease as pity.

❗️TW❗️: Profanity, mention and descriptions of blood, descriptions of choking and vomiting, hints to infidelity, mild mature scene, violence, character death, angst

(A/N: Hello, this is my own take on Hanahaki's disease with Aemond! Feel free to comment your thoughts, I am always open to criticism and feedback! I hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 3.3K

Your love for Aemond hadn’t always been unrequited. At least you’d like to think it wasn’t. Both of you had grown together in the red keep as children. The two of you read together, ate together, and overall grew together. Aemond was your best friend before he was your betrothed. Whenever his mother was busy, it was your side that he clung to. The two of you were so attached at the hip that Alicent even took you to driftmark with them. You and the beast that came with you of course. No one really knows how you stumbled upon a hyena pup, nor how you tamed it to your side as a child. Nevertheless, they never forbid you from having it. If the Targaryens could have their dragons, and the Starks their dire wolves, then certainly you could have the tricky little beast that you insisted on calling Lark. In some ways, Alicent was thankful that you insisted on keeping it. After all, it was your hyena that stood between Aemond and the other children on that fateful night in driftmark. The beast had acted as your legs and ran faster than you could to reach the devastating brawl before you. Despite Aemond’s wails of pain, Lark refused to let the guards come too close. Only when you arrived did she move aside. Regardless of being young, that was the first night you realized your feelings for Aemond Targaryen. The very sight of him bleeding and broken struck you so deeply that you felt as if you had been maimed too. Alicent had noticed the change as well as she watched you stand by her son's side whilst he received stitches. Her dark eyes gazed deeply at how tightly you held Aemond’s hand, as if he would disappear. Aside from her, no one had ever loved her son this passionately, not even his own father. 

“Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders” Rhaenyra demanded.

“ Was the blade of your son’s knife not enough sharpness for the night?” All eyes turned to you in surprise. You had never been known to speak out if it did not benefit you. Most of the time you were seen standing to the side, watching while others tore each other apart. Aemond could always see past it, see your true intentions. He knew you were studying how different people fought and where their weak points were. You had been around the red keep long enough to know that Lucerys Velaryon was Rhaenyra’s soft spot, and tonight you planned to use that against her. 

“ You should watch your tongue when you speak to me” Rhaenyra warned, her eyes flickering over to her father to see if he would do anything. 

“ or what, you’ll have Lucerys cut it out like he did Aemond’s eye” The neutrality on your face was enough to both scare and amaze Aemond. 

“ You dar-”

“ Enough! My son has lost an eye and now you insist on arguing with a young girl?” Alicent moved up next to you, a hand on your back in support. She knew how terrifying it was to stand alone in a room full of adults scrutinizing you. That’s how her wedding felt after all. The queen’s hand never wavered through the interrogation of the green children. You held Aemond’s hand and she held you. Until things escalated that was. When the queen rushed towards Rhaenyra you stepped in front of Aemond. Shielding him from the sight of his mother in the midst of such violence. All Aemond could see in the midst of chaos was you, and all you could see was the river of blood on Rhaenyra’s arm. Little did you know how familiar you would be with crimson rivers in due time. 

It was shortly after that night when your betrothal to the second son was announced. Alicent assured that it was needed to form an alliance between your family and theirs, when in reality it was a match made to ease the worried queen’s heart. In her eyes, no one else was a better match for Aemond than you, and for the longest time, you believed her. Oh, how foolish you were. 

Six years passed with ease for the two of you. The first four were filled with fleeting touches, deep conversations, and young love. 

“What is this, my lady, a journal?” Aemond’s voice floated around you as his chin found purchase on your shoulder. 

“ And if it is?” You hummed, closing the leather-bound book a bit too quickly.

“ Then I fear I must inspect it. Wouldn’t want my future wife to be keeping secrets from me.” You recognized the playful jest in Aemond’s voice and wasted no time in rushing up from the bench. 

“ Not so fast, my love.” Aemond chuckled, ensnaring you from behind. 

“ Aemond!” You protested, smacking his locked arms with the leather bound book. 

“ Have I ever told you how much I adore it when you fight back?” Aemond snickered, his breath hot on your neck. 

“ You pervert!” You feigned offense before looking ahead to your pet, “ Lark, get him girl, c’mon!” 

“ You know she won't come. That ole girl loves me as much as she loves you." Aemond smirked, whistling for Lark in the way you taught. 

            " Traitor." You grumble with a hidden smile as the Hyena trots over to the pair of you casually.

The two of you were married when he was seventeen and you were sixteen. Your union was repeated twice over. Once in front of a sept full of people, and then in the tradition of old valyria. Aemond wanted reassurance that you would never part from him. Your marriage fueled two more years full of what was now mature love. 

The edge of your teeth pulled at the pillow of your bottom lip as you stared at the dark oak door. The sound of jeering men swarmed your thoughts and threatened the bile at the back of your throat. You tried to hide your discomfort for Aemonds sake, but he was keen to your reactions by now. 

“ Do not fret, my love, I will not let them hear your noises. I would never let them hear what is only meant for me and you.” Aemond spoke lowly, using your hips to turn you towards him and away from the door. 

“ They’ll hear regardless.” You muttered bitterly, “They’re sat out there with their ears pressed against the door just wa-”

“ I said they would not hear you and I meant it” Aemond murmured into your ear with a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath it. 

“Aem-” You sighed contently.

“That’s it..sȳz riña.”Good girl. Your breathing faltered as the pet name slipped past his lips. He had figured out how much you liked to be praised from your journals.

“ You r-remebered…”You managed to gasp as he trailed down your neck. 

“ I remember anything and everything that has to do with you, my love. I always will.” Aemond promised between wet kisses. You shouldn’t have believed him, but you did. 

You never would’ve thought that you could fall deeper in love with Aemond Targaryen after that night, but nine months later proved you wrong. The sight of him by your side as you delivered your son set permanent hearts in your eyes. He had not cared for the blood or screams, only you and the babe. The babe who he later named Aemys because it was as close as he could get to amethyst, your favorite color. Every little detail of  the things he did revolves around you. That’s what fueled your denial the first time you coughed up blood. 

Your eyes stared hard at the bloody petal laying in your palm. Had that come from you? You had read strange tales of those who bled flowers, but you believed it only to be fiction. Surly your blood would not change at the ripe age of ten and nine. 

“ The flower that once bloomed love will soon bloom blood. “ Helaena aimlessly mumbled to herself from beside you. 

“ What..?”Your heart sped up as you analyzed her words. No one had ever paid any mind to her silly riddles, except for you. 

“ Blooming blood blooms a burial.” This time Helaena was focused on you as she spoke. Her eyes filled with unknown sorrow. You left Aemys to play with his cousins as you rushed to the library. No one else was there to question your  sanity as you pulled book after book from the shelf to find the old dornish fables that lay hidden among them. 

“Hanahaki..”Every word, every page, and every definition seemed to tear you apart further as you read. No other condition led to flowery bile except for this one. Aemond loved you though. How could this be possible?

Your thoughts would be answered two morrows later when Aemond returned from his siege of Harrenhal. Everyone had expected to see him arrive on dragon back alone, certainly not with a strong bastard. A gorgeous strong bastard at that. You felt your chest tighten as you gazed upon her dark flowy locks and enchanting eyes. Oh by the seven, how could you spite him for loving someone like her? If circumstances were different, then perhaps you too would fall under her spell. It wasn’t until you saw the way she clung to Aemond’s arm that the coughing fit started. This had to be it. What else could it be? Aemond hated physical contact with strangers, yet he let a previously unknown wetnurse cling to him like a paramour. The harder you thought about it, the harder you coughed. The fit only resulted in a petal or two, but in time that would grow. The longer Alys rivers stayed, the worse you got. Both you and the universe could feel Aemond straying from you, even if he spoke differently. 

“I am not in love with her!”Aemond snapped, reaching his breaking point in this petty argument that had started hours ago at dinner. 

“ You do not see the things I see, Aemond. The way you defend her, encourage her, look at her…all in the way you used to look at me-” It took effort to fight down the sickness as you fought. It had been months, but you made no move to tell Aemond, you couldn’t.

“ I do not love her as I love you-”

“ Yes, but you love her!” You cried in outrage, gripping the wall near you for support. Everything became so out of focus as you spoke the words. It was the first time you had ever admitted it to yourself. The dew of brick cooled your skin as you leaned against the wall. Your body trembled with deep echoey coughs as petals tore their way up your throat. 

“ I did not mean to make you sick, dear wife” Aemond spoke softly and simply. Wife. He had never called you that before, not even on your wedding night. It was always my love or Ñuha prūmia. How ironic for him to call you his heart when sooner or later he would be the reason yours cease to beat. 

“ Just go, Aem, please.” You pleaded, turning away, “I do not wish to fight.” 

“ As you wish.” Aemond’s bow before he left was the final straw to crack your heart open. Why must he be so formal when you stand dying a few feet away? How can he not see how badly you suffer? Were the shadows beneath your eyes, or the crack of your lips not big enough clues for him? Would you need to be dead for him to finally understand?

Unfortunately for you, that’s exactly how it was going to be. Everyone else around you had begun to notice the shift in your behavior. The fatigue, the paleness, and the emotions. Alicent first noticed it when she sat in the nursery with you, Helaena, and the children just after supper. She saw the way your eyes refused to leave Aemys as if it would be your last look. The way you held him was the same way she held Aemond when he lost his eye. 

“ He’s a clever boy.” Alicent smiled as Aemys recited a word back to one of his cousins. 

“ That he is.” You agreed, melancholy ghosting your lips. It hurt the queen to see you this way. You were a part of her almost as much as her children. You came to her as a child she was not forced to love nor conceive. Yet you wormed your way into her heart as if she had carried you. The sight of you so sickly and sad tugged at Alicent’s heart. 

“ You’re sick, are you not?” Alicent proclaimed in observation rather than a question. 

“ Mhm, In a way I suppose I am.” You hummed out softly. It had gotten to the point where it was hard to speak most days. The petals had begun to come up in thick, dry heaves, with occasional thorns that tore at your throat. 

“ Have you told Aemond?” The queen inquired. 

“ Aemond is the reason I’m sick in the first place.” You grumbled before sighing in defeat, “ Or I suppose it’s more of my fault. I was foolish to think he would ever actually love me.”

“ You don’t mean-” Alicent’s soft words trailed off abruptly. Alicent Hightower was no stranger to the hanahaki disease. She too had suffered through it once. Except she learned how to get around it.

“ I do.” You answered simply, with no trace of sadness or indifference.

“ There are ways around it my d-”

“ Such as forgoing my love for Aemond, I know. I could live a long life if I cast aside every loving memory I hold of him, but alas it is not that easy. I have tried, if that brings you any comfort. In the midst of the night when my eyes are swollen from tears and the blood in my throat is so thick I cannot breathe, I have tried, and I have failed.” Alicent’s eyes well with tears as you speak, almost as if she’s dared to imagine you in such dismay. You reach out to soothe her hands comfortingly, but she grips onto yours tightly instead. 

“ It is not easy, but you must keep trying.” Alicent urges, a wobble to her voice. 

“ There is no reason for me to put myself through the agony of erasing my happiness when I am already in physical torment. The sight of Aemond is the very reason I wake up every morning. Hearing his laugh, seeing his smile, and feeling his warmth are all things that have kept me going. Forgetting those would be forgetting myself.” You reason, a wisp of remembrance in your eyes. 

“ If not for yourself, then for Aemys” Alicent argues. 

“ Aemys is one of the reasons I have chosen to give up. Every time I look at him I see Aemond. They are alike in everything but the eyes. The mere sight of that boy reminds me of the night he was made, of the love and passion Aemond had for me. Yet he no longer holds in regards to me. I would rather Aemys hear stories of his parent’s love than grow up with two plain parents.” The child in topic bursts into giggles a few inches away, stealing your attention from the queen. Your eyes crinkle with happiness and you move to turn towards him, but Alicent holds firm. 

“ Aemys needs his mother.” She argues once more. 

“ He does not. Aemys will have a loving father and grandmother by his side. Alongside his aunt Helaena, Uncle Daeron, and three beautiful cousins. Even Aegon cares for the little rascals’ life.” You chuckled. 

“ That is n-”

“ Please, I have made my choice. I appreciate your council, but it is too late. I fear after I lay my son to sleep, it will be my last night alive. I thank you for all the love and comfort you have given me in my lifetime. I love you, mother.” You pressed the meat of your cheek against Alicent’s hand in farewell before standing.

“ If you’ll excuse me-” As you stood to retrieve your son, Alicent excused herself from the room hastily. Never did she think she would find herself running through the castle’s corridors, but yet here she is. Alicent’s heels had been long forgotten and the emerald hem of her dress dragged upon the stone as she made haste to the library, where Aemond would be. 

“ Aemond! Ae-” The frantic shrill of the queen mother’s voice echoes throughout the shelves. 

“ Mother?” Aemond calls out, emerging from a row with a disheveled Alys in tow, “ Is something wrong?”

“ You hide away fondling a wet nurse while your wife withers away! Have I truly raised you this way?” The despair in Alicent’s voice takes Aemond by surprise. He reaches out to hold her arms, but she pulls away. 

“ She is not withering away, mother. She has assured me that it is just a small cold.” Aemond speaks calmly, in hopes to ease his mother’s franticness. 

“ A small cold!? She has every sign of hanahaki disease and you have not suspected a thing?” Alicent refuted. 

“ Because it is not possible! I love her!” Aemond snaps. 

“ Not enough!” Alicent sighs, “ In no world should I have had to be afraid of letting her go in fear that I would not see her again. She has accepted her death, Aemond. How far out of love have you fallen with her to the point where your wife greets death openly?” 

Aemond doesn’t bother with a reply because he’s already on his way out of the door. His pounding steps reverberate through the empty halls and the tremble of panicked breathing surrounds him. Fear nearly eats him alive as he reaches the door to your marital chambers. Never has he been terrified to open those doors to the sight of you. He had never once feared  finding you dead, but now he has. Slowly but surely, Aemond pushes the giant oak open. He spots you knelt on the balcony in your nightdress, looking up at the stars. Lark lay whining at your side until she hears Aemond shuffle forward. Much to Aemond's surprise, the hefty beast that once worshiped him as you did, bared its teeth to him. 

            "Please.." Aemond wasn't sure if he was pleading to Lark to let him pass or to the gods for your life. Either way, the Hyena was the first to answer him. Lark moved aside slowly so that Aemond may pass, but still kept defense from a ways away.

“I-” Before a word can even escape his lips, you’re lurching forward. Aemond rushes forward and sinks to his knees to hold you. The convulsions of your stomach can be felt as he circles your waist. 

“ I’m so sorry, my love, please.” The cold wash of fear grips his spine as blood and flowers paint the floor. He has no idea what to do. You’re not saying anything or doing anything to cease the onslaught of terror, yet you’re not pushing him away either. On the contrary, you’ve tangled your fingers with the hand he has over your stomach. 

“ I love you. I’ll always love you.” Aemond croaks helplessly into your hair as you lean back against him. It’s too late, you had once said. It seems that the universe had agreed. Your breathing rattled to a stop and the grip of your hands weakened.  “ I love you. Forever and Always. I promise.” Aemond whispered, pressing a salt-soaked kiss to your temple as he felt your heart slow. The thump that once echoed through your back onto his own heart stuttered to a stop, and with it so did Aemond’s world.

Part 2

[bbrissonn]

𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

in which you lay alone in your bed at night wondering where your relationship with the young star went wrong

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting 

HUGH DISCLAIMER: this fic doesnt have a clear ending. i literally have no motivation to continue this, but i cannot find it in myself to start my next work for this album until this one is out. so yeah, sorry about that :)

warnings: angst, swearing , not proofread  

pairing: jack hughes x reader

wc: 2.6k (including lyrics)

guts masterlist

Cat got my tongue

And I don’t think I get along with anyone

Blood runnin’ cold

I’m on the outside of the greatest inside joke

And I hate all my clothes

Feels like my skin doesn’t fit right over my bones

So I guess I should go

The party’s done, and I’m no fun, I know, I know

I know, I know

Ever since you had moved to New York in early 2022, it felt like it had been living a lie. Like this life you were living wasn’t yours, like you had just stolen it from someone. Growing up, you had always been homeschooled, meaning your social life was slime to none. So, it was safe to say that when you chose to move to New York for a job your mom’s friend had offered you, you were scared. 

You only had two real friends, who you barely ever saw because of their busy scheduled with school before, and even more now since you three were all over the country doing your own things. Luckily for you, there was a girl only 2-3 years older than you at your job, meaning you had someone to talk to if you felt the need. After a month of two, the two of you became friends, growing ever closer when you realized you lived in apartment blocks next to each other. 

Which is how you found yourself at a bar on a saturday night in October of that year. Mailey had convinced you to come with her, claiming the two of you needed to decompress from your busy week at work. You rolled your eyes at first, but agreed none the less. Ever since this summer, you found yourself starting to go out more, joining Mailey and her friends every once in a while. Only this time was so much different than the others. 

There was a big group of maybe 20ish guys, age ranging from young adults to full grown men, taking up most of the place. The two of you were confused, seeing as this bar barely ever had people coming in, and it was mainly the same people coming here every week. So, a group of random guys neither of them had seen around before certainly peeked your interest. 

“What do you think they’re doing here?” You asked as the two of you sat down at your usual spot. The group occupying the opposite side of the room. 

“Don’t know. But they’re not buying that cheap booze.” Mailey mumbled, her eyes focused on the insane amount of liquor at the couple of tables they were occupying. The two of you eventually started forgetting about them, talking about random things that happened throughout the week. 

“Not to freak you out, but there’s a guy that keeps looking at you. A cute guy.” The girl across from you said after about an hour of the two of you being there. You furred your brows slightly at her words, before turning your head in their direction. That’s when you met his eyes for the first time. He had a slight grin on his face as he stared into your eyes, nodding along to whatever the guy next to him was saying. You sent him a small smile, waving slightly, which he answered with a nod. 

“More like hot guy.” You mumbled, looking back over at your best friend. You had had a couple of flings here and there, but nothing ever serious, and you were never used to getting boys’ attention on a night out. 

“He’s going to the bar. Go talk to him.” Mailey announced, making you turn your head to look at him. At the same time, he looked over at your table, sending you a small wink when your eyes met. 

“Rich coming from someone who always says girls don’t chase, they attract.” You teased, making her roll her eyes. You eventually decided to go up to him later that night, talking for a bit before exchanging numbers. Jack, you learned his name was, didn’t seem to want to get into talking about his group of friend too much, so you kept all your questions to yourself. 

Over the next couple of weeks, the two of you got to know each other. Your friendship slowly formed and the two of you grew closer each other. But, clearly Jack was still holding back on some stuff. He still refused to open up about his friends and what he does as a living exactly. You told yourself that he’d tell you when he was ready, but you were getting a little impatient, which is why you pretty much forced the answer out of him when you went over to his apartment one day. 

“When are you gonna tell me?” You asked, pausing the show the two of you were watching. Your words made him look over at you, a confused expression on his face as his eyes met yours. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When are you gonna tell me truth, Jack. If that’s even your name.” You sassed, making the boy next to you let out a deep sigh as he threw his head back. 

“D’you wanna see my birth certificate?” He answered coldly, making you scoff. “What I do doesn’t matter, Y/N, so just drop it.” 

“If it doesn’t matter than why won’t you tell me, Jack? You know pretty much everything about me and my life, and barely know anything from yours. God, you won’t even tell me the names of your brothers!” 

“Why do you care so much?” 

“Because I like you, Jack! And… and I though you liked me back, but clearly I was wrong.” You admitted, standing up from your spot on the couch as you started packing up your things. “Just forget it.” You mumbled as you started making your way to the door. You were stopped right as you were about to grab onto the doornob. 

“Y/N, wait!” He said, grabbing your wrist and turning you around before you could leave. “I like you too, Y/N, and I’m sorry I haven’t been honest with you, but I didn’t want what I do in life to influence how you see me. I’ve had way too many people use me and I didn’t want that to happen again because I really like you.” 

“Jack, I made it clear hundreds of that time that I what you do in life wouldn’t change the way I see you, but you kept hiding from me. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me.” You explained with a scoff. The boy in front of you sighed before cupping your face in his head, his forehead leaning against yours. 

“I know, I know, I should’ve told you a long time ago. But what we have, it’s really special to me, and it’s so good. I didn’t want to ruin it.” 

“You’d have to be a serial killer for me to change my mind about how I feel, Jack.” 

“Stay. Please. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just don’t leave me, please.” He begged, his thumbs rubbing small circles under your eyes. You swallowed harshly before slightly nodding your head yes. Jack then brough the two of you back to his couch, and he stuck to his promise. He started going on and on about his life, starting with the fact that he played hockey for the Devils. Then he moved on to telling you pretty much every single memory he had about the sport, a wide grin plastered on his face. 

In exchange, you opened up to him about some of the insecurities you had because you were homeschooled, including having to attened big parties and being surrounded by large crowds. Jack had promised that was something he would never put your through, but you quickly learned that his promise meant nothing to him. 

I broke a glass, I tripped and fell

I told secrets I shouldn’t tell

I stumbled over all my words

I made it weird, I made it worse

Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide

It’s social suicide, wanna curl up and die

It’s social suicide

It had now been three months since Jack asked you out. You had met his brother Luke when the boy came to visit, talked to his parents through face time a while ago, but you had yet to met his friends. You tried hard not to let it bother you, but it did. He didn’t want you attending his games either, claiming he didn’t want people to hate on you because you were his girlfriend. You couldn’t help but overthink the fact that maybe it was just because you were his girlfriend.

You had seen pictures of the other players wives and girlfriends, and you looked nothing like them. They all seemed so outgoing and the life of the party. Not to mention all of the models Jack followed, all of them being the exact opposite of you. You had questioned him about it one night, he just scoffed and said you were being petty and pathetic asking him a question like that. 

“J?” You called out. His arms were wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his chest. 

“Mm?”

“When am I gonna meet your friends?” You asked quietly, making the boy sigh harshly against the back of your neck. 

“Got to sleep, Y/N.” He mumbled. 

“Could you at least answer me?” 

“I don’t know, okay? Your weird fear of crowds or whatever makes it impossible for you to meet them all at the same time, and I’m not gonna go through the burden of setting up little dates with my teammates just so you can meet them. Can I sleep now, mother?” He answered harshly as his arms left your frame and he turned around, his back to yours. You felt tears prikle in your eyes at his words. 

“I can handle it.” Your voice was low, not trusting your voice not to crack if you talked any louder. Jack let yet another sigh at your words. 

“We’re getting together after the game tomorrow, come if you want.” 

“To your game?” You asked hopeful. You were growing tired of just watching him play through your TV screen, when he was close to your home. 

“No. After.” And just like that, all your hope was crushed. 

“What should I wear?” 

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He grumbled, getting out of bed making your head snap towards him as he approached the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Guest room. I need peace and you keep talking.” Was the last thing he said before leaving the room. When you woke up the next morning, he was gone, no text no notes, nothing. He didn’t come back for his pregame nap either, which scared you a little. But all your nerves went away when his face appeared on your Instagram feed, a bright smile on his face as the picture the Devils posted illuminated your screen. 

All of your texts to Jack had gone unanswered, as well as your calls. Thankfully, you knew where the team would be heading after the game, it was a local bar near the rink they went to almost every time after a game. You had gotten there a lot later than everyone, spending thirty minutes in your car deciding whether or not Jack would still want you there. You figured there was only one way to find out so in you went. 

The place was crowded, the music loud as the bartenders prepared multiple drinks. Realistically, there wasn’t that many people here, just the team and a couple other regulars, it was just a really small room. It took you a couple of minutes to spot Jack, who was sitting at a table with a couple of his friends and lots of girls. You tried to look as confident as possible as you made your way over to him. Some of his friends and their partners started at you, wondering what someone like you was doing here. 

“Jack?” You called out as you stood behind him. His arm was resting on the chair of a pretty blond girl next to him. You couldn’t quite describe the look in his eyes when his head turned to face you, but the words he was about to say completely crushed you. 

“Do I know you?” He questioned, and you could feel your heart shatter inside of you. You tried your best to keep a brave face on, but you were dying on the inside. 

“J, come one, this isn’t funny. I’ve been texting and calling all day, you were gone when I woke up this morning.” You mumbled, taking a step closer to him. The girl on his right could read you perfectly, and she realized that you two were a couple. When it clicked in her mind, she sent the boy a judging look before standing from her seat and walking back to her friends. 

Jack got up right after her, gripping your wrist and dragging you outside the bar. “What’re you doing here?” He asked harshly once the two of you stood outside alone. 

“No! What are you doing, Jack?”

“I’m enjoying a night with my buddys!” 

“Yeah, the friends you said I could meet. Tonight!”

“When did I say that?” His words were harsh and rude, making your heart shatter even more. You truly did not understand why he always acted this way towards you lately, but you were growing tired of it. 

“Last night! You said I could come if I wanted to, and I want to be here, so here I am. And here you are, with your arm around another girl!” You said, your tone matching his. You were tired of letting him walk over you all the time. 

“I said that so you would shut up and leave me alone. God, you’re always just complaining about everything and anything. It’s like nothing’s ever enough for you, you always need more–” 

“Oh, nothing’s enough for me? What about you, huh? Am I not enough for you?” 

“There you go, making it about you like always.” 

“Because this is about me, Jack! I am your girlfriend of three months, and I don’t know any of your friends! It’s like you’re ashamed to be with me. Do your friends even know about me?” You asked. There were tears in the back of your eyes threatening to spill, but you blinked them away. You had cried enough over him for the last couple of weeks. The boy in front of you stayed silent at your question, making you scoff. 

“Of course they don’t know, just like your brother’s weren’t suppose to know, or your parents. You don’t want anyone to know that your girlfriend is me.” You spoke with your voice low. This exact though had been in the back of your mind for a long time, but saying it out loud made it feel so much more real. 

“Things were better before you knew–” 

“They were better for you! You lied to me for weeks, and you’re still lying. All you do is lie, Jack. I can’t believe I waisted so much time and energy on you. You never wanted this relationship, did you? You just wanted someone to fuck whenever you needed, someone to be there for you. You didn’t care who it was, you neved cared about me. You’re pathetic, seriously.” You mumbled before pushing past the hockey player and walking to your car. 

You were done with Jack Hughes.

[adoreeenina]

I wanna be yours - Prologue.

(Recom! Miles Quaritch x Sully! Reader x Recom! Lyle Wainfleet)

(Warning: Polyamorous relationship. Angst. Enemies to Lovers. Slow burn. Falling in love. Redemption arc. Canon deaths (but not really). Romance. Smut. Jealousy. Threesome. Anal(both F & M receiving). Mention of suicide, self harm, depression, anxiety. PTSD. Feelings being revealed. Jake and Neytiri not being good parents to reader. Reader being a motherly figure to Spider.)

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Peace. That’s what I felt. At this moment. Flying through the sky on my ikran, Rawm. During the eclipse are my favorite time to go, it’s peaceful, beautiful, I could never get tired of the sight. Being away from all the responsibilities, my father, my mother, Tarsem. I sometimes think about my most precious childhood memories.

Childhood memories are sometimes covered and obscured beneath the things that come later, like childhood toys forgotten at the bottom of crammed adult closet, but they are never lost for good.

I remember as a child, my father would tell us stories of the Great War, the Great Toruk, how he and my mother have met. My father says it was “love at first sight” but my mother says different. I always admired their love story, I always thought it was romantic. The outsider and the chiefs daughter falling in a forbidden romance.

We used to play tag, fighting over toys, especially Lo’ak and Kiri, exploring the forest, fighting on who gets to hug dad or mom first when they come back from hunting. That life was full of laughter and so carefree. I was such a daddy’s girl, I looked up to my father like he was my hero, he taught me how shoot my first bow and arrow, how to hunt. I still remember how my first hunt went.

“That’s the one. Over there by the big rocks. There he is” father whispers lowly as he stands behind me. Helping me adjust my arm that held the bow and arrow.

I take a deep breathe in and breathe out steadily as I watch the fish swim before releasing the arrow. Remarkably hitting the fish with one shot.

“You got it! Yeah!” My father celebrated proudly as he claps his hands with giant smile on his face.

I love making my father proud, it made me feel complete.

I’m the oldest of 5 children. I’m first… then Neteyam… Kiri… Lo’ak… and lastly my baby sister Tuk, but she’s no baby no more, and there’s Spider. From what I’ve been told he’s an orphan, his parents were killed by the war. He was too young for cryo, so he was just stuck here. He’s been raised by the human’s at the lab.

I was a bit skeptical when I first met Spider, he was so tiny compared to us, weak. I started warming up to Spider when he would come around often. Lo’ak and Spider are attached to the hip. Being the oldest, I started seeing Spider as a little brother, my family.

As I was getting older, it was no secret that my mother despised Spider. She wasn’t being subtle about it. I heard my father calling Spider a stray cat once. I didn’t know what it meant until I asked Norm.

“It���s when a cat is abandoned and basically finds shelter elsewhere that isn’t it’s home. Most people don’t like stray cats”

It took me a while to understand it and when I did, I felt disgusted with both of my parents behavior towards Spider.

When I got older I asked my grandmother why does my mother hate Spider. That’s how I found out who is Spider’s father.

“You’re going to hate me too?”

“No”

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re my brother”

Spider thought I would hate him cause of who his father was, but I don’t see Spider as his father. Spider isn’t his father. Spider is a child Eywa.

Since then, I’ve been spending more time with Spider, my mother hated it, my father was worried. I’m protective of Spider, I promised myself I would lay my life for him, and I have the scars to prove it.

“Ow, stop pressing too hard” I yelp as my grandmother worked on my wounds on my shoulder and my upper chest with mixed herbs.

“Skxáwng” my grandmother cursed at me.

I was attacked by a Palulukan. I tagged along with Lo’ak and Spider on one of their adventures, to keep them out of trouble. We didn’t realize we came upon their territory. It wasn’t until one jumped at Spider, Lo’ak tried to defend him by shooting an arrow, but the Palulukan armor is too thick to make any real damage. I managed to push them out of the way, by doing that, it managed to claw at my shoulder and upper chest. Both of the boys were worried, I told them to run while I distracted it. Thankfully they did, and I managed to get away but not without a few wounds.

When I got home, both of my parents were worried, mostly my mother, my father was pissed. My mother blamed Spider and my father blames Lo’ak.

Once my grandmother was finished, she left and my mother came in, and that’s when the argument started. She accused Spider. I defended him.

“You could have been killed” my mother snaps.

“I had to protect my brothers”

“Spider is not your brother” my mother seethe. My head snap to glare at her.

“Kiri isn’t my sister by blood. But you took her in as your own. Why is Spider any different.” My mother hissed under her breath at the accusation.

“He is not one of us, he does not belong here. This is not his home.” My jaw clench, ears tipping back, outraged.

“Yes it is. He was born here. This is much as his home as it is ours. He is a child of Eywa.”

“Ma’daughter-“

“No! I’m tired of seeing how poorly you’ve treated Spider. How cold you are towards him. You always treated him with such distaste and unworthy just because of who his father is.”

“He is a demon”

“So is dad!” My mother froze.

“Or did you forget? We! Your children, has demon blood. Kiri’s mother is a demon.” My mother turned away not being able to look at me.

“Look at me!” I snarl. This is the first that I ever talked to my mother this way. I should feel guilty but I don’t, I’m finally letting out all of my lent up rage into her. I turned to leave, stopping short to glance at her over my shoulder.

“You disappoint me, mother” with that, I left.

My parents raised me to have strong beliefs, and stand up to what I believe in. I’m guessing they’re regretting it now.

Since that arguement with my mother, I started pulling away from them. My father tried talking to me but it felt forced. My relationship between my parents had gotten worse.

Since passing my Iknimaya and Uniltaron, my grandmother been teaching me the way of Eywa, to be the next Tsahik. I honestly thought it should’ve been Kiri, I knew she had a gift that I could never compare to, and there’s Tarsem, my father has chosen him to be my mate, to be the next Olo’eyktan. I hated being promised to someone I did not love. I found it unfair how I’m promised to someone when my mother and father mated for love.

I would avoid my training to spend my time with Spider, to get away from all the responsibilities that were forced upon me.

I trust Spider, he’s my brother, we confide our secrets, our feelings with each other. I told him how I felt insecure about my eyes, hands and figure.

Since growing up, I knew I was different but the way I look compared to the other female Na’vi. They are small, extenuating their lithe form, the agile body of Huntresses. I’m more on the curvier side, atleast that’s what the scientist from the lab tells me. I have wider hips and bigger breast than the woman from the clan. I felt insecure, a freak when I’m with the clan, but with Spider, I felt normal.

I was at my happiest when I am with Spider, including my other siblings, but they don’t understand me, not like how Spider understands me. But the thing about happiness? It can vanish in a heartbeat.

Everything was perfect, until they came, the sky people. They burned down our village. Many of our people died that day. my mother was hysterical, seeing everything in flames. I felt my heartbreak seeing nothing but fire, what broke my heart was seeing many of our people in tears, I could hear many of the animals cry in pain and fear.

When I made eye contact with my father, that’s when I knew. We were at war once again.

My father got harder on us, me, Neteyam, and Lo’ak. Specifically me, he yells at me about the oldest, I need to protect my younger siblings. He treated us like soldiers, he forgets that we’re his children.

I sometimes just want to go back to my childhood days and love a stress free life… some days I wish I could go back to my childhood. Not to change anything but to live it all over again.

The only thing that’s been keeping me sane is Spider. Despite what anyone says Spider is my brother, I love him like a brother and if shits gets down, I’ll go to war like he’s my brother.

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/aninelover21-blog/731326408887042048/bound-to-you-masterlist

[ewesless]

Quick little thing! No, I was wrong. It became a Very Long Thing...

We know that Diavolo is operating at an entirely different frequency and level of energy from Barbatos and Lucifer and it isn't just because he's a touch starved extrovert with repressed introverts for parental figures friends.* But he might be 18-21.... As a person from the early 90's this is a traumatic realization. I thought he was an early 30s year old manchild to be quite honest.

*love your takes so so so freaking much RadArchives 😭

Utilizes canon compliant relationship dynamics and Diavolo's Lucifer complex. Luke is aged up to cope with fanservice not facilitate it.

I interpreted it as Diavolo was between 10-13 when Barbatos agreed to be his Butler. OM indicates it was 800 years before Barbatos quit feeling angry at Diavolo for the incident (he was teasing). 10,000 is equal to 10 years, so based off my estimate Diavolo would be 18-21. Unless it was 800 plus years then, since Barbatos had time to cool off which would be much more comfortable to me 😂

The canon chronological ages are vague in order for players to have freedom (dads and mom coded old as dirt option through to bratty youngest brother who seems like an angsty and rebellious teen) so just for reference these are the ages I use:

Solomon - 34 (right there in the middle of adulthood and an older brother age bracket with Diavolo. Asmo is robbing his own cradle!)

Simeon - 40 (peers with Lucifer and they are only a few months apart! Perfect adoptive/group dad age of being mature and comforting without being old-old 😭)

Luke - 16 (Again, comfort level. He's a bratty tween, but I can't tolerate the fanservice with him as a 10 year old at all. 16 is a nice middle ground between emotionally charged, discovering self and independence, "I'm grown!" and the complex realities of the world. Him developing THOSE FRUSTRATING AND CONFUSING NEW FEEEEEEELINNNNNNGS are tolerable as well.)

Barbatos - 42 (the answer to life and everything. I'd place him closer to 60 as a foxy and wicked classy grandma older woman gentleman, but he looks like a pretty, young 30-something so this fits the bill. This also goes into my headcanon that Father made him before the angels and long before humanity.)

Diavolo - 33 (an out of touch with the youth and his peers, but still a youthful soul + gap moe)

Belphie and Beel - 25 (still young enough to do underdeveloped maturity and be doted upon baby brothers, but grown enough that they aren't actually immature and know better they just haven't put the effort into developing impulse control and practicing good judgement)

Asmodeus - 27 (pretty and passes easily for 23 but can hook up with the MILFs and DILFs as well as the young 20s. He's young, but not afraid of becoming older, not just because he's beauty everlasting and that skincare routine is ✨️flawless✨️ but because he sees the beauty and attractiveness of maturity and himself)

Satan - 23 (Personal Favorite + Occultic Number! Even though he's as old as Lucifer I feel like he was born at the age that Lucifer was created for additional headcanon reasons.)

Leviathan - 31 (*scoff* "Look at this old loser with a failure to thrive and manchild tendencies" says an old loser with a failure to thrive and the same tendencies)

Mammon - 32 (okay, this would go on for more than a paragraph or few run on sentences 🤣)

Lucifer - THE BIG 40 (caught up between older than the others brother who had to grow up too fast and never got to be young / middle aged surrogate father figure of a house full of rebellious teenaged adopted kids that never got to have his experimental young adult phase...)

Thirteen is a sensitive, trendy young woman so we DON'T ASK THESE QUESTIONS 35 I like an age gap with my ladies~ Candy is 39 (because 4 is associated with death in Japanese and I have a 4 year age gap with my sister which was a perfect combination of generational difference + ability to rebel from the older sibling, angst about idolization and knowing you aren't the same, but aren't meant to be. There's the possibility of strife caused by disappointment(s)/fallen idol for Thirteen and for Candy the pressure of the expectations of parents as first born and the care, protectiveness and responsibility of older sibling for their younger sibling. They're able to rely on each other even though Thirteen is a wild woman antisocial ambivert with a strong personality and even stronger opinions whereas Candy seems like a serious and violently antisocial introvert who conforms and does what she's expected to in all areas of life. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL US WHAT CAUSED THE SCHISM BETWEEN THEM. WHAT HAPPENED WRITERS? WHAT HAPPENED?)

Mephistopheles - 31/35 (I like the idea of him having an age gap of 2 years with Diavolo either as a more mature junior to senior or a senpai who won't notice him because his eyes are set on a raven haired beauty with eyes like firy rubies that is also a heavily overworked deskworker with difficult teen boys and an involuntarily in a fatherly role for Diavolo too.)

Raphael - 39 (One year the junior of Lucifer and Simeon. Because he never rebelled I thought it had something to do with him being a degree separated from Sime and Lucy to Father, but still being close enough to him to be the devoted, but the most conflicted about it, son.)

Michael - 40 (Either he was created before Simeon and Lucifer or after them. He's got something seriously suspicious going on. I feel that it parallels Diavolo's, but instead of a hopeful vision for the future and further developing what his father started Michael's is in a self-serving manner and his personal agenda is founded on the self-perception that he knows better than his Father.)

[jakessbtch]

☆ party | j.g

masterlist | requests

TW ✿  °   : mentions of drugs/alcohol, swearing, drinking, arguing/angst, mentions of drunken sex, sexual implications.

pairing   ✿  °   : johnnie guilbert x plus-sized reader [s/h]

summary of fic ✿  °   : After getting home from a party, where everything went wrong, she brings up an event.

requested by  ✿  ° : no-one​

word count   ✿  °   : 7k

a/n ✿  °   : its finally here! after weeks! x

Parties were probably the worst thing known to mankind. They were so horribly messy, forcing a bunch of horny and carefree young adults, barely over 21, into a 2-bedroom house, with barely any room to walk. Typically, it was so full that the countless people who decided to waste their time and attend, would spill helplessly into the front and backyard, where they’d either find someone vulnerable to grind on or a bush to throw their guts up in. There would be loud rave music, and discarded items of food, just waiting for the unfortunate to slip on, and did I have to add the common issue of no room to breathe? I mean sure, there were a few bare sofas, and dining room chairs in which were free for rest, but they were for the losers who couldn’t speak to other people. For the losers who showed up to the event alone, or had their companions desert them earlier that night, right? right. And that was where I was sat, in the kitchen which was filled with discarded cups, and few people seeking for more alcohol.

Anxiety crippled through my chest as I observed all those around me, laughing, and having fun. There were so many people, and not one face I could recognize. I deemed that this whole night had been a waste. My friends had left me to stand alone in a crowded room, and my best friend, Johnnie, left me to fight against the cruel world of drunken slurs and catcalls I couldn’t prevent. I was so scared, what if someone tried to do something, hurt me, fight me? So many prying and disgusted eyes. No matter where I glanced, someone was watching me, with awkward smiles, and looks that poked at my appearance. My big and foul appearance. This wasn’t my crowd, these weren’t my people, just look at me. I was wearing baggy grey jeans and some jacket I grabbed off the floor, which probably hadn’t been washed in a week. While every other girl I saw, wore skims and crop tops, showing off their little waists, while I tried to hide my big one.

My hand cautiously grabbed a hold of my phone, the grip tight and very much laced with hidden fear. Being on my phone was the best scenario, it would be a silent sign to passers, that I was busy in a text conversation. When I brought up the familiar note’s app, I prayed no one saw the screen. Not only would I be at a party alone, but being so much of a loser that I couldn’t even involve myself with a text interaction? All I could think of in that moment was, if it was somewhat believable. Would someone still want to speak with me? Was I shaking? I was sure I was shaking, but could other people see it? I closed my e/c eyes for a moment, trying to regulate my anxious breaths. The thick scent of weed and cigarettes filled my lungs, still not seemingly putting my mind at rest. Wasn’t that the whole point of smoking and weed? It was all so stupid now, I had always been told to ease up at events, but why not now? Why was it so difficult now that I was sitting by myself?

“You’re sitting alone. Are you alright, y/n?”

I flinched at the sudden voice, someone wanted to speak to me. my eyes instantly flashed up, them laced with all the pent-up fear I had experienced, but for the first time that night, I was relieved. Sam Golbach, someone I barely knew, someone I hardly spoke to. Though, someone to finally accompany me. Sam used to live in the same house as my friend, Jake Webber, who I used to work for at the time, with editing. Jake and I are really close, I thought of him as a brother, which meant that at some point, I’d meet his other friends, Sam, Colby Brock, and Corey Shearer. Jake always took me to small gatherings and social groups the group would shamelessly create on Friday nights. Though, during those late nights, I never stayed long, I never stayed long enough to become close with all his friends. Yet, I did stay long enough to enjoy Sam’s generous company. I offered Sam and gentle smile at his wanted concern, pulling my h/c hair out of my eyes.

“I’m fine Sam, I just want to go home. That’s all.”

Sam nodded gently at my sweet confession, his blue eyes swiftly washing over the multiple sexual interactions displayed by passing people. They had a lot of bravery displaying such intimate actions in front of so many people, in front of so many judgmental eyes like my own. However, Sam’s caring eyes diverted back to me, giving me his sole attention and a reassuring smile. His face was full of concern, and I genuinely felt that he cared for me. It seemed that he understood my fear and discomfort in a way, as if he had been in my unfortunate situation before. Sam’s company kept me grounded, the company of someone I knew made me relax. Friendly, small gatherings gave me the feeling I felt during that moment, as I knew mostly everyone who would attend, though here, it was different. I knew very little people, and I was sure everyone here was in the same boat as me. They didn’t know anyone, which made tonight the perfect ‘one-night stand’ breeding ground. A night to live and forget.

“Here, might help?”

I gently took the time in looking down at Sam’s outstretched hand, a singular red polo cup aimed in my direction, filled with a liquid I could only assume was alcohol. I never really drank at parties, because eventually I’d get too carried away, and I’d do regrettable shit that I’d find out the next day, things that would haunt me. As well as the fact, I never took drinks from other people. I didn’t know what would be in them, I’ve heard plenty of spiking stories in my life. Yet, Sam wasn’t just anyone, everyone I knew trusted him. Jake trusted him, Tara, Jake’s ex, trusted him, and Johnnie did too. They were all smart people, knowing right from wrong, and if Johnnie could trust him, a small piece inside of me claimed that I could as well. My hand graciously accepted his offering, deciding that I should just take a single drink for the night, nothing more. Afterall, I would find myself driving someone, if not all my friends, home.

“Thanks. Enough about me, are you having fun?”

My voice was hoarse as I asked him the question, deciding to divert the conversations away from my wellbeing. Who cared if I was having a rough night? Sam should be focusing on the events of his night. My lips graciously sipped the sour alcohol, the soda it was mixed with bubbling in my stomach. Sam spoke with such ease, despite the loudspeakers that sent shockwaves of sound throughout my body, and likely his own. We spoke about a few things; Colby, Creating Content, and parties. However, the conversation drew out, occupying multiple minutes of our time. How late was it? Should I find Johnnie or Tara? Jake would be drunk so he would be no help. When the plaguing thought of leaving Sam filled my mind, he beat me to the quick goodbye we shared, claiming that he had to find Colby. I was grateful for that, as the red polo cup had been emptied, and I was sick of the constant rave music radiating off the walls.

“Sorry.” “Excuse me.”

Walking through that huge and messy crowd might as well had been the worst decision I could have possibly made. No one cared that I was there, as I was being tossed around like a dog’s used chew toy. Thrown into wooden furniture as if I was nothing. All I wanted to do was turn around and yell at the rude obnoxious assholes who made my search longer, and slightly more painful. As a final resort, to get out of the sweaty and foul crowd, my hands had traced along the wall, trying to find an empty hall, or vacant room, where I could catch a breath. Where I could have a moment alone. While I was searching for the said unoccupied room, and my missing friends, I was quickly starting to tire, still regretting this whole night. I wanted to leave, and sooner than ever, why was it so hard? Suddenly, after what felt like forever, I felt a door slip from underneath my fingers, and I had never been quicker to realize that it was an unlocked room, praying that it was empty.

The minute I was blessed with the muffled music, and the loss of sweaty bodies, I had slammed the white wooden door. The silence accepted me so easily and fondly, and for the first time that night I felt relieved. I turned around with closed and relaxed eyes, not taking note of the pair who were comfortably sat on the sofa, seemingly a while before I got there. Though when a dainty and polite cough reached my aching ears, I practically jumped out of my skin. I had no idea what to expect walking into that room, a blow job, boobs? No, none of those. What I was faced with was a really pretty girl, and the last person I’d expect her with. Johnnie Guilbert. Though I didn’t care about him, what I cared about was how pretty that girl was. She had long dyed pink hair, piercing blue eyes you couldn’t forget. She was so slim as well, the complete opposite of me. when I looked at her, the hatred for myself grew. The hatred for my weight, for my skin, it just seeped into my chest, like venom. I wanted to cry, to throw up, to get rid of this suffocating feeling. I wanted to be the girl Johnnie was so clearly interested in.

A small part of me had been crushed that moment, my heart. Everyone around me knew I liked Johnnie, God, even he probably knew. I was so obvious with my feelings, complimenting him when I could, giggling whenever someone said Johnnie and I looked cute together, but he was so insufferable and awkward to say anything about it. He avoided every question about us, so I took the hint that he hated the thought of a relationship with me. That feeling wasn’t foreign, it happened a lot when you looked like me. Boys gushed about having a ‘bigger girlfriend’, but when they had the chance, they were so quick to shut it down. They didn’t care about us, they cared about a good social image. With that image came feelings, the feeling of hate, and a feeling I felt that johnnie had. I wasn’t over my own opposite feelings, and with Johnnie abandoning me during the first 5 minutes to likely speak to this girl, if felt like a sucker punch to the stomach.

I felt sick looking at the two, the serotonin radiating off of them like a heater, though, I suppressed those gut-wrenching feelings. I had to come to the realization that Johnnie wasn’t the one for me. He was the one for her, her face was red under the dim lights, her smile stretched across the room, and his face reciprocated hers. He was happy with her, and I was happy for him, even if that meant the own destruction of myself. The destruction of my romantic interest, I’d have to destroy it, for him. I waved to the two awkwardly, my e/c eyes cautiously flickering back and forth between the two. Then, silence fell on the three of us, awkwardness. I tried to speak, but nothing came out, why couldn’t I speak? Where was Jake and Tara? I wanted Tara so desperately, I wanted to tell her to drive me home, to get me out of here, to get me home. Johnnie coughed awkwardly when he noticed my trance, and I breathed out, in one shaky break, I whispered.

“I’m going home.”

I had to get out of there, I had to leave the two be. I didn’t realize I was so rude, and I intruded in on something I regretted. Without another word, I left the pair sitting on the white sofa, while I shoved my way back through the messy, carefree crowd. There were no apologies this time, I didn’t care for anyone but myself. I didn’t care about the rude comments about my weight and ignorance, them drowned out by the loud music. Did the music get louder while I was dying emotionally in that room? Was the heater on, why was it warmer? The one thing I knew, was that I needed air. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, there were so many people, so little air. After what felt like forever, I found the front door. When the cool LA air kissed my face, a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. The air accepted me openly, putting my nerves at rest, and opening my mind, forgetting the previous events momentarily.

“Hey y/n/n! you alright?”

When the slurred, yet delicate voice was made known to my ears, I immediately knew who it was. Tara, just the person I needed, just the person I wanted. I was going to gush to her about what happened, about how it felt like everything leading to this moment was pointless. I always informed her about my feelings, about everything when it came to relationships. She called it ‘girl-talk’, however, by the tall and giggly man behind her, I held onto my tongue. In such a crowded place, with ears seeking for nothing but drama, someone would tell Johnnie, or that girl. It was all so complicated, and I already had enough of tonight, I didn’t need more. I looked back to the shorter girl, nodding shyly at her generous concern. I wouldn’t tell her about this, sometimes silence would beat the lying, the lying of my wellbeing. Truth was, I wasn’t fine in that moment, though I didn’t have to rudely affect others with my faults.

“I’m going home, tired, are you two driving with someone else?”

Jake started to loudly sing the 2000’s pop-rock song blaring from the confinements in the crowded, messy home, as if he had no care in the world. As if this was his last night alive. My eyes gently down casted to the two, how they seemed to fit right in with this crowd, and the comparison with the fact that I didn’t. I felt so out of place, like a sore thumb. While Tara was one of the most gorgeous women I had ever met, she was the definition of perfect. She looked amazing all the time, wearing cute little outfits, and being so precise with her make up. She was always so confident and kind to her friends and family, she knew how to control her jealousy and all her feelings. And Jake wore skimpy clothes without a worry, wearing crop tops, and styled skinny jeans with fingerless gloves. I envied the both of them, in silence. Tara shrugged nonchalantly, gaining my short attention once more.

“We’ll get someone to drive us, what about Johnnie?”

“What about me?”

I flinched at his sudden introduction, of course he had to appear now, out of all times. Why couldn’t he appear when I was sulking miserably in the kitchen, when I was alone? However, like most times, my bitter attitude was painfully obvious. The sudden distasteful expression I acquired, put Tara off drastically. Her dark brown eyes flickering between the two of us knowingly, as if she somehow knew what had happened minutes before in that room. As if she saw the interaction between the girl, Johnnie and me. When I looked up at Johnnie, I ignored his messy dark hair he hadn’t styled for hours, and the smudged blue eyeshadow spread amongst his eyes. What I did notice was that the girl he was talking to, was now gone. She wasn’t lurking behind him, like a lost dog, she wasn’t at his side. He left her alone like he did me. I bitterly ignored his presence, turning to Tara and clarifying.

“He can come if he wants, but I’m tired. See you two later.”

Biding my goodbyes felt different now, or was that the sinking feeling I had in my stomach? However, besides that uncomfortable feeling, I begged for Tara or Jake to stop me. Yet, with each passing step, and each crunch on the gravel, my hopes drowned out. Though, a new hope sparked, a hope that Johnnie wanted to stay. It was obviously selfish for me to not want him to accompany me, but my night was already ruined, I didn’t need it to get worse. Distracting myself soon occupied my thoughts, my eyes wandering to the various groups of tired people. Their hushed murmurs, and the small giggles that admitted from the social circles, distracted my mind from Johnnie. My hand gripped the car door handle, listening to the bright conversations around me for a few more seconds. Then, I decided it was enough, I decided it was alright for my thoughts to corrupt my mind, and I got into the driver’s seat. The slam of the door never put me at ease, and Johnnie's approaching figure made it worse.

As Johnnie got into the car, and the engine started, my questions started to shamelessly dart around the air. The questions that made grow to hate myself, more and more, with every passing minute. Why did Johnnie leave me to stand there, in a crowd of unknown people, like an idiot? Why did he suddenly become so interested in talking to new people? However, I wasn’t a seeker for the answers I needed, and I remained silent. I continued to ask myself those questions, from the minute I was sitting in that kitchen, to now, driving home in my car. With each passing minute, which felt like hours, the air grew thicker, and my mind ran faster. What were I to do now? How could I get over something so dear to me, how could I get over Johnnie? Did I try dating apps, but who wanted me? Men liked girls who could be picked up, who could wear their clothes as a dress, they didn’t want me. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, my stomach dropping lower than my feet.

When watching the bright street signs flash past the moving car, I simply recalled the fact that Johnnie hated parties like me. That’s actually how we came to be friends, best friends. Every single party, every single gathering, we were attached by the hip. Never apart. We were always together, but that didn’t stop the thought, the thought of; what had changed now? Had I not given Johnnie the validation he needed, did he seek that validation from someone else? Why hadn’t I been enough for him? The feeling of insecurity suffocated my chest again, every time I noticed that the feeling was gone, it resurrected stronger. Why was I feeling like this, why was I so defensive over someone who wasn’t even mine to begin with? Johnnie wasn’t my boyfriend. I had to realize that. He had his own life, and I needed to start living mine, and stop worrying about my looks, and my weight, and how I acted. I had to stop being such a push-over.

When the house rolled into view, I was sure to park on the edge of the road. In a safe area in which I knew I wouldn’t have to pay for insurance. I didn’t share a house with Jake and Johnnie, but I did live around 15 minutes away, not far. Though, I was gravely unsure if I’d stay awake the whole drive back, the settling fear of a collision pictured in my mind. I was sure Jake wouldn’t mind me staying, I’d probably sleep in their unused spare room, and at some ungodly hour of the morning, Tara would join me. My eyes drooped as we made our way to the front of the door, the walk remained silent, and chilling. The only thing making noise were our steps echoing around us. Then, before long, I found myself looking at Johnnie, no, admiring him, but no longer with love, with question. I never questioned our relationship, though now, it was the only thing I could possibly think about.

Johnnie took the honors in locking the front door once the two of us were safely situated inside, while I took my time in wandering to the cleansed kitchen. I didn’t notice the darkened man enter after me at first, though he made himself known when he gently pushed his way past me, looking for something dry to eat. It was a recognized habit johnnie had adapted to after parties, after he drank. If he ate dry foods, he wouldn’t throw up, it was smart. While Johnnie searched the pantry, I remained silent. The silence was thick in the air, only growing with each second, in which I was observing his turned figure. How could he just ignore me? Did he not care, or was it rather that I had to say something to him? Did I ask why he left me to wallow in my own social fear? Ask him what type of confidence had overcome him in those meek few hours we had been apart? I dropped the car keys on the marble countertop, an overwhelming sense of unconscious mind coming over myself.

“Why did you leave me Johnnie?”

“What?”

The gentle slam of the cabinet made fear lurch within my stomach, regret climbing its way into my throat. In that moment, I regretted ever talking, I should have just shut up. When his ice blue eyes rested on my slightly shorter figure, I felt so vulnerable, so afraid. I had a quick tongue, always biting back against strangers, so why was it so different if it was my best friend? Why was I so afraid of being mean to him? At the realization that I was afraid of losing him, I shrugged slowly. This all felt stupid; did I even know what I was meaning anymore? I felt as if I was spitting gibberish. Johnnie’s face was obviously laced with some sort of confusion, and something clicked inside of me during that moment. Something bubbled, a small tinge of anger, clear frustration. I was frustrated with the fact he didn’t seem to understand what I was saying, no one did. I was suddenly glad I had brought up my issue, because now I really saw if he cared or not. It really made me question; did he not care about me anymore? What had changed?

“What do you mean ‘what’? You left me alone at the party, for 2 fucking hours. I didn’t know anyone there!”

My once small and timid voice had now raised higher than it ever had, the anger extremely prominent in my tone. I never got angry at others often, every time I was close to ruining my mood, I would attempt to reason. However, I couldn’t reason now, I wanted answers. There were so many unsaid feelings, that were starting to overload my voice box, begging for release. Though, I never wanted them shown to the world, never wanted to show them to Johnnie. I vowed to keep these feelings to myself, until the time was right, though, was there even a time anymore? Had that time happened long ago, me to oblivious and insecure to realize it? The time had passed for me, and now Johnnie was invested in finding love, him never even waiting for me.

“Whoa, y/n... look- “

“No! Do you know how embarrassed I was? Sitting alone!? I was petrified!”

Johnnie’s right hand made no attempt to silence the loud slam from the closing cupboard door, his frustration and annoyance radiating alongside my own feelings and emotions. However, I didn’t care how he felt anymore, because he didn’t care about me. My feelings weren’t relevant to him tonight. Johnnie’s large black boots made a loud thump on the cold tiles, him not hesitating to step in my direction. The contortion of his once calm face gave me a silent sign that he was trying to control the anger that was begging to be shown to the world, but that made me the slightest bit more frustrated. Why was he angry at my reaction, why was he mad? He had spent his night laughing along with one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen, he should be ecstatic about tonight, he should be happy, right? I rolled my e/c at his attitude, I wanted to drop the situation, ignore it, though I wanted answers more. I wanted to know why.

“It had always been you and I together at parties, and now you run off! What about me Johnnie!? Fucking say something!”

“I… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

An apology would be amazing, though I didn’t say that. What did happen at his response was the expected rage burning through me at his nonchalant attitude, why couldn’t he just say sorry? Before I could think, my body reacted with my hands throwing my car keys into the walls. With the sudden adrenaline, and the lack of realization to what I had just done, I ignored Johnnie’s hard flinch at my actions. I didn’t care. I was sick of being overlooked, sick of being called the ‘fat friend’, sick of being that friend that had no other emotion apart from humor and platonic love for others. Ultimately, I was sick and tired of being hurt. I had anger, and sadness, and jealousy, and I was sick of hiding it away. So, I wouldn’t be a push over anymore, and within a few silent and short moments, and little hurried words, all those emotions spilled out, along with wet, fat tears and stuttering. With a big shaky breath in, I dryly whispered to the boy.

“Do… do you know how many people pointed and laughed at me? yeah, ‘let’s laugh at the bigger girl, who looks as if she’s never been to a party before’...”

“y/n... come on, you- “

“Sam had to sit with me! Ou-out of pity too! You should’ve been there Johnnie! But you were talking... with some girl… and leaving me behind…”

My once confident voice noticeably cracked towards the end of my sentence, the pain in my tightening chest making itself obvious to Johnnie. The only thing I could think about was how embarrassing this was, being jealous over something out of my control. I wanted to run away and hide, forget this conversation ever happened, maybe even leave the country if I was lucky enough? But I couldn’t just do that, I had to face this at some point, especially since I brought up this whole situation. I would never tell Johnnie how jealous I was, how jealous I was of that unnamed girl, I wouldn’t even tell Tara, one of my closest friends, I vowed take my feelings to the grave with me. Until death. In the sudden silence, I never looked at Johnnie, afraid of what his expression was. Was he disgusted? Humiliated? I was, with myself. My left hand hastily brought itself up to caress my pudgy wet cheeks, trying to hide the mascara filled tear stains that had blossomed in the midst’s of my outburst.

“So, you’re jealous?”

Johnnie’s voice was clearly tired, however, by his groggy and annoyed voice, I simply got the overwhelming feeling of butterflies. Though the feeling of being flustered soon was overcome with anger, and sudden disbelief. Out of everything I said, he came up with the thing I already knew. My jealousy, I wouldn’t tell him that I was of course, it was only fuel for the ego that was taller than he was. The ego that I seemed to hate so much. I wanted to rip all my hair out, asking myself; why couldn’t he just understand me for once? I wanted to slap his pretty little face, I wanted to explode with anger, I wanted to tell him how I’d leave him here to rot alone, though when I opened my mouth, jaw slack, nothing seemed to come out. Nothing but silence. Nothing but heavy breaths, for a long unwanted moment. Then, once again before thinking, a small anger-filled whisper managed to roll itself off my tongue.

“I am not jealous.”

“Then why are you acting like this?!”

His voice sounded desperate for answers, answers I didn’t know if he wanted to hear. He sounded like me, so pained, and upset, but I wondered; Did he want to hear about how scared I am of his feelings, of my own feelings? Did he want to hear that I have loved him for months on end, picturing a future where we stood in front of a suburban home with two kids and a dog? Did he want to hear that I am convinced I am in love with him? Because I believed no one has been in love with him for as long as I have, I believed that my feelings weren’t just a crush. I cried most nights, wondering why I didn’t make a move when we hung out, or why he didn’t compliment me one night when I looked my best, I believed these feelings were not normal. Johnnie needed an explanation to my actions, an explanation to why I had yelled at him, why I was so suddenly aggressive. My e/c eyes cautiously rose to look at his saddened blue ones, and the silence settled once more. With another shaky breath, I explained everything to him.

“Because I’m scared Johnnie. I’m scared of you loving someone else, I’m scared of being hurt, and being forgotten.”

And for the first time that night, I finally felt heard. Johnnie sheepishly nodded at what I said, eyes down casting to the floor and sucking in his lips, deep in thought. This situation had been dragged out for months, years if you looked close enough, and it was so clearly affecting everyone around me, around us. When I told Tara my feelings, she had made a huge effort to pair the two of us together, while Jake would band along with her, contributing to her actions. Though, when Johnnie would decline any offer, I’d get disappointed, I’d be upset, and thoughts would plague my mind. My drowned moods would suffocate everyone else too, them getting a fowl taste in their mouths over the two of us, and our attitudes. Tara would express her concern, and Jake would ask to make it all better for us. And I would decline or ignore them, because it was my issue, not theirs. Now, after months, I was finally addressing it, because I was tired, so tired, tired of running a race that Johnnie never showed up for, tired of putting my all into something I wasn’t benefiting off of.

“So that’s why I’ve been acting like a ‘jealous’ and ‘lonely’ bitch.”

“What if I’m scared too?”

My stomach simply lurched at Johnnie’s hoarse voice speaking above my own. The newer question was brought to my attention. Why was he scared? He didn’t harbor such feelings for me, right? I racked my brain for reasons, reasons for why he would like me, and it slowly started to make sense, slowly started to make itself known to my consciousness. I would remember the way his hand would linger around my own, afraid of touch, or the way he would be ghastly concerned if I drank more than 3 drinks at a party or gathering. The way he would care for me. I always brushed it off as something friends did, I had seen plenty of friends upset over drinking habits, and holding hands, so was it really different for us? I wanted to cry again, cry at the intruding thoughts, though I felt numb now, like I had drained every feeling I once had before. How did I ignore all of this, and was it too late? Too late to apologize and erase all this from my mind? I covered my reddening face with my hands, too embarrassed to face my simple realization, and all the tiredness I was unaware of crashing into my mind like a wild tsunami wave.

“What if I’m scared of dating again? What if I’m scared, I’m going to hurt you?”

Hurt me? Didn’t he already do that enough by making a stupid effort to avoid me? Leaving me confused for the whole night? I didn’t know how to respond to his words, his question, everything I thought of, came off as stand-offish and rude, so all I could do was shake my head bitterly. Obviously, it was fair enough, he could be scared of this, so was I, but by the way he had avoided me tonight, during one of the times I needed him the most, I knew it wasn’t a responsible way to act, it never was. He had hurt me, and gravely, making me rethink everything leading up to this moment. I painfully looked down to the fallen silver car keys, them resting silently on the white floor tiles. While I still tried to cascade my brain and mind for how I could respond to him, in the nicest way possible. Though, the only feeling I could succumb to and notice, was the suffocating feeling of anxiety, and giddiness.

“What if we aren’t meant to be with one another, y/n…?”

“How would you know we aren’t meant to be together, if we haven’t even dated before? There’s only one way to know for sure.”

I muttered out, pinching the bridge of my nose with my pointer and thumb. It didn’t shock me how tired and weak my voice sounded, as yelling and sobs ripped my throat raw, it was very expected. However, due to my attention being diverted on my sore and sickened throat, I didn’t notice Johnnie making his way over to me. I didn’t notice him, until he was standing right in front of me, hands balled at his sides, messy hair, and blue eyes wide with an unrecognizable expression. With a surge of confidence, his right hand softly rested on my shoulder, it wrapping around to the back of my neck and resting there. His fingers gently dug into my skin, strands of h/c hair wrapping around them subconsciously. My eyes instantly flashed up at his touch, anxiety rushing throughout my body. It was so obvious that he was nervous as well, with the sight of his hands shaking, and the adrenaline seemingly pumping through him.

That was when I realized that this was my moment, my moment to show his how much he meant to me. An action, that I would shamefully perform, one kiss. one kiss couldn’t ruin a friendship, right? If it did ruin this, then so be it, because if Johnnie and I were meant to happen, then we would. We would find a way back to one another. So, without a second thought, I took that chance, I took that moment. My hands instantly latched onto his thin tattooed neck, gently forcing his head down and giving him all my emotion through the touching of lips. I had never kissed someone like I did Johnnie that night, I had never kissed someone with so much passion, so much want. I didn’t take the time to hyper-fixate on his body language, barely noticing his shock. I just desperately tried focusing on the continuous buzzing that radiated in my head. What I did notice was how Johnnie reciprocated the kiss, his hand moving from the back of my neck to the side of my face, his fingers so soft. He held me so delicately, as if a porcelain doll, skin so fragile and brittle, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like an art piece, I felt like I was finally someone's muse.

“Woah.”

I didn’t quite know when the pair of us became a trio, or rather a group, though when the familiar and feminine voice of the Tara Tompson filtered into the enclosed area, I had never been so quick to push Johnnie away from myself. Regret settled in my veins, should I had let him go like that, so soon? I could have held him just a little longer, I swore I could, though I didn’t. Behind the short girl, barely shorter than myself, was the tall and stumbling figure of a clearly intoxicated, Jake Webber. His thick scent was laced with weed, cigarette stench, and hard alcohol, giving me the sense that he had only gotten worse due to Johnnie and I’s departure. Though his attention wasn’t focused on me, he was far more interested in Johnnie, with a big, wide, slurred smile, and a lot of emotion in his body language and features. While Tara’s dark gaze was placed on me, and my stiff and uncomfortable posture. Bewilderment. That’s the word I’d use to describe her face, her expression. Was my surge of commitment and bravery really so shocking? I guess I wasn’t exactly outgoing, but I wasn’t that introverted either, I was a loud person, I challenged those who did wrong, so why was this different too?

“See... d-dude! I told you to ju-... ugh- just kiss her!”

Tara hissed frustratedly at Jake’s hiccups, muttering something inaudible from my stance. Though I didn’t care for the words that spilled from her maw, I was to interested in what Jake had said just moments before. ‘I told you,’ So Johnnie had been thinking about this moment, thinking about kissing me before? The knowledge of this had my stomach and chest twisting and fluttering, an uncomfortable, yet giddy, feeling arising more and more within a few short moments. Tara then grumbled at Jake, a loud and aggravated groan leaving her throat when he didn’t seem to be cooperating. After a few sharp whispers, Tara simply apologized to Johnnie and I, and they hastily stumbled away from the two of us, likely to Jake’s room so he could sober up and sleep. The interaction left Johnnie and I standing there alone and slightly stunned, the awkward aroma filling the air. My eyes drifted away from the doorframe to look at Johnnie, but he had beaten me to gaining to others attention. His eyes were already placed on my own, breath heavy and eyes clouded with the little alcohol he had drunk prior. I didn’t know what to say to him, so I whispered an apology.

“’M sorry…”

“I didn’t like her.”

I nodded subconsciously and silently, Johnnie’s strained and quiet words giving me knowledge that he was aware of the other two in the home. Though I didn’t bother acknowledging them, I was far too focused on how horse and rough his voice was, and shamelessly it had complimented his messy and unkept appearance well, or well enough to make my knees weak. His messy dark hair, jarred out wildly, while skimpy blonde roots carefully crept up the strands, barely noticeable. His dark blue make up had been smeared across his face, etched around his bright blue eyes, making them more noticeable than ever. Dark Tattoos writhing their way around his neck, the large black spider mark settling on his throat as if it was a mark since his birth, built to be there. I was staring at him for too long, too quietly. Once I had taken the effort to draw my attention from Johnnie’s attractive personality and expression, I looked down to the cleansed tiled floor. Was that it? After this would we go to bed and forget everything? Did I even want that?

“I like you. Your humor, your appearance, your kindness. I like you… more than a friend.”

“Then quit treating me like I’m less of one.”

Every single word, every single syllable that seeped from his mouth, set off a tiny firework inside of me. Fireworks in my chest, my feelings were the embodiment of the fourth of July. I had never felt so seen as a person, so honored for how I felt, and looked, and only moments prior, I felt invisible to the world. I was so vulnerable, my feelings were overlooked, ignored, and now they were noticed and appreciated more than ever. Overwhelmed, that’s what I was during that moment. Overwhelmed with my own feelings, and Johnnie’s pure ones. How was I to react now? Did I go to bed, or make the effort to hug or kiss him? Before I could make the decision in what I was to do, Johnnie had started to shake his head. His eyes moved away from my own, to the items on the kitchen countertop, him deep in thought and consideration. He opened his jaw to speak again, hand gripping tightly on his skinny jeans as he spoke confidently.

“I’m sorry y/n/n.” I love you.

“I know. I love you too.”

And for the first time in my life, I hadn’t felt like the ‘fat girl’, I felt noticed for more then my humor and weight. Johnnie made me feel wanted and seen. Since that moment, I had taken everything seriously. I took my problems, my life, my achievements, seriously. They all suddenly had purpose to me. I had commitments now, a commitment to Johnnie, a commitment to a lifelong promise that I vowed to never break. Johnnie made promises of his own, promises to never ignore my struggles, to hold me when needed, and the promise that I would always be his. From now until death do us part; And I wouldn't have it any other way.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Ink and Magic - Tactician of the Scalding Sands

Author Notes: Part 4 of this sort of halfway non canon compliant what if with the overblots and their aftermath! A lot of what I said for part 1 counts for this section too. This isn't exactly romantic. in fact, I would say it counts as more platonic, but it certainly can be taken as shippy. This will also be a series, though the Diasomnia section won't come out until that entire matter is resolved in game. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Spoilers for Book 4: Schemer (Tactician) of the Scalding Sands!

[Heartslabyul] [Savanaclaw] [Octavinelle] [Scarabia: Youre Here!] [Pomefiore] [Ignihyde] [Diasomnia: To be released]

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fic series/ Can be platonic or romantic/ fluff/ angst/ comfort/ Spoilers for Scarabia overblot.

Word Count: 1809 Words

The blot monster strained upwards, its giant arms reaching up towards the sky, before it burst apart, splattering ink everywhere as Jamil stood, fighting to stay upright even as everything fell around him.

 Scarabia students were collapsing everywhere as his spell gave way under the immense pressure of the blot monster being defeated, but even then Jamil strained against this defeat.

A frustrated cry ripped itself out of him before he spoke; his breathing labored as he slowly began to succumb to exhaustion, “I was finally going to be number one…”

He stumbled forward, his arms trembling as he looked up first at Kalim before he continued, his voice shaking with emotion that he usually restrained, “I was finally going….”

His gaze shifted and his dark eyes met mine, causing me to go still as he held my gaze with an expression that contorted his handsome, but usually neutral, face into an expression that spoke purely of frustrated anguish.

 And that was when I felt it. The familiar pang of sorrow that would spur me forward even as Jamil finished speaking, “To be free….” 

I was in motion before he’d even finished his lament and began to pitch forward toward the floor. Distantly, I heard Kalim cry out something akin to my name, but he went ignored as I rushed towards Jamil’s already limp form.

I caught him in my arms with a grunt, the weight of his plummeting body forcing me to my knees even as Floyd and Jade appeared on either side of us, one’s mismatched gaze meeting mine before a loopy smile curved across his face. Floyd.

I felt arms supporting me from behind as I was eased the rest of the way to the hard ground. And this time, I did briefly fight it.

I didn’t know why this kept happening, but I shared Ace’s concerns about my connecting to each other overblot victims. But it was too late. I was already slipping away into the dark place where all would be explained.

It wouldn’t be long before I learned exactly what had driven Jamil to the breaking point.

But what greeted me wasn’t darkness this time. Instead, I found myself frowning at an unfamiliar room where two easily recognizable boys were playing a game.

A younger version of Kalim looked up, his wide red eyes sparkling as he gazed at Jamil. Even as a child, his face was full of affection and joy as he leaned towards his playmate, “Hey! Let’s play, Jamil! I’m gonna beat you this time for sure!”

The small Jamil let out a sigh, already worn out from playing whatever game it was that Kalim wanted to continue, and let out a tired protest, “This again, Kalim? You know I’m just going to keep winning. Can we play something else instead?”

Kalim hardly had time to react to Jamil’s tired words before the darker-haired boy had received a harsh rebuke from the two adults present, whom I quickly realized were Jamil’s parents. After all, they looked so similar….

“Jamil! Don’t you take that tone with Master Kalim!”

I cringed in sympathy as the woman swatted at Jamil while the man apologized profusely to the young Kalim, who was looking in startled confusion between Jamil and the two adults, “Master Kalim, thank you for playing with our son.”

Kalim looked perfectly confused and startled as Jamil’s mother also turned to him, a nervous smile on her face, “You’re kind enough to share your company. Truly you’ve been brought up well.”

The woman had barely finished speaking before I heard Jamil’s voice from right next to me, just like the other overblot victims had been when I’d seen their memories. 

“My very first memory as a child was seeing my family bow before Kalim and his parents. I couldn't stand the sight of it.”

His tone was calm, just as I was so used to hearing it be. But what progressed through his memories and narration was deeply entrenched resentment. All towards the cheerful boy who called Jamil his best friend.

It made me wonder exactly how much of who I’d been interacting with was the real Jamil and how much was carefully faked. But in the end, no one could be as calm and unperturbed as Jamil had pretended to be.

I listened and watched patiently, though, learning about Jamil and Kalim’s shared past scene by scene of this odd black-and white-film made up of Jamil’s memories.

Apparently Jamil had been forced to always be second best…

And in many ways, his frustrations reminded me of Leona’s, save for the fact that Leona’s dissatisfaction seemed… Well, more aged. 

Plus, unlike Jamil, Leona’s trouble seemed to be more fueled by the fact he couldn’t succeed. Jamil, on the other hand, seemed more upset that he couldn’t show his numerous skills and talents. Instead, he always had to let Kalim shine while he remained in the background. A vigilant shadow to Kalim’s brightly shining presence.

And perhaps all of it was made worse by the fact that Jamil’s bitterness was tainted by what I could see was clearly genuine affection.

It was obvious from his voice and their interactions that, despite everything, Jamil really did care for Kalim. And how could he not when I could quite literally see the amount of love Kalim held for his retainer?

He was frustrated because Kalim was what was holding him back, and it was obvious that he desperately wanted to hate Kalim. It was also obvious, though, that Jamil deeply cared for the young man who was always cheerful and supportive of him, even if Kalim didn’t realize that he was the one holding Jamil back.

As scenes of Kalim repeatedly talking about how Jamil was the one he trusted most, Jamil’s facade started to crack.

“We’ll keep helping each other out, Jamil!”

The break was restrained at first, with only a slight bit of tenseness to Jamil’s voice as he spoke, “Stop.”

But Kalim didn’t stop. He couldn’t hear Jamil, and he couldn’t see what he was putting his retainer through as he smiled sunshine through each memory. 

And then the last one came. Different from the others in that Kalim was actually showing some seriousness towards his friend, as he smiled in an almost sad way that clearly spoke of how much he meant the words that came from his mouth.

“I know you’d never betray me, Jamil.”

There was no restraint this time as Jamil almost screamed his response, his voice cracking with weighty emotion as he all but pleaded with Kalim, “Just stop!”

I almost grimaced at the raw pain in his voice. Because, as much as he might like to pretend otherwise, I could clearly hear it in his voice and see it in his memories. Jamil didn’t hate Kalim. He may want to, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

And the fact that he couldn’t truly hate Kalim made his situation that much worse.

After all, just like so many adults had said in Jamil’s memories, Jamil was clever. He knew Kalim wasn’t really at fault. Rather, it was the situation.

“Kalim, your mere existence means that I…. I… I have to live my whole life deferring to you!”

I almost flinched at his yell, directed at nothing as the black and white image of Kalim faded out so that now only darkness was visible as Jamil finally broke down.

But I understood it now. Jamil was wracked with guilt, frustration, and pent-up hatred that he couldn’t direct at anyone.

By the end of the narration, Jamil had almost completely broken. 

The last thing I heard was his quiet, broken voice from out of the darkness yet from right beside me, where I couldn’t see him, “I… Even I… I wanted to be number one, too.”

My eyes flew open as I inhaled in slight surprise at the bright lights overhead, and the first thing I heard was Kalim sobbing Jamil’s name and Grim grumbling about something. 

Jamil didn’t wake up immediately, though, and I slowly realized that I was lying on the floor with his arms wrapped loosely around me. 

I pushed myself up, my arms still trembling ever so slightly as I shifted into a sitting position, unable to fully extract myself from Jamil’s hold.

“Ah, Angelish, you’re awake,” Azul's voice came from behind me, but he soon stepped around me. Causing me to look up at him as Floyd and Jade slowly slipped away from Kalim’s side, where he knelt next to Jamil.

Azul’s gaze flickered between me and Jamil before at last coming to rest on me, “So, did it happen with him too?”

I nodded silently, looking down at Jamil’s peacefully slumbering face before speaking quietly, “Yeah… I saw everything.”

Azul pursed his lips at my soft words but straightened, beckoning Jade and Floyd over, “We monitored you while you were out. While we couldn’t wake you, you also didn’t seem to be in any danger. However, it did seem like you were enchanted or something.”

I opened my mouth to respond, half-touched that the three of them had kept a check on me, but I stopped as Jamil groaned slightly and rolled over, one arm sliding off my lap while the other remained curled around where I sat.

“Where am I?” He even sounded groggy as his eyes flickered open and, surprisingly, quickly, landed on me.

I smiled slightly at him as he slowly sat up, his eyes widening as soon as he spotted me before he frowned and a guarded expression appeared on his face.

And he wore that same frown and kept glancing my way during the entire, lengthy explanation. In fact, it wasn’t until Kalim offered to be equals with him and suggested that the two of them should start off as friends once more that Jamil’s focus finally left me so that he could tear into Kalim.

I cringed in sympathy for the pale-haired boy, but I also couldn’t say that I was upset to see Jamil finally letting loose.

After seeing his memories, I’d been concerned about the two young men’s relationship and had wondered how they would move forward. Being totally clear with Kalim would be necessary, and, unfortunately, that would mean Jamil snapping at him sooner or later. 

And, as soon as Jamil’s gaze met mine after telling Kalim that he wasn’t going to hold back anymore and would never throw another competition again, a small part of me wondered if he somehow knew about my concerns.

But my worries about him and Kalim weren’t the only thing on my mind. The more it happened, the more I was beginning to wonder what it was that drew me to these young men who overblotted and why I got to see their memories and hear their thoughts.

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 1: Knifes and Nightmares

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 1.7k words, 1/?? chapters

Summary: At 12 years old, you first dream of the Pale Elf. The encounter scares you and sets you on your path forward.

Ao3 | [Ch2] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

An elf’s reverie is a time of introspection, of connecting to your former selves and their lives, and ultimately learning from them for your new life. When an elf enters this deep trance, the entire world falls away, and memories both good and bad come to them as if in a dream. It’s not always a pleasant experience, but it is often considered a necessary experience for elves to reach full maturity. After 100 years of reliving your past, you are finally acknowledged as a true adult, allowed to forge your way into the world in your new life.

You knew from a young age that you had lived some interesting lives. You received snippets of them each night, and awoke from your trance trying to decipher what each bit could mean, who the people were, which lives might have belonged to you. You found it a fascinating puzzle to solve– you also had the sneaking suspicion you didn’t always like puzzles.

The oddity of a new life is that you aren’t the same person. Of course not. You’re currently being raised by two well-to-do, doting parents living in Neverwinter. You don’t need a lot of memories to know that this is by far one of the most pleasant starts to life you’ve had. In this life, where you weren’t searching for your next meal or living on the streets, you’ve found the capacity to love puzzles.

When your memories suddenly decide to hand you a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, it throws your new life for a loop.

You’re 12 years old, quite used to your nightly reveries now. Your parents have lovingly laid you to rest, and you eagerly enter your trance, ready for another clue about your past selves.

Eyes closed, world shut out, you access tonight’s memory easily.

The first thing you notice is the scent of the ocean. Its smell is a mixture of brine and fish, not unfamiliar to you. Along with the smell, you feel the cool breeze tickling your skin, blowing your hair just within your field of vision.

You feel taller than your current self, older, and bigger. You’re not sure how old you are, but you know that you’re an adult. Despite this, you’re unable to decipher much else.

Reliving a memory is nothing like real life. You can’t control your body, no matter how much you wish you could, you can find yourself coming in and out of these memories, and you can’t force yourself out of a memory once it’s started– it’s all out of your control.

So, as much as you’d like to learn more about your past-self, they’re currently preoccupied. Walking up this winding path, a rocky outcropping with some barren trees and shrubs, they seem to have a clear destination in mind: a figure at the top of the hill. 

They approach the person carelessly, as if nothing in the world could be a danger to them– you wonder if they’re more powerful than some of your other lives. You can tell someone is in tow, but clearly you trust them because you don’t turn around to look.

You reach the figure, a silver-haired elf. He’s strikingly pale, wearing impeccably designed clothing that seems out of place for where you’re finding him. His stance is cautious, ready for anything. Most surprising to you are his eyes, a rich red, and they dart between the bushes and you.

“Hurry! I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” The voice is breathy, masculine, with an accent a bit different from your own. You can’t quite place it, as you’ve never left Neverwinter, but you think you’ve heard it in other lives’ memories. “There, in the grass. You can kill it can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

You feel your own emotions spark at his question, at once alien and familiar, and a surge of confidence radiates through you. “Easily, stand back.” The voice for this life is new to you, but it’s clearly very self-assured. You wonder what the ‘brain thing’ could be to warrant such certainty.

The memory cuts out–not a new occurrence, and your parents explained that lapses in memory could happen around moments of severe emotion as a natural protection. However, when it cuts back in, you’re overwhelmed by the amount of shock and fear coursing through you. You’re on your back, staring up at the same clear blue sky. A flash of silver glints just under your chin, and, as your former-self looks down, you see a knife pressed to your throat. 

You feel your limbs struggle, but the way his legs are wrapped around you, the way he’s leveraging his body weight, you find that you’re unable to get up. Panic rises in your throat as you wonder if this might be your first death. You didn’t realize you could experience death at such a young age– usually this was reserved for your later years of reverie. I’m not ready for this, you think, as you feel both of your body’s hearts pounding in their chests.

“Shhhh,” the man, who is now pinning you to the ground, all but tuts. “Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” His head cranes up, to someone you can’t see. His face and tone shift to something angry as he growls, “And you– Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

“I need them alive. Stow that blade or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.” The voice is feminine, their accent matches this man’s. 

“Promises, promises,” he says with a nonchalance that irks at you. “But I have other business, I’m afraid.”

His attention turns back to you. “Now, I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” the elf continues, his tone is taunting you, knowing he has the upperhand. His next word is a command, “Nod.”

Present-day you, the 12-year-old that just wants to live, wills yourself to nod, to acquiesce to this insane man’s demands and see another dawn. However your past-self has other inclinations. 

Without so much as a word, they headbutt the man. Hard.

You feel the force of it nearly jolt you out of your trance, but you hold on, willing yourself to see if you make it out of this alive. 

The man grunts as he rolls off of you. “Argh. You wretched little–” 

Then your mind is wracked with pain, with flashes of memory that you can’t place. A previous life? You’re not sure. But after the sting of your heads colliding, this strain is too much for your mind to bear. Your vision teeters, hanging on by a single thread, all that’s left are that man’s intense red eyes.

You emerge from your trance with a shaky breath. You reach for your throat, as if to make sure that it’s still in one piece, only to find it coated in a thin sheen of sweat. 

What was that, you think. One thing is for sure: it was quite possibly one of the most vivid memories you think you’ve had yet. The smells, the sensations, the emotions – all of them still linger.

You don’t like it.

Tears begin spilling down your face, an unwelcome reaction to the fear that seems to rest just under your skin, uncomfortable and chilling. Your hands feel like someone else’s, and looking at them shake involuntarily is just about enough to bring you to a breaking point. “Who– who was that?” you get out, to no one in particular.

Verbalizing it helps to soothe your turbulent emotions, look at this logically. Okay, I must have felt quite strongly in that lifetime. You nod to yourself, wiping away tears with a few trembling fingers. More importantly, what did I learn?

You think back to the memories, willing your mind to push past the fear. You met this man. You don’t know who he is, or what he wanted, but he seemed to be armed and dangerous. You had a companion. You don’t know who they were either, but they seemed to be ready to kill for you.

The exercise calms you considerably, and only leaves you with more mysteries than solutions to your puzzle. What ship was he referring to? What was the ‘brain thing’? Whose memories had flashed through your head? 

You shake your head, no, no, none of those likely matter. If there’s one thing your memories have taught you is that specific events are in the past– there’s no use trying to piece it together like a history book. Likely nothing you did was worthy of a history book anyway. What you need to know would be infinitely more useful: who were you?  

You’d been confident, unshaken despite the fear pulsing in your body. You’d faced that terrifying man as if he were just another inconvenience, one that you were thoroughly fed up with.

You don’t know much of your former selves but you know that you want to be that. You don’t want to cry when faced with certain death. You want to headbutt it.

__

Years pass, and you work hard at training in the arcane arts, finding comfort in books and wizardry. You wonder if that will be enough to keep you safe in this life, safe from people like that silver-haired madman. Every time your will falters, you remember that memory and study harder. He becomes a figure in your mind of the dangers of the world, of something to fuel your fury when it begins to burn low. 

He’s nothing more to you than that silver-haired man for more than six years, as that particular lifetime of memories seems to lay dormant. Your parents have explained this to you before: you can’t control which life’s memories come to the forefront. To many, it seems arbitrary. To you, it feels like your mind is defending you. As if it realized you aren’t ready for that particular part of your past. Or perhaps it just knows that your hatred for this fair-haired elf may take over your current life.

The next time you’re visited by a memory of this pale elf, you find that the emotions he elicits are far from hatred.

[channieandhisgoonsquad]

Han Jisung gives me so much vibes of "friends to lovers with heavy sexual tension". Like, you guys are best friends and trust each other blindly for everything. You act like siblings, until you lost contact for some reason and, when you guys meet again, you start to see each other in different lights

I recently watched The Summer I Got Pretty season two and while I can't fucking stand the MC, I think Jisung fits the vibes of the boys

Title: Your Foolish Mind (part 1)

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: all of the angst, so much sadness

Comments: Okay, don't come at me for this, but this is part one I SWEAR! I will write more! I just wanted to get this little drabble out in the air. You know me, I love a little drabble that leaves readers on the edge of their seats with sweat dripping down their foreheads.

You swore your eyes were deceiving you. Of course, you knew you had lived in the same city, but the last time you had talked was when you were sixteen. Is that really Han Jisung?

As you sat in the local cafe enjoying your matcha latte, you just kept staring at the man that sat at the table across the way. He looked like him, kinda. He was wearing a bucket hat and looked like he was trying to remain incognito. You knew why, you were online just as much as the next young adult.

But, being the considerate human, you didn’t want to just approach this person because it could be someone else or you could be exposing the young idol. So, you decided to do what any unsure person would do.

You got up to get a stirring stick for your hot latte that you didn’t need. As you walked directly in front of his table, he didn’t look up at all.

Siiiigh.

As you stood at the condiments table, full of things you didn’t need, you debated on the stupidity of your antics.

Sure, this could be your old best friend from high school that you had always felt things for. He was so funny and so sweet to you, despite him being full of himself. But, in your eyes, it was totally understandable. That kid was going places, and you knew it.

The two of you were so close that your families knew each other and knew your favorite snacks and movies.

But, as soon as he started doing a lot more at JYPE, he didn’t have time to hardly be at classes anymore and you missed him.

When you had processed that your best friend just didn’t have time to see you anymore, you allowed yourself to hang out with some of the other friends you had. You stilled talked to him, but it wasn’t the same when you accepted your differences in paths.

While you were thinking about your past with him, a man reached past you to grab some sugar and you felt like such a weirdo just staring at the table. So, you grabbed your stirrer to make sure you didn’t just leave with nothing.

As you turned around, you came up with one last ditch effort to get noticed. You walked past the table and dropped your stick dramatically.

“Ahh shit.” You mumbled as you reached down to grab the stick that had fallen. As you crouched, you also cringed at how dumb you are. All to figure out if this man might be someone you used to-

“Y/n?” You heard softly spoken from above you.

You looked up to see the man in question. As he stared into your eyes, you realized those were indeed the same doe eyes you had fallen for years ago.

"Oh my god, it is you!" He continued as you remained shocked at both the fact that it is him and that your plan worked. The man stood and reached for your hand to lift you and pull you into a full embrace. You just stood there like a statue as his hug encompassed you, "Please sit with me!"

"Han? Oh! Yeah, let me grab my things." You scurried away, now consumed with thoughts of how you were supposed to handle being so good at this small manipulation. You didn't actually think of what you would say to him; the man you let leave your life without a second thought.

As you returned, Han pulled the empty seat across from him out and helped you place all your things. He had pulled the mask off his face so that you could see how happy he was at this surprise. His cheeks were still as fluffy as you remember, if not a little more shaped with his maturity.

"So, y/n, how have you been? I feel like we haven't really talked since sophomore year." He began, seemingly a little nervous as he fidgeted with the hem of the sleeve of his big sweater.

You smiled sadly at the comment, remembering that it had indeed been that long because of your decision. "We definitely haven't spoken since we were sixteen, but I've been well. Nearly done with college and trying to decide what comes after. How are you?"

"Wow. I feel like it was just yesterday you accidentally spilled a whole pot of ramen on the kitchen floor, and I took the fall so my mom would let you keep coming over. What ever happened to us? We used to be so close and then you were just not around anymore. I've been okay; busy with my music."

Oh god, you didn't expect him to notice, let alone bring it up. You thought he had been too busy to notice you fade out of his life. The tears were threatening to make an appearance just like they had when you made the executive decision to stop talking to him. "Oh. Well, you were busy back then, too. I'm sure it just came with our different paths. I'm glad you've gotten to do your music. I've been proud ever since I heard you were debuting."

His smile faded, but the picking at his clothes didn't stop. You knew his ticks and always tried to stop them when you were little. "No... I tried to reach out. I would show up to your house, but your parents said you weren't there or were out with others."

Fuck. Anytime he cries, you cry. He can't do this to you. "... I'm sorry."

"What did I do, y/n? Why did you leave me behind?" He whispered, looking down into his coffee mug, spinning it in circles on the plate it came with. You know he wasn't looking at you because he would start crying too.

"Han, we don't need to talk about-"

"I do," He said weakly as he looked up at you. The tears piling up in the crease of his eyes. His devastation would be your downfall, "I was so in love with you. Part of me always has been even after you broke my heart for no reason. You didn't know, probably, that I loved you. You aren't that cruel are you?"

That's it. How could he say this to you? It had been years since you spoke. And now, he has the audacity to confess his love for you. Your tears broke through. And as you wiped them away with the back of your hand, you felt anger. Anger at yourself for not giving him a say, anger that he didn't try harder, anger that he was saying this to you in such a public place.

"I can't- I just- I can't do this." You grabbed your bag and turned away to walk out the door. Tears falling steadily past your cheeks and into your open mouth as you panted from the heaviness that you had pressed against for so long. The salty taste wasn't even noticed as you swung the exit door open and tried to make a quick exit. You chose to go to your right, not caring where you were headed.

You could hear the desperate man behind you. His steps getting louder as he ran in front of you and stopped you where you stood.

"No!" He exclaimed sharply with his pointer finger aimed at your chest, "You don't get to walk away again without answering that one simple question. Nor do you get to cry about whatever this is! Just tell me what I did wrong, please?"

You huffed, trying to regain some composure, but it was impossible with his beautiful face becoming discolored and blotchy from his emotions bubbling forth in such a traumatic way. He was meant to be this handsome man that you only dreamed about. But now, you didn't know what to say or what to do.

But, you can't lie to him. That's probably why you just let yourself fade away from his life without a word. " You- you were just so busy between classes and your idol trainee things that I felt like I was taking up space where I didn't belong. Your path didn't have room for little old me. You know I can't lie to you. So, I just walked away. Despite the huge crush I had on you, which made me more absolute that I would get my feelings crushed in the end.

"All of those beautiful idol girls that wanted to hang out with you! I stood no chance. I'm so boring-looking compared to them. My life wasn't going anywhere fun like yours; I'm about to graduate as a pediatrician for god's sake!

"You need someone that understands the lifestyle and can handle it and make you happy. I know I was destined to be the childhood friend that was forgotten, or the girl that confessed her feelings and left anyways. It was just too much for-"

"Wait, you're talking so fast, y/n. Did you say you had a crush on me?" He grabbed your shoulder to emphasize his need to speak.

"Yeah, I did. crush might be putting it lightly, but I wanted you around me for the rest of our lives."

"I knew we were both dumb teenagers, but you're really taking first place in that competition." He cackled to himself while he wiped away his years with his sweater-covered hand.

"What?!" You punched him in the chest, a normal response to his teasing from when you were children. "You can't call me dumb! I just told you I had feelings for you!"

"Yah! So did I! Wait, you said did? As in, past tense?"

The air between you was tense and uncomfortably quiet as you took in his question. His face was still red, but the tears had stopped, as had yours. You looked into his eyes once again, remembering the butterflies he always gave you when he shifted his tone form silly to serious with the agility of a track star.

"I mean... It felt like a 'did' until you called my name in the shop. But how could I ever not feel weak to the knees when you look at me? If I had known-"

"Fuck, y/n, if I had known the real reason, I would've kissed you in front of everyone the next time I saw you in that hallway. I thought you hated me..."

You reached out to wipe off a singular tear that had escaped just then but retracted out of nervousness. Han wouldn't allow that though and pulled your arm back up to his face to cup his soft cheek. You wiped it away carefully, "I could never hate you, Hannie."

He spoke clearly, "I would've made sure there was room for you in my life. I would've quit my training to make sure you knew how important you were to me."

You scoffed, "I would've never allowed that. I would've walked right up to JYP-nim himself and asked him to take you back."

"Hell yeah you would've. You always stuck up for me when my anxiety got the best of me." He smiled as you continued to caress his cheek with such tender care that he thought he was dreaming. "Can I kiss you? I want to see if it's as good as I always wanted it to be."

"Please do... I hope I don't disappoint you." You stepped closer, placing your other hand on his shoulder while he grabbed both sides of your neck with his own.

"You could never."

My Spooky Pookies: @lyramundana @2chopsticks2eyes @sweetracha @moonlightndaydreams @linlinaert @caitlyn98s @stolasisyourparent @queenmea604 @diorrxluvskz @noellllslut @queen-in-the-shadows @antoniorhinothethird @chaotic-world-of-the-j @its-hannjisung @myprwttyhan

[hairrington]

The Last Thing Ever Lost

Summary: Years after escaping from the lab with Eleven, you've found a home in Hawkins. When you, your boyfriend, Steve, and the rest of your friends come to realize that a new monster, Vecna, is cursing the town, you do everything you can to stop it. But when the mission takes a turn for the worse, Steve is the only one who can bring you back.

Female reader with powers and protective boyfriend Steve who would do anything for her. Requested by anon. Angst & hurt/comfort. Mentions of blood, injuries, and the S3 torture scene. Gif credit to smallscreensource.

The word "normal" means nothing to you. It never has.

You had grown up staring at white walls, playing games of chance, and being subjected to test after test after test.

When you escaped from the laboratory with Eleven, you didn't know what was coming your way, but you knew anything was better than the prison you'd two been living in.

You'd been introduced to everyone then, from the young kids who had first given you shelter, to the older siblings and adults, who had fought alongside you.

You'd been envious of Eleven's ability to create connections with the new people you had met. Even with all the help you'd received, you were much slower to trust. You had an inkling that it was because you were older than Eleven, and had grown out of the childhood naivety she still seemed to have.

But naivety wasn't the right word. Hope was.

El had the ability to move things with her mind and see things without being there, whereas you had to touch things to use your power. When you contacted a thing or a person, you could search their history, learn the truth about them, feel what they feel. And you could change their emotions in the blink of an eye, but that took a considerable amount of energy.

You didn't like using your powers on people. Things were okay, but people? You didn't feel right digging and travelling through their minds.

After the grueling battle with the Demogorgon, with El fighting the monster and you keeping your hand to the portal to tell her its every next move, Hopper took both of you in and you were in hiding for nearly a year together. It was hard for Eleven. She had gotten close with her new friends and was desperate to get back to them.

You, on the other hand, were just happy to have a home. Hopper and Eleven were the only people you truly trusted. You thought fondly of those who helped you - one person in particular - but didn't have the same urge to reunite with them that Eleven did.

It wasn't until after Eleven had ran away and returned, allowing a chance for you to come face to face with the others in Hawkins who you'd previously tackled the Upside Down's creatures with, that you realized how much you actually did miss everyone.

Including Steve. Especially Steve. God, there was something special about that boy.

When Steve watched you walk through that door at the Byers home, his heart nearly stopped.

Nearly a year. A year. He thought you were dead and seeing you in the flesh, looking around the room, seemingly nervous, made him want to wrap you in his arms.

But he didn't have that right. The two of you had barely spoken. But even when he reminded himself of that, he had an impulse to be near you, to protect you.

He tried to chalk it up to the break-up. Nancy had just dumped him, so maybe he was just eager to find love?

But he knew that wasn't the case. Not with you.

When you’d entered the room, you met his eyes and felt a pull to him. But you ignored it, figuring it was just sentimentality, and you quickly left with Eleven and Hopper to close the gate.

At the end of that exhausting and dreadful night, everyone reconvened at the Byers home.

A group of you had scrounged up a meal with what you could find in the kitchen, then moved to the living room to eat together. After the late dinner, full of overlapping conversations that you preferred to listen to than join, you stepped outside on the front porch, waiting for Hopper and El so that you could get back to his cabin. To your home.

You breathed in the night air, the sounds of crickets filling your ears.

Steve had noticed you slip out through the door. In fact, he'd noticed you all night with that faraway look in your eyes. He took the risk of rejection and followed, finding you standing outside in the hot summer night, gazing ahead at the front yard and beyond.

"Hi," he simply said.

You looked over at the man, dried blood splotched on his handsome face. He had a black eye and a swollen lip. It was obvious he had been beaten to a pulp.

He shut the door behind him.

"Hi," you echoed, surprised to see him out there. Had he felt drawn towards you like you did towards him? "What happened?" You vaguely motioned at your face. You'd noticed the second you got back that he had obviously been in some sort of fight.

Steve half-frowned, pacing to stand about a foot away from you, facing the front yard to mirror you.

"This guy Billy," Steve said, waving a hand and seemingly trying to downplay the fight. "You can see for yourself, right?"

Steve had been intrigued by your abilities - he'd heard about them but never saw them in action and for some reason, he trusted you enough to be a guinea pig. He held out his hand, looking at you with curious eyes.

You gave a small smile, holding his hand, which was calloused from swinging his bat around, and closed your eyes, focusing on what had happened that night and that night only. You didn't want to risk digging into anything else - nothing personal, nothing you weren't invited to see.

You were plunged into the fight with Steve and a blonde man, feeling Steve's anger and protectiveness over the kids he was babysitting. You felt every punch, both given to and given by Steve.

You watched his memory through your eyes - waking up in the car discombobulated, Max driving, Steve shouting.

Suddenly, you had caught a glimpse of this evening, and felt Steve's worry... for you. He was drawn to you, concerned for you, and you quickly let go with a gasp, feeling wrong for seeing that far. You didn't mean to.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

You wiped the dribble of warm blood from your nose, and nodded quickly, unable to hold back the smile growing on your face at the knowledge that Steve was interested in you.

"Max drove, huh?" you mumbled with a smile.

"Yeah, did you see me freaking out?" Steve said, impressed as all hell that you could see that without him saying a word. You nodded, smile still on your face, in confirmation.

"It's really good of you to have watched the kids like that," you say, admiring him. You'd just felt the intensity of his steadfast determination to take care of them.

"Lost a fight doing it," Steve joked, smiling through the pain of his fat lip.

"Looked like a tie to me," you said. Steve gave you a sweet chuckle. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to see it but..." you began. "You're worried about me?"

Steve's eyes darted away and he let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

"I know it's stupid," he said. "I bet you’re a thousand times stronger than me. You could kick my ass if you wanted to." You smirked, looking back out into the night sky, arms crossed.

"It's not stupid," you said. You looked back at the messy-haired boy. "It's sweet."

He finally met your eyes again, the nervous blush in his cheeks apparent. It sent another pang of guilt through you.

"Sorry, I really didn't mean to see... that far," you admitted. "This is why I don't really read people. Good people, I mean."

Hearing himself described as "good" made Steve's chest warm with delight.

"I don't think it's right to poke around in their head," you continue. "I just tried to focus on that fight but... my concentration kind of sucks right now."

"Hey, I invited you in here," Steve said, pointing to his temple. The two of you shared a chuckle and you realized you really, really liked being in Steve's company.

"So you know what I think about you? Just from touching me? That's unreal," Steve said, more so impressed than anything. "Remind me to never lie to you."

His childlike amazement in your abilities was pretty endearing.

"You're safe," you said with a smile that Steve could only describe as adorable. "I only do it with permission."

Steve dug his hands into his pockets and tried to shoo away the butterflies in his stomach, mentally telling himself to be cool.

"Are you going to still be living at Hopper's?" he asked.

"Yeah," you told him. "I guess not in hiding anymore, though."

Looking at him, you had felt his genuine interest in you, and could already tell that he'd become someone you'd be able to trust.

"How's that?"

"It's..." How do you describe it? How could you explain just how different it is from the torture you endured at the lab? You felt a tightness in your throat as you thought back on how you'd been saved by Hopper.

"It's home," is what you finally settled on.

The front door creaked open and you both shot your eyes towards the noise to see Hopper with one foot out on the porch.

"There you are," he said with relief. You didn't miss the glare he gave Steve. "We're leaving."

You gave Steve a small smile and left with Hopper and El. You couldn't stop thinking about Steve after that. And he couldn't stop thinking about you.

Within a week, life had gotten better. You were no longer in hiding. You started actually going outside. The first time El and Max went to the mall, you joined them, feeling like a babysitter kind of like Steve did.

When you walked through the massive building and passed Scoops Ahoy, your heart leapt at the vision of Steve behind the counter.

"Ooh, ice cream!" Max said. "Come on, let's haggle Steve for a discount."

You giggled, following the excited girls into the ice cream parlor. Steve handed an ice cream cone to the customer in front of you, then when he met your eyes, he felt two things: elation and embarrassment. He was so happy to see you. But man, he hated how he looked in his dorky uniform.

He didn't know that you found it extremely cute.

"Hey," he said, looking at you and only you.

"Hi." It'd been a week since you had your conversation at the Byers house, but if felt like it's been ages.

"Rocky road in a cone, please," Max said. "And...?"

"Me too,” El said. They both looked up at you.

"Oh, I'm okay," you said, out of sorts.

"It's on the house," Steve said quietly with a little jerk of his head.

"What the hell?" Max asked. "You always say you can't do that because you'll get in trouble."

Steve raises his eyebrows, looking down at the young redhead.

"(Y/N) is... a first-time customer," he stammered.

"Yeah, so was I and I still had to pay," she argued.

"Well, that's because you're rude," Steve told her. You and El laughed at their bickering.

You interrupted with your favorite ice cream flavor.

"In a cup, please," you said with a smile. He smiled back and in that moment, you wished you could break your own rules just for a second and touch him to see if he felt the same giddy way that you felt.

After getting your ice cream, the three of you sat at a booth. Steve stole glances at you from across the counter the whole time, completely infatuated and getting several orders wrong.

Going to the mall became a regular hobby of yours. You let Max and El know they could go enjoy themselves; seeing their friendship bloom was endearing to you.

This, of course, gave you an opportunity to go to Scoops Ahoy as much as possible. Even with your history of being afraid to trust people, there was something about Steve that pulled you in and assured you that he was someone worthy of trust.

You'd met Robin and became good friends with her and Steve, which led to them treating you like a fellow employee, inviting you to hang out in the break room when the manager was gone and eat as much ice cream as you wanted.

Over the next month, your feelings for Steve had grown. You seldom had opportunities to be alone with him and it was borderline painful.

Finally, one day, you had the courage to write the phone number to the cabin on a piece of paper. Once you got the opportunity to speak to Steve privately - Robin was helping customers and he was stocking new cups in the back - you walked up to him and handed him the small parchment.

"If you ever want to talk," you said shyly.

Steve looked down at the paper with a dopey grin.

"Yeah, I do," he said. You nervously smiled and left the ice cream parlor.

He called you that night. Hopper had left, vaguely telling you and El that he had "something to do", and El took the opportunity to invite Max over for a sleepover.

You and El had shared a bedroom, but with Hopper gone, you took the phone to his bedroom, and when it rang, you shut the door. You could hear El and Max talking and giggling from a room away, and made a mental note to speak at a low volume.

"Hello?" you said.

"(Y/N)? It's Steve." His voice made you smile already.

"Hi."

"I first just want to say that I'm a wuss."

"What?" you laughed.

"I've been thinking about asking you out for... a long time," he said. "But obviously you had to make the first move."

He didn't want to say it, but flirting with girls hadn't exactly been hard for Steve in the past. But there was something about you that made him so cautious, so determined on doing everything perfectly.

"I don't know," you said. "I think that night at Will's house... you made the first move by coming out and talking to me. Plus you fight monsters. You're no wuss."

"How are you the nicest girl in the world?" Steve whispered. You smiled to yourself.

"You think that?" you asked.

"I know it."

You put your hand on your stomach, as if the action could slow down the warm, fuzzy feeling Steve gave you.

"So, how was the rest of your shift today?" you asked.

The conversation went from light surface topics - how your days went, to what Steve's introduction to the kids was like, to how infuriating and wonderful those kids were - then just as slowly as the night fell, the topics had gotten heavier and more serious.

When the conversation had slowly taken a turn to discuss the Upside Down, you could hear Steve's smile disappear from his tone.

"What was it like?" he asked.

He didn't have to say "the lab". You knew that's what he meant.

"Even though it was the same thing over and over... I don't know, it somehow got even worse every day," you told him honestly. You described the horrific scene the day you and El had escaped, and Steve listened on the other end, his heart tightening at your story.

"I'm sorry," Steve said quietly. "I'm sorry you were put through that."

So were you. You were robbed of a normal life. You saw orderlies in the corner of your eye everywhere you went. You saw monsters in your nightmares, ripping you apart.

"I'm happy now," you told him. And you were being honest. At that moment, Steve silently made a promise to himself to do all he could to keep you happy.

After you had spoken about your childhood, you asked Steve about his. He shared the good first, but when he began to speak about the bad, his voice was quieter.

"It wasn't all great," Steve said. "But compared to what you had to go through, what so many people have to go through, I know how lucky I am."

"You can feel lucky and unlucky at the same time," you told Steve. "We don't need to compare. Please tell me."

Hearing that made Steve feel like you truly were the kindest soul in the world.

"I was a pretty lonely kid," he admitted. "You know that cliché that's like 'even when they're there, they're not there'? It was like that with my mom and dad all the time." Sadness filled you as Steve spoke. "I don't know, I feel like I barely know them. And they barely know me."

"Well, they're missing out," you said.

"What, on my pity party?" he asked. You shared a laugh.

"That does sound lonely, Steve," you said after a beat of silence.

"Well, like you, I'm happy now," he said.

The conversation continued, and when he joked, he made you laugh like nobody could, causing your cheeks to hurt for smiling too much.

When you finally couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, you told Steve the disappointing news.

"I should sleep," you said.

"It's not even that late, is it?" Steve asked. Your heard his mattress creak on the other side of the line. "Holy shit, it's 2 am."

You laughed together, then let a comfortable silence settle between you. You had been talking for hours.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked.

"I've been at Scoops way too much," you joked, hoping he'd tell you he still wanted you there. He did.

"Too much doesn't exist," he said. "Please come. If you can."

You giggled.

"I can."

Peace had been shattered the very next day when the Mind Flayer returned, and to make matters worse, Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Erica had disappeared before you got to deliver on your promise to Steve that you'd see him at Scoops Ahoy.

On the night of the Starcourt fire, you had arrived at the mall with the kids and Jonathan and Nancy, determined to kill the monster once and for all.

When you had finally reunited with the missing four who you had later learned had been deep beneath the mall, your heart leapt. You ran to Steve, who gaze was on the ground. When he noticed you, he took in a big breath, his nerves calming immediately.

"What happened? Where were you?" you ask, hands on Steve's cheeks. Your grip was light so not to hurt him. His soft hair brushed against your fingertips.

His eyelids were low; he was exhausted and swollen and beat up. You were so worried about him, but so happy he was standing in front of you, alive.

You could feel the others' eyes on you, but you didn't care. Robin finally beckoned the others away to give you privacy, and you heard them chattering behind you.

"You can check," Steve said, putting a warm hand overtop of yours as it rested on his cheek. "Everything. You have permission."

So, you did. Eyes closed, your mind travelled through his and dove in what had happened that night. An elevator crashing down. A brutal and violet soldier. A forced drugging. A narrow escape.

"Oh, Steve," you groaned, feeling your lip quivering.

You felt his agony, his fear, and his yearning for you. He sat tied up in that chair, taking punch after punch, thinking about you to gain some semblance of solace. You so badly wanted to feel more, but it felt intrusive, so you willed your mind to stop and opened your eyes to meet his.

"I'm so glad you're okay," you whispered.

He rose his hand, swiping the blood that had fallen from your nose off of your upper lip.

"We match," he said, holding his thumb in front of you, your blood smudged on it. How he could make jokes at a time like this was beyond you, but it was part of the reason you liked him so much.

"I'm sorry that happened," you said, palms still on his cheeks. "I can make you feel better. With..." You raised your hands off his face. "With these, if you want." You both chuckled.

"Please," he groaned. You put your hands back on his cheeks and focused, giving him hope, bravery, and happiness. He needed the first the most. It drained you of your already low energy, but he was worth it.

"Wow, thank you," he whispered, stepping a little closer to you, pressing his forehead to yours. "Thank you,” he said again. "How are you?"

"Better now," you said honestly.

"Same," he said with a chuckle.

"Hate to interrupt, lovebirds, but we kind of have a monster to kill!" a voice had called. You turned back to see Erica with the group ten feet away, her hands on her hips.

You couldn't help but smirk, leaning back, staring at Steve.

"To be continued," you said, lowering your hands.

The battle was grueling, but the Mind Flayer had been defeated. By the time the flames had grown and licked the night sky, you were all safely out of the mall, being looked at by paramedics.

Steve had been patched up and taken care of and immediately went looking for you. Sure enough, you were sitting on the back of an ambulance, getting some cuts on your face cleaned and bandaged.

He took a second to look at you, wrapped in the metallic-looking safety blanket and looking beautiful as ever. When the paramedic left your side, Steve paced over, sitting next to you, his own blanket draped around him.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi." Even with your exhaustion, you could never be too tired to smile at him.

"Can we continue now?" Steve asked.

"What?"

"You said to be continued," he explained.

"Oh," you giggled. "Yeah, we can."

"I think where we left off, we were about to kiss," he whispered. Butterflies in your stomach went mad.

"Were we?" you teased. He only nodded adorably.

You inched closer, sharing your first kiss with Steve Harrington, gentle to not hurt his lip. Everything about it was perfect. Since then, the two of you had been inseparable.

Now, Vecna had been terrorizing Hawkins, shattering the peace yet again. Hopper had been presumed dead and Eleven had left for California, leaving you alone in the cabin with a massive piece missing from your heart. Now, innocent people were dying at the hands of this creature.

After you, Steve, Max, Lucas, Dustin, Nancy, and Robin arrive at Victor Creel's house, you think that even if you didn't have your abilities, you'd still feel the dark, sinister energy within the building.

You enter the dusty, grand home, eyes travelling over the old furnishings.

"There's the clock," Max says. "I saw it when..." She didn’t have to finish her sentence.

The group of you pace towards the grandfather clock, frozen in time. Robin runs a hand over the glass surface of the face of it, shifting the dust.

"It's stuck," Steve says.

"What, you expected it to be working?" Dustin asks him. You shoot Dustin an unimpressed look, and he puts his hands up in surrender, sighing.

Steve notices and he gives you a small grin. You don't like anyone messing with your boyfriend, not even Dustin.

You step in front of the clock, hand stretched out, before Steve steps in front of you, blocking you.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Steve asks. "If Max saw it in her visions, maybe... I don't know, it's got some whacko powers or something."

"Your girlfriend has whacko powers, too," Dustin says.

"Nothing about her is whacko," Steve says, pointing in the air.

"I'm a little whacko, it's okay, Steve," you say, gripping the end of his shirt between your fingers and smiling. "If we want to get to the bottom of this, we need to learn more about Vecna's connection to this place, right?"

You knew that look on Steve's face: he so badly wanted you to reconsider, but he knew you'd do what was best. What was kindest. That's why he loved you.

"I'm right here," he whispered, squeezing your hand and getting out of your way.

As soon as your fingertips made contact with the clock, you were plunged into horror. You were taken through a flashback of Henry Creel, a troubled and cruel little boy. You watch as he kills animals, torments his family, and murders his sister and mother.

Meanwhile, to the others, you'd been standing at the clock, eyes closed, silent. Nearly an entire minute had passed, but it was seconds to you.

"Okay, that's been long enough," Steve says, holding onto your wrist. You're unresponsive. He grips tighter, but you’re suspended in another world, eyes still shut. "She's never been out this long," he says, tone concerned as he looks to the group.

In your mind, you suddenly see Brenner. It shocks you. The vision takes you through a spine-chilling realization. Vecna is Henry. And Henry was one of Brenner's subjects - just like you.

"What are you doing here?" a raspy, terrifying voice rings through your ears. You feel his presence flood your brain like a poison, going into every crevice.

You’re in the Creel house, in the same spot in front of the clock, but back in time in the night when Henry had killed his family. You turn and you watch the young boy coming down the stairs, turning into the horrifying monster it is now with every step.

"Oh my God," you mutter. Vecna finds his way in your mind - the violation makes you scream. 

But on the outside, to your boyfriend and your friends, you’re quiet and still.

“(Y/N), come back! Please,” Steve whines as he gets between you and the clock again, holding your hand tightly. Your eyes remain shut. “Can you hear me?” he half-shouts.

“You were a subject too?” Vecna growls to you. You feel him slipping into your memories of the lab. “That’s how you got in here. In my mind. Well, you’re not welcome!” The last words are screamed at you and you can’t move as Vecna screeches inches away from your face.

You will all your strength, all your power to pull yourself out of the daze. As you struggle and shake, feeling your insides twist, a voice becomes louder. It’s Steve’s.

“(Y/N), please!” he shouts. At this point, his hands are on your face, and he’s doing anything, anything he can. He plants gentle kisses on your still lips, pulls you in tightly, keeps talking. “Please, please, come back.” It’s like hugging a statue.

Half of the group members are frantically shouting your name, too, while the other half are running around the house, desperate to find anything that could help you. Steve pulls back to look at you again, and he notices the blood trickling down your nose.

Your eyes suddenly fly open, but the effort you’ve put into pulling yourself out of the memory makes you see black and faint immediately. Steve catches you before you hit the ground.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself bouncing in Steve’s arms. He’s cradling you and panting as he runs outside, and you slowly open your eyes to notice he’s running away from the Creel house.

He looks down at you and when he notices you’re awake, his breath hitches.

“Oh my God,” Steve says, relief thick in his voice. “Are you okay?”

You’re confused, lost, and look around to see he’s arrived at his car. Dustin opens the passenger side door so that Steve can gently place you inside. 

“We were about to go to the hospital,” Steve says. “You passed out.”

“What did you see?” Nancy asks.

“Give her a second,” Steve says, kneeling down on the ground outside the BMW, clasping your hand. You stare down at him, at his brown-green eyes, slowly coming back to reality. Steve’s eyes are glassy, his chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he’s looking at you like he almost lost his own life.

You look at your boyfriend sympathetically. He’s seconds away from tears.

“Don’t give me that look,” Steve says, a little smirk on his face. He knows you well enough to know you’re feeling sorry for him, and it’s amusing to him that he’s the one getting sympathy right now. “You’re the one who just... did that.”

You mirror his smile. Relief fills you when you realize you were able to pull yourself out of the vision.

“Did what?” you ask.

“You were like... a statue or something,” Dustin interjects.

“For how long?” you ask, head pounding.

“Like a full minute, at least,” Robin says.

“Maybe even longer,” Nancy adds.

“Definitely longer,” Lucas says.

“Did you see him?” Max asks. You meet her eyes and nod your head solemnly.

“Vecna, he’s...” You swallow hard. “He’s Victor’s son. He’s Henry. And he was in the lab. Like me and El.”

The truth settles on everyone in the group, thick and discordant. 

“He’s the one who killed them. And he... he screamed at me for being in his mind. In his memories. He went into mine, too,” you rambled, bringing a shaking hand to your head.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” You look up to see Dustin staring at you seriously. “We know who he is - or who he was - and now, we’ll figure out how to stop him.” All six of your friends nod, giving you compassionate, grateful looks.

You offer a small smile, looking down at your lap.

“Let’s call it for today, huh, guys?” Steve says, posing it like a question even though you know it’s a statement. In Steve’s book, his girlfriend has been through enough today.

Your head heavy, you put your seatbelt on and let your eyes close so you can sleep away the fatigue.

The sound of a car door closing is what pulls you out of your slumber. 

Your eyelids flutter open and you gauge your surroundings to see that you’re in front of Steve’s home. You watch as Steve rounds the car and when he opens the door and sees you’re awake, he gives you a tender smile.

"You woke up just in time,” he says softly.

You undo your seatbelt and step outside into the warm afternoon. Steve takes your hand and shuts the door behind you, still afraid for your stability, and you walk towards the massive Harrington house.

“Did everyone go home?” you ask.

“Mostly,” he says. “Dustin and Lucas and Max got dropped off together - plotting for our next move, no doubt. Nancy and Robin went separately and I bet they’ll meet them, too.”

“Should I help?”

“You heard Dustin,” Steve says, putting the key into the door and unlocking it. “You helped so much, (Y/N). I think you’ve done enough today.”

You entered the empty home and he led you to the first seat available, which was the couch in the front room. He was petrified that you’d fall again.

To Steve, you were and always are the top priority. He feels immense guilt for what the trip to the Creel house had done to you. And he doesn’t even have to say it out loud for you to know.

“You tried to stop me, Steve,” you console him. He sits next to you and you face each other on the plush, white couch. You put a hand on his knee. “I knew the risk and I’m glad I took it.”

He wants to say he’s not glad, but he feels selfish for even thinking it.

Steve swallows hard, looking down at your hand and slowly squeezing your fingers, one by one, a habit he had long ago developed. Your eyes travel his face, looking at the beauty spots you’ve memorized.

“What did it feel like?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

“Like... my mind was broken into,” you tell him. “I can’t believe I was able to get out of there.”

“I can,” Steve says, looking up to meet your gaze. “You have no idea how strong you are, do you?”

You smile, tilting your head.

“You still think I’m a thousand times stronger than you?” you ask. He smiles, leaning down to go from squeezing each finger to kissing them and thinking back to that night when you had had your first conversation.

“A million times stronger,” he says. You feel his lips on your knuckles, his warm breath on the back of your hand.

“I heard your voice in there,” you tell him. “You helped pull me out, you know that?”

Steve’s head perks up, eyes swimming with adoration.

“Really?” he asks. You nod. “I don’t ever want to see you like that again. I’m sorry if that makes me selfish.”

“I know, Stevie,” you say, the nickname making him melt. “You’re not selfish for that. I love you.”

“Say it again,” Steve mumbles into your hand. You smile, used to this routine of his. He loves hearing those three words from you. You lean in, lowering down to nuzzle your face into his neck, your hand on the back of his head.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you whisper into his hair.

“I love you,” he says back, holding you tightly with no plans to let go anytime soon.

You know that this is just the beginning of a journey that’ll be full of pain and troubles, but you’ve never felt more hopeful of your ability to survive it than you do right now.

---

Taglist: @calpurniatypes; @rexorangecouny; @slashersluttt; @baker151910​