#smiling shakily… Do You Remember. The Time. When W | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ythankucaptainmccoy · 6 months

Text

CoD: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader - Found

I felt inspired to write this today after being fired from my job that I put my heart and soul into for nine years. I don’t know why but all of the sudden I was like I’m going to do this. So here is the finished version of what I saw in my head. I hope you all like it and my inbox is open for asks or requests right now. I’m stuck on CoD men at the moment. This one will be featuring König as well.

—----------------------------------------

It was late when Ghost woke up with a start as he came out of his nightmare. He had been having the same nightmare for the past week after (Y/N) had gone missing. It was a standard mission of retrieval, but when he had taken a round in the leg Soap had to help him walk. That was when she had split from them to draw the enemy away. When they made it to the evac site she didn’t arrive.

Ghost was adamant that they wait, but Soap had convinced him they should go and that she would be okay. He slowly got up and made his way to the kitchen going through the motions of making his night time tea. As the kettle was placed on the stove he could still see her eyes and the worry in them when she made the decision to draw the enemy away. How he had begged with his own eyes for her to stay.

It was the last time he would probably see her again, and that thought alone reminded him of his mother and brother's family’s murder. The thought of her dead and discarded made him suck in a breath as he felt the panic rising. (Y/N) would know what to do when he had a panic attack, but she wasn’t here. She wasn’t here because he wasn’t man enough to beg her to come with them, and that he couldn’t do this without her.

The screaming in his head was getting louder, and his chest felt like it was constricting. This attack was getting worse by the moment as he imagined her corpse coming towards him wailing at him. He jumped and fell backwards onto his ass scrambling for his knife. He held it in front of him shakily until his vision and hearing started coming back to him. “Simon drop the knife no one's gonna hurt ya’ here”, a voice he should know soothed.

The voice started getting more recognizable, but he was still trying to get his bearings. Then he recognized Price, the old man was holding up both hands when Ghost realized what was happening. He dropped the knife as if it had burned him and listened as Price talked him down. The wailing he thought was her was the kettle going off, and the panic attack had played with his mind.

After he had come back around Price had him sit at the table as he made the tea. Price was telling him that Kortac had a lead on (Y/N), and that König had volunteered to go retrieve her. That would make sense as (Y/N) and König had been good friends back before she joined 141. He nodded along as he listened to Price talk about how they coudn’t go in, and that's why Kortac had taken the job.

After Price had made sure he was going to be okay he went back to his room to try and get more sleep. He rolled over several times trying to get himself to sleep, but it wouldn’t happen. He got up and went out for a walk around the base noticing all the spots he and (Y/N) would go to be alone. His favorite spot was the sniper training tower where they had had sex the first time.

She had been angry about Soap getting the better of her on sniping and he volunteered himself to help her. They had been dancing around each other for a year when he finally made the first move which led to them shagging in that tower. He smiled remembering how she had moaned and called his real name. How she writhed under him and how afterwards she lay there in his arms until Soap had called up making mentions of how no more shots had been fired.

His smile quickly fell as he thought about how she may never come home. He kept walking, coming to the mess hall where he remembered her taking a ketchup packet hitting it just right to make it explode in Soap’s face and how they had all laughed. She was the light to his darkness and no matter what, she was always in a good mood until someone made a joke about how she should be home in the kitchen. He made his way back to his room praying Kortac could find her and bring her home to him.

***MEANWHILE IN SOME RANDOM ASS DESERT***

It was a hot afternoon and (Y/N) was trying to stay alive in a hostile environment. She had been captured right after Ghost and Soap had made their safe extract, but escaped and made it into the desert outside of the major city. She had to wait for nightfall before she could go into the city to steal some food or anything else she may need. To be honest she missed them, but there was no way she could get word to her team without possibly compromising them.

(Y/N) missed being on base, missed the others, but she truly missed Simon. She wanted to be at base sneaking into his room or him into hers to help each other sleep. She thought back on the first time she had sex with him in that sniper tower, and how he had her writhing and moaning. (Y/N) wanted to lay her head on his chest and relax because she knew that right now he would be having a hard time sleeping.

The sun slowly set and soon she would be making her move. She needed more water so her first stop would be the well at the edge of the city. Then she needed to get food and more bandages. (Y/N) knew where she could get the bandages, the food was going to be tricky. She started making her way towards the city. She checked with her binoculars to see the well only to find it guarded.

“Shit they got wise”, she murmured. Well she would have to sit and wait to see if they would leave or stay. It got dark and they stayed, making her decide to go back to her small encampment. It was far enough away to get a fire going. If she didn’t die of dehydration the night would certainly make her freeze to death. She sat at the encampment praying that she could go into the city the next night to scavenge.

The night passed by and (Y/N) tried to find shade in the small dilapidated stable. It was where she would sleep during the day. Her stomach kept waking her up as it cried for sustenance, but she didn’t have anything to satiate it. If and when she made it home she was going off base to her favorite pub to have a burger and good bourbon. If Gaz and Soap were here they would at least be cracking jokes and trying to cheer her up. She fell asleep again and didn’t wake until right before sunset. She got up and started the walk back towards the city.

The city seemed clear as far as She could tell. The men who had been guarding the well weren’t there now. (Y/N) watched for a couple more minutes just to be sure, and once sure she raced to the well. The water rippled when she bent down cupping her hands, and sucking down water. She drank until her stomach started to cramp. Once her thirst was quenched she darted from alley to alley until she reached a drug store.

(Y/N) knew that the back store room didn’t lock because she was the one who had broken it the first time she broke in. Under the cover of darkness she slipped in and scoured the shelves grabbing what she needed and filled her pack even taking some bottled waters. She made her way to the back pharmacy where the locked door was, but couldn’t get in. The fridge back there had to have some penicillin which she could use, but she would just have to go without.

She slipped back out into the alley and started taking note of where she needed to head next. There was a market a couple streets over that sold some raw meats. Some of the shops would be closing up so she had to be quick. She made her way to the markets, but they were all closed. They must have had them close up to keep her options limited.

There was nothing left, not even scraps that she could pick from. This was a failure, but she had to move on. Just as she started back the way she had come from a truck pulled up across the street and armed men climbed out. “Shit shit shit”, (Y/N) cursed. She was going to have to be careful making her way back to her camp unless she wanted to be captured again or worse.

She rounded the last corner when she saw a man looking in her direction. She ducked back into the alley, but he had already alerted his comrades to her position. When the man rounded the corner she ducked down and went for his legs making him fall over her. He dropped his rifle and they rolled in the alley trying to get to it. She could hear the other men approaching when she finally headbutted the man.

(Y/N) scooped up the rifle and fired a round into the man's skull. She encountered two more men that she quickly dispatched. There was another truck still running, and seeing her opportunity she took it. She hopped into the driver's side and tore out of the city as fast as she could. There was no way she could stay near the city now that they were certain she was there. She continued on for several miles hoping to come across a small village.

There was no such luck, and she was starting to get tired. When she looked at the truck's dash she saw that it was around five in the morning. She continued for a short amount of time when she saw a small house in the distance. The road had disappeared a long time ago and hopefully this small house was unoccupied. When she pulled up she shut the truck off, and grabbed the rifle.

After clearing the house it was in fact abandoned. It wasn’t all that dilapidated and the bed looked inviting, but her paranoid brain wouldn’t let her sleep there. She took the cushions on the old couch downstairs, and took them to the pantry that unfortunately was empty and placed them on the floor. She drank some water as she grabbed an old curtain covering a doorway and put it in the old pantry on top of the couch cushions then placed the backpack in the far back.

(Y/N) watched the sun rise as she checked on her wound. It needed new bandaging, and she wrapped it with the bandages she had taken. The wound seemed to be festering as it oozed some. Once it was wrapped she went back inside to crawl into the pantry closing the door behind her. She lay her head on the backpack and pulled the curtain over her like a blanket keeping the rifle beside her just in case. The hunger pains were growing, but there was nothing she could do as she slipped off into sleep.

Little did she know that a friend of hers was looking for her in the city she just fled. She woke a few hours later, shivering. She knew she had a fever since she was shivering and it was the hottest part of the day. She lifted her shirt and unwrapped the bandages to see the wound was red around the edges. It also had some discharge and she knew that it wasn’t a good sign. (Y/N) knew she was more likely to die of infection at this point.

She should have broken into the pharmacy for the penicillin after all. She pulled the makeshift blanket higher and relaxed back in her makeshift mattress. Sleep came easy as her fever got worse. Mumbling in her sleep as the fever continued to ravage her body. A noise and her eyes slowly and lazily fluttered open. It had to be a hallucination she definitely didn’t hear footsteps through the house.

The footsteps were going all around the house, but then they started towards her hiding place. She sat up with a lot of effort that had her breathing heavily, and grabbed the rifle. Lifting it made pain sear through her, and she had just pointed at the door where the footsteps stopped. She held the rifle up as she listened for the person to walk away, but her body gave out causing her to drop the rifle.

The clattering and her gasp from the pain had the stranger on the other side almost ripping the door off its hinges. She reached for the rifle again, but the stranger was quicker and stepped on it as she tried to pull it from the floor. Pain erupted in her body as the adrenaline left her and weakness hit her like a truck. She collapsed backward as her world spun and started to darken. She tried to keep the darkness at bay, but it consumed her.

(Y/N) started to come around as something cool touched her brow. When she opened her eyes she could see someone with their back turned toward her. One small lantern sat in the corner set on the dimmest setting. She had to get out of here not knowing what this person had planned for her, but when she went to move her strength was almost non-existent and let out a groan. The stranger whipped around and quickly shone a bright light into each eye.

(Y/N) tried to focus her eyes as the figure started talking in a language that sounded familiar, but quickly switched to English. Then a name hit her as her vision cleared some more and she could see the blue eyes and sniper hood. “ König?”, she rasped. “Easy Mause you need to rest”, he told her. “How… how did you find me?”, she coughed. “Your new friends asked me to come fetch you, but you are not fit for travel, and I don’t want to risk you dying on the trip to the extraction zone”, he relayed.

“We should move now” she told him. “No Mause you have had a high grade fever and you need to rest. Not to mention you have stopped breathing on me twice already to the point of needing resuscitation”, he argued. “I feel… fine”, she said, sitting up with a harsh wince. “No Mause I thi…”, König didn’t get to finish as she got up and walked out of the tent. He quickly followed as she walked towards the truck he had hidden under a desert camo tarp.

He watched as she got half way and swayed on her feet then down to her knees. He raced forward sliding to her as her upper body fell sideways. He cradled her against him as he looked her over. She was a ghostly pale color and shaking even though she was sweating. He quickly hauled her up and took her back into the tent where he checked the wound. He changed the bandages and made sure the wound was clean.

When she woke again this time she was alone in the tent, but she could hear König moving around outside. He seemed frantic with his movements so (Y/N) pulled herself up and slowly got out of the tent. “What are you doing?”, she questioned. “I should have listened to your advice last night, Mause. They have some small patrols looking for you”, he relayed as he packed the gear into the truck. She swayed slightly as her strength started waning.

König took notice right away quickly scooping her up and putting her in the passenger seat of the truck. “Stay here while I get the tent put away”, he ordered. She sat and watched the horizon when she noticed a cloud of dust. “König leave the tent there’s a patrol headed straight for us. He whipped up looking in the direction (Y/N) gestured to. He leapt into action running to the driver side while she started the engine. Flooring it caused the truck to lurch forward and (Y/N) groaned.

She watched as König radioed in for extraction and that there were enemies gaining. Confirmation came over the radio back to him as a Pave Low appeared on the horizon. Gunfire whizzed past their heads, but König pressed on. Sliding to a stop he pulled his gun out of the truck returning fire as he yelled at (Y/N) to head for the heli. She was almost there when she heard the grunt and impact of a body falling behind her.

When she turned König was on his back still firing back as he yelled again for her to go. “I’m not leaving you behind damnit!”, she yelled above the heli. She grabbed him and dragged him as pain lit up in her side. She was sweating from the pain as he continued returning fire. She heard the ramp lower and gunfire coming from the ramp. She could feel the blood starting to ooze from the torn stitches. Tunnel vision had started and she could feel her strength fading, but she was so close. She couldn’t do it. She screamed in frustration and pain as she felt the impact of the ground.

Somewhere she could hear a familiar voice as König was yelling at her to leave him. It all happened so fast she saw someone grab König as someone else provided cover fire. Then she felt weightless as her vision wavered. She lifted her head briefly and was met with another masked figure, but those eyes looked so familiar, but why she didn’t know.

The weightlessness left as she was placed on some blankets, but she could still feel the cold metal under her from the heli. She could hear more yelling as she tried to get herself to sit up. She reached out trying to find something to help her when a hand held hers. She felt the heli lurch upwards and away as her vision and head swam trying to make sense of everything.

Then she heard a voice shouting and she knew that voice it was Soap, but he shouldn’t be here then she recognized Nikolai yelling back to him. She wanted to confirm that it was in fact Soap and Nikolai she heard, but she blacked out as she felt her shirt being lifted and heard the fabric being cut. Those deep brown eyes she saw earlier while being carried into the helo followed her into her darkness.

Waking up was a complete bitch if (Y/N) was being honest the bright lights were killing her already pounding head. She took in her surroundings slowly noticing she was in a hospital bed and that there was a man in the hospital bed beside her. He was awake and looking at her with those blue eyes. “Hey Mause”, he whispered. Her eyes went wide as she realized König was maskless.

He was handsome with black hair and those piercing blue eyes. “König your hood”, she gasped. “It’s okay Mause I trust you and your team”, he chuckled. She was about to say something else when she realized something on her other side moved. Her head whipped around to spot Ghost in the chair beside her bed. His shoulders were moving and holy shit was he laughing. “Simon”, she breathed in a whisper.

“Hello love”, he said as he leaned in pulling up the bottom part of his mask. “Simon we have an audience and I haven’t brushed my teeth yet”, she mumbled. “It’s alright love”, he told her as he kissed her hard and rough. This went on for a few minutes until (Y/N) remembered König was trapped in here with them. Ghost went in for another kiss as his hand traveled down her side skipping over her wound. “Ghost! König is here”, she hissed.

“It’s fine love, besides I think he is enjoying the show isn’t that right König?”, Ghost asked. When she looked, König was trying to readjust himself discreetly. “Maybe I should let him join us so we can share you when you're healed hmmm”, Ghost hummed. (Y/N) whimpered, causing Ghost to smirk as he looked at König. “What do you think, König, should I let you share her with me once she is healed to thank you for saving her?”, Ghost questioned. (Y/N) looked over at him with a smirk as he responded, “Once you’re healed Mause then you're ours' '.

The nurses came in to check on both patients while Ghost watched from his chair. He had his woman back and the discussion that he and König had while she was still asleep was coming to fruition. He had known that König was attracted to her when they had worked together before, and (Y/N) had always made mention that she would trust him if they brought another person into the fold. He watched over (Y/N) and König as they both drifted in and out of sleep.

—--------------------------

That's it, I hope you all liked the little twist at the end and maybe I’ll make a part 2 of this with the three of them. Until next time, I hope you all have a lovely day!

#call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #konig mw2 #injured reader #injured konig

125 notes · View notes

throwaway-yandere · 9 months

Text

What HaPpEneD aT 10:10? (Yandere!"Gepard Landau"/Reader)

Scriptwriter's Note: I implore you to remember what happened at 10:10. And once you do, come talk to three of my associates. For now, let her help you recall what's going on in the present time. You can remember the time, but we need you to remember the murder weapon, who killed who, and the motive.

Synopsis: Trapped in Serval Landau’s basement for so long, you made a deal with the Sampo to escape confinement. As it turns out, your timing is never impeccable. Aka: a Belobog "murder" mystery. (A/n: ansy here, have fun trying to guess what happened! But please. PLEASE do not read this if you're sensitive to the topics below ⬇)

CW: Yandere and horror themes, "most unreliable narrator AND reader ever" - sam, violence, amputation, mentions of domestic (physical) abuse. His smile is stiff as a board. There’s a portal at the end of the story, your choices matter (there are 2 possible endings). Welcome to the Back Alley.

A murder was announced to occur on Saturday, October 2, at the Golden Theater’s back alley, around 10:10 AM.

It was an unidentified note. Short and crudely pasted cutouts from old magazines were its contents. Many believe the Astral Express put it together as a twisted joke. It’s no coincidence that the clocks' little hands near the theater were also forever stuck at 10:10. No one took it seriously. Additionally, a nearby bookshop used this opportunity to "hype" its mystery books by joining the bandwagon. While the Silvermane Guards officially took the "threat" as if it didn't exist, others transformed it into an event by creating crime scene props with March 7th and Stelle serving as the main judges.

Who'd even investigate such a note when the Golden Theater doesn’t have a back alley?

By 5:00 AM, that silly note was not at the forefront of the Silvermane Guards' minds.

It was you.

Sampo shakily exhaled a quick "heya, friend," as his legs continued to speed past the Silvermane Guards, who were all very much ready to fire. The merchanr was forced to inhale sharply and slightly elevate his voice as he worriedly fixed his attention on his 'package.'

"Y-You're good, aren't you?"

Inside the shopping cart (who knows where he got that) he had been pushing was a wanted person. A bit feverish, you nodded without much commitment. Even the slightest movements relieved the dubious merchant as he picked up the pace, avoiding the stray "warning" shots that were fired near.

Today, you didn't awaken in the house where you were held captive. There were no mechanical noises or loud drilling. However, your morning did begin with your flesh awkwardly molding against the metal grid patterns of the shopping cart. There was no complaining when you realized it was your old friend Sampo who had carried and set you down. You didn't even consider asking this man where he was taking you.

Days earlier, he had paid you a covert visit and explained his strategy. So you concluded that he was the one who made the "false" murder announcement public. He also implied that little Hook made the note. Your gut tells you that even while it makes sense to assume that she is the author of that absurd announcement, it doesn't seem to be the truth. But at that point, your fears of being tubed with immoral equipment vanished and you felt gratitude rather than alarm. Not that you'd ever figure out that I made it, anyways.

"S-Sampo…" You groaned, not moving from your position as your friend fished out his homemade bombs from his pocket. "W-Where are you taking me…?"

Anywhere is better than her basement.

"To Nat, of course!" You needn't tilt your head to know that he was smiling wide. "Is there any other doctor more reliable than Miss Natasha?"

You'd insensitively joke about Vache Harrower, but your strength betrays you. Not like he'd give you a chance to drop some smart-alecks when he timed his bombs right.

Just a few short seconds after, your best friend rolled his smoke bombs on the floor and made a larger dash. You heard a tremendous boom from the back, and a silent malicious voice in your skull hoped for injuries.

They worked with her.

Jolting you up, Sampo made one swift left turn and another to the right, making sure that the last remaining guards that trailed you both were lost in the haze. He didn't stop running, but you can tell he's getting tired. Sampo is a merchant, not the sister of the ex-Captain of the Silvermane Guards.

Your nose scrunched.

Serval Landau�� that paranoid woman and lousier liar…

The oldest Landau used to be your best friend along with Pela. She had treated you as though you were Gepard's twin at times, much to your discomfort. Even her parents referred to you as their kin.

Since you had no one to care for you as a child, the Landaus happily raised you. Had you not rejected their offers for adoption, your life certainly wouldn't be where it is now.

Back "home", Serval would make suggestions that you were more of a Landau than she’d ever be. In turn, you’d cock your head and look unamused. Then act more like one, you’d reply. Yet these forceful encouragements do not reach her.

Even when you beg her to let you out of the house, she won’t let you.

We’ve been over this before, she’d reply. I can’t let you out on your own. You’re missing your right leg, what if that man finds you?

You’ve never understood that logic. Who was she referring to, your old boss?

Her brother died a year ago.

You once liked him. You'd even go out of your way to say he was worthy of anyone's trust.

Was. That was before you knew that deep in the recesses of his mind that loyalty was the beginning and end of Captain Gepard Landau's character. Uniting men under his leadership, he sought only the best for his beloved Belobog.

Your mind drives memories of Gepard away and you can no longer remember what transpired to cause this. After all, you undoubtedly considered Serval and Lynx to be sisters, but you never thought of him as a brother. You can't exactly pinpoint why you treated him like that since the very beginning.

Based on your shattered memories, you were stripped away of your position as his aide. Serval claimed it was because you didn't harbor traits of self-preservation. She made a show of how unreliable you were on the field, that you were hysterical and a "liability." Their relentless critique went on for half an hour until the higher-ups had given in to her demands.

Worse, they permitted her to surveil your movements 24/7. Using your amputated leg as an excuse, she effectively put you on house arrest– not your home, but hers. She's not an effective caretaker either, despite her attempts. Serval's use of transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation is far more brutal than what a normal practitioner would do, but no one can hear your complaints except for Molly. Her tests are never comfortable. And you loathe this.

She acted like your loss of a leg turned you into damaged goods that only the siblings can see value in. That her giving you a prosthetic was a sign of love rather than a shackle.

They said you were “hysterical”, and that you should be forgiven for whatever sin you’ve committed.

Insulting.

Insulting. Insulting. Insulting.

"H-How closer are we to the underground?" You gripped the cart, your heart racing at the speed.

Sampo coughed after accidentally inhaling his smoke.

“S-Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t change the direction of the cart–”

“What?!”

“The cart won’t turn!!!” Sampo screamed.

With each passing second, the gap between the cart and the theater narrowed. Your heart raced as this was your first experience of real danger after being sheltered for a year or so. Even though you were aware that Sampo had no control over the impending crash, you still glanced at him expectantly.

He smiled, drop-dead nervous and boyishly sheepish.

"Give me two minutes!!!"

"Give me two minutes, Captain!!! We still need a few more."

You beamed, holding your axe to chop wood for your comrades in the Outlying Snow Plains.

At first, you weren't trusted with heavy weapons. Luckily, being "weak" is a curable ailment for everyone. And the cure is called hard work and extreme effort. That, and an axe.

You were the very definition of a model soldier and he found himself incredibly lucky to finally see you join the Silvermane Guards. You had an excellent posture; you were a sharpshooter and a wonderful axeman– even your breathing looks rehearsed.

And for a damn good reason.

When the Height's economy sneezes, the underground catches a cold.

Unfortunately, that means children as young as you were had to bear the flames.

The Landau parents had taken a shine to you after taking you as a servant from the orphanage. Your captain's father adored you, even though his never-smiling voice had not once indicated his affection. Captain Gepard bears resemblances from his old man in appearance but not his military demeanor; you were the one to hold that torch.

It was through Mr. Landau you learned how much metrics and timings make a difference between an animal and a human being. You grew from someone who skitters away dynamically like a gas particle to a person grounded with instructions on how each step in a stride must be measured to perfection. Growing up with the Landaus was by no means a happy life, but it made you more keen on what constitutes "proper living."

To you, being hit by vases and chairs for failing to fold Mr. Landau's clothes in exactly the way he wants them to be was preferable to dying in the streets with your grandmother with nothing to fill your stomach other than the restaurant trash cans nearby. And you were certain you brought more pride and joy to Mr. and Mrs. Landau than you had to your parents who had abandoned you since birth.

People see Mr. Landau when they look at you and not Gepard.

But that's only because they have never seen the way you behave when it's only you and the Landau siblings are together.

“Working hard, I see,” Gerard said in a light joking manner.

You scratched your neck, embarrassed.

“Nah, I’m actually very lazy.”

“Don’t be so self-effacing,” Gepard smiled kindly. “I don’t miss anything. I’ve heard that you’ve made your rounds and even took on some of Pela’s duties while she’s on leave.”

“Eh, we both know I wouldn’t have done it without Pela begging me to do it for her Tales of– nevermind, Captain.”

Gepard had always viewed your abilities with the greatest reverence and approval. Serval was always quick to emphasize how her "favorite non-blood related sibling" is an "uninhibited performer" before everyone else, so Gepard thought this true in every aspect. You must think of this as writing a song to keep your mind sharp. You lose any sense of reservation once in “the zone”, and if Serval fell for the way your brows furrowed when penning down tunes and lyrics, Gepard faltered when he saw the glint in your eye as you pieced all the information needed to catch Sampo Koski’s whereabouts after your promotion.

He had never told you this, but Gepard always felt weird sensations pooling in his chest whenever he saw you hyper-focused on something.

Or someone.

“Do you think I can catch him, Geppie?”

Gepard ruffled your hair and your face brightened up.

"Never falter, (Y/n),” he said firmly. “For I wholeheartedly believe in your strengths. Catching Sampo Koski will be a walk in the park for someone like you."

To think that your first caught infamous criminal is your last true friend… Destiny surely toys with those who say “That’ll never happen.” It's always a fun phenomenon to write a script about.

“Walk in a park”? Try “crash in a theater”.

“SAMPO!!!”

You yelped, clawing his shirt and yanking his upper body like a wild animal. His heels screeched as the cart faced the direction of the Golden Theater.

And what nestled near the Golden Theater was its Back Alley, a place that exists on the border between reality and myth. Whispers among children weave tales that those who enter the depths are trapped in a journey of confronting their unresolved trauma and guilt. It is believed that the alley acts as another dimension where the lost must face their inner demons before emerging back into the real world, scarred forever by the distorted horrors they have confronted.

And for the first time in your life, you saw it.

You saw a fence that was never there before.

Your heart dropped.

“SAMPO!!!”

He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact alongside you.

Sampo Koski lived by a particular quote: "True happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind,��

And only a few knew that it's only 1/3 of the full quote. The next part includes: “and true guilt is the catalyst for self-reflection and the pursuit of redemption–"

Flickering street lights and unmoving 10:10 clocks cast eerie shadows of dawn. It’s said that the people who traverse its trails encounter manifestations of their inner turmoil, a reflection of their deepest regrets. Some emerge transformed, carrying newfound clarity, while others head on a downward spiral.

He wondered which one you would be.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

Sampo smirked…

And let go of the cart.

“But the Back Alley is waiting for you.”

His hands, calloused but clean, tenderly held yours. You felt ice even without a metal ring wrapped around his finger. At that thought, you blinked.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You don't have a ring on you," you said with an unreadable expression. "Will we ever have a chance at getting married?"

You thought it was funny; he didn't.

We.

What did you mean by “we”?

Him and you?

Or you and someone else?

Surely you and him, right?

But is that really an idea that he needs to know?

The Supreme Guardian was right.

Doubt breeds arrogance.

“W-Well–” Gepard’s breath hitched, awkwardly fumbling his cuffs. “I don’t know about that.”

You muttered. “So the future's uncertain.”

“Of course.”

“Hmm.”

He gulped, realizing that you were mad at his response.

But he can’t let any of this continue any longer.

“(Y/n), I have something I’d like to tell you…”

“Nghh….”

You heard the shopping cart roll towards a wall– must be the same one you crashed onto. As you caught a glimpse of your surroundings, you were astounded to see how foggy it was. The wall-mounted advertisement for a love-matching service is hardly visible. It was impossible to see past the surrounding streetlight, even with "un-smoke bombed" eyes.

Doesn’t look like you’re in the administrative district.

You cannot see a single familiar building from this fog.

No heaters in sight and your breath practically singed your throat. The fog prickled your skin, but for reasons unknown, you did not shudder as a feverish man would’ve. Strangely enough, you felt fine.

You tried squinting at the road again.

Your heart dropped.

... There was no road.

You can't tell if it's the snow and the fog– but there's no pavement towards the exit in sight. It's as if wherever you stood floated. It was a literal dead end. As you peaked into the cliff, you did not see the bottom.

There was nothing there.

Even if you tried jumping, you weren't sure if there would be anything to fall on.

Capable arms wrapped themselves around your form. They were far stronger than your eyelids, which would barely open. Semi-automatically, your hand reached for this person’s shoulder, attempting to reposition yourself from their hold. You can barely make out their face, but their hair was slightly darker. This stranger lacked the envy-inspiring golden allure that the Landaus have.

Not processing that information fast enough, you spoke.

“S-Sampo, wh-what happened–”

You went pale.

No.

You pushed this "man" aside and dropped to the ground, barely maintaining balance on your one remaining leg. The man has now grown to be a towering figure over you, his star-bright eyes peering at you, paranoid. The air felt heavy, laden with a palpable sense of the unknown. Only the sound of your lonesome "real" foot scurrying away broke the silence.

“A-Are you alright?! W-What’s wrong....? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The man sauntered closer. His light but lifeless eyes locked onto yours, piercing through your soul. He had dirty blonde hair and he wore a sweater similar to the one that you never got to give to your best friend's younger brother, but–

“G-Gepard…?!?!”

The man tilted his head.

You squinted, hoping to find solace in a detail you might’ve missed or so.

Finally, your shoulders slackened, exhaling a large white cloud.

“No… You’re… not.”

He sent you a fleeting look of pity before making an awkward joke.

“Do I look similar to a past lover?”

His smile is stiff as a board.

“No— my— my deceased… boss…” You spoke bitterly.

This person, who looked eerily similar to the dead Gepard Landau, stared with red-rimmed eyes. Did he cry earlier? With nothing else to focus on except for the thick fog, you remain frozen in place.

“This is…”

Terrifying, you wanted to say but that would be offensive.

“Impressive…” You gawked, slowly forgetting the vulnerable position you left yourself in. Sharply, you drew a breath. “You look like you could be a Landau.”

Your hand reached to touch his cheek, and the stranger leaned into your touch. Far too engrossed by this encounter, you did not care for his slightly hollow eyes and more than elated expression. It was the bigger picture that you saw.

It was the near-perfect image of the deceased Gepard Landau.

His skin was pinkish and his heart raced.

“Your hand is warm…” He commented softly, face red.

“Your face, your voice— it’s just your hair and your sense of fashion that’s different, and—”

“My name is Gerard,” his smile remains stiff as a board, but there's a touch of friendliness to it. “I don’t believe I appear anywhere near ghostlike.”

You’re inclined to believe that he’s lying.

No one can look THIS similar to Gepard.

And that name as well.

You don’t know what to think.

As you were about to retract your hand, he held it back in place, guiding it closer to his lips. He breathed in. His breath marked the fog. “Gerard” inched closer, stepping his foot near your prosthetic right leg. With little distance between you two, your temperature has progressively grown hotter. It’s uncomfortable watching you both like this. I should’ve closed my eyes.

“See?” He mumbled.

“Can you sense how warm I am?”

“So you’re not Gepard… Or a ghost, I guess.”

You laughed to yourself. You’re not sure about your statement, either.

But while this man may appear friendly, his eyes were a haunting reminder that some things can never truly be left behind.

“As I have stated before, my name is Gerard.”

Even his name sounds like his.

“I-I’m sorry, I was dazed,” You pinched your temple. Without his warmth, the cold bit your cheeks which made you turn around. “T-Thank you for carrying me out of that shopping cart, Gep– Gerard.”

You looked around again. Nothing to see but fog. Far from surprising.

“Gerard, where are we?”

The dirty blonde man laughed.

“The Theater’s Back Alley.”

“The Back Alley?” You scoffed quietly, contemplating on how Gepard insisted to you before that it never existed– and now his promiscuous doppelganger is arguing otherwise. “There aren’t any back alleys around the theater.”

This place doesn’t look like an alley.

It’s far too large for it to fit the description. This must be an abandoned town. Unbeknownst to both of you, way before your time, this place was called Chernobog.

“Yes there is,” Gerard hummed. “It’s where we are now.”

“Then can you carry– lead me back to the main district?” You decided to humor him. “I’m not supposed to be wherever this place is.”

“I wouldn’t allow it.”

“Why not?”

Gerard grinned. His radiant smile baffled you as his demeanor changed from slightly teasing to tender from just the crinkles of his eyes.

“Because I love you, of course. I can't just let you leave.”

You froze.

Why? Why does he speak as if it ever so slightly comes from the diaphragm as he did?

Why does his voice sound so much like Gepard’s?

You thought it was wrong.

Gepard would never say those words.

Not to you. Never.

As Gerard’s casual confession hung amidst the fog, a peculiar heaviness settled on your heart. It wasn't the words themselves that caused this unease but rather the haunting resemblance his voice had to Gepard’s. His voice was rich with authenticity, free of malice, and his confession was short but somehow sweet.

But you didn’t want to hear that from him.

You averted your gaze. A flood of memories had suddenly surfaced at that precise moment, including the hearty sound of Gepard's laughter. It appeared as though the dead had come back to play a cruel game. Unable to bear his comfortable “joke”, you recoiled and feigned deafness, face veiled behind an indifferent mask. Perhaps the Aeon of Preservation may have advocated for this. In a sense, perhaps denial meant safety. Silently, you begged for your thoughts to stop, for the resemblance to dissipate, and for the ache of grief to be buried again.

“Back on the topic at hand, if you wish to exit the Back Alley: I don’t wish to help you,” he smiled.

His smile is always stiff as a board.

“Why not stay here? Are you not a wanted person?”

You glared.

“How did you know that?”

“Murder, right?” Gerard drawled, his eyes softening in what you call disgusting pity. “Someone important. Someone that made you stuck here.”

“Stop making accusations,” you spat, offended by his left-field slander.

“I’m not,” Gerard said. “I know who you killed. How about you? Do you remember who it was?”

Silence.

“But that doesn’t matter now,” he announced firmly. “Why don’t you come with me? Let me shield you from the monsters.”

You froze.

“Mon… sters?”

“Yes, monsters.”

Unexpectedly, a far-off wail of sirens and static radio pierced the air, disorienting. There was nothing to be seen when you lifted your chin to strain your ears in search of the source. Gerard's urgent voice broke through your daze.

"Run."

With a swift and practiced motion, he swept you off your feet, cradling you in his arms back to the position you woke up in. He knew your current prosthetics were not meant for running. A prosthetic limb is like a new fingerprint and Serval would never make your new identity one similar to escapists. At the moment, you had a prosthetic leg for everyday use, and not blades for running.

As Gerard hurriedly carried you through the dense fog, you felt no sense of security as you had before. Something lurked just beyond your line of sight. In an act of spur-of-the-moment bravery, you stole a glance over Gerard's shoulder, and thus, you were paralyzed.

What emerged from the depths of the fog were grotesque “figures”.

Their bodies were mutilated, with their arms hanging loosely at their sides. They reared their heads, twisting and contorting. It was humanoid in stature, blanched and nearly armless. If it were not for some tissues, you were certain they wouldn’t have arms to begin with. Their flesh seemed boiled together like patchworks of human remains. They started to inch closer, their movements disjointed.

Fear coursed through your veins as you realized their intentions were set upon you and Gerard. But his voice cut through, his words not faltering.

"Hold on tight," he said steadily.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them get to you, (Y/n),” Gerard whispered.

“Please, do it for me.”

For the duration of “dawn”, Gerard carried you to safe locations. You have not met a single human person throughout the day. This was a concerning observation after knowing how large the “alley” was. He knew the area like the back of his hand and successfully guided you to hospitals (which, unfortunately, had more of those monsters from before) to patch some minor wounds from Sampo's “shopping cart trip” mishaps.

Before you could walk to the hospital bed, he grabbed your wrist in a tight hold.

“Shhh…” Gerard tugged your arm. “You don’t need to walk. Please, permit me to carry you.”

Despite your whispered protests, he rarely let you move around. Which made sense since your staggering did alert them of your location.

But you don’t like the way he touches you.

Those Gepard-like eyes lingered on you as if he were trying to memorize every inch of your skin. His actions were marked by an unwavering vigilance, always on guard for the slightest sign of danger even when you encouraged him to relax a bit. It was as if he was driven by an unspoken longing or unresolved past experiences. And you've only just met.

This time he made sure to turn off his radio. Suspiciously enough, "Gerard" carried a Silvermane Guard issued radio but it only seemed to make sounds whenever danger lurks by.

You tried not to think about that. Save for the dusty bed and wispy drapes, the posters strewn across the hospital walls caught your attention. The wall didn't have anything else notable other than those prints. They must be the same ones you saw on the streets, yellowed with age. The prints ranged from love hotlines, anger management tips, and a wanted poster.

Your poster.

Unlike the previous ones, this one was preserved thoughtfully, plastered right at the center amongst all the prints. Intriguingly, floral stickers were peppered around your images. Not the childish ones you'd buy for a cheap price, but more refined illustrations. You're not too versed in the language of flowers, but they did look like blue roses and marigolds. If only you could recall what Gepard said about what those flowers meant...

For now, you hazarded an astute guess as to why it was cleaner than the rest, staring unamused at Gerard. He sheepishly smiled, face flushed as he tried not to notice your glare. Gerard seemed proud of his handiwork.

It was nearly cute.

If it weren't for the fact you seriously don't know who he is.

“Gepard—”

“Gerard,” he corrected you in a commanding yet soft tone, ironically similar to your old Captain.

“You don’t have to patch my wounds.”

“Just let me,” he pressed on, wrapping your scrapped arm with gauze. “This was part of my combat lifesaver course.”

You shifted from the bed.

“You’re a soldier?”

…

He didn’t answer.

You tilted your head.

“Are you sure you’re not a Landau–”

“Affirmative.”

He could’ve twisted the gauze tight enough to make you wince in pain, but he delicately wrapped it and added immense pressure not to your wounds, but in his gaze.

“I am not your “Geppie” and I am not your old employer.”

With a voice that commands resolute clarity from you, you doubt he’s telling the truth.

You paused.

“How?”

“How what?” He muttered.

“How did you know that nickname?”

You gulped.

“How much do you know about me?”

You were on high alert the moment he called you by your name when those monsters chased earlier– you have never introduced yourself. Couple that with the fact that he was to accuse you of murder, you didn’t know what he thought of you.

This time, he didn’t smile.

“Enough to know that I love you.”

“You say that like it makes any sense!” You snapped.

“I know everything because you wanted me to love you, and I do love you too. I am not a shield for the people like him. I don't have the burden to protect anyone else, doesn’t that make me a better man for you now? There's no need to make sure the Silvermane Guards are always at the ready. I don't have to worry about pride- about being a Landau.”

He delicately reached out, guiding your hand to rest against his cheek. His softened features conveyed a love for your "warmth", but the pool in your stomach made this experience unbearable.

“My life is reserved for only you. That is my oath.”

You ripped your arm away from him with disgusted eyes.

“Just tell me the truth already!!!”

He looked down, frowning.

“You don’t need the truth...”

Gerard's eyes glistened with a bittersweet melancholy as he watched you, a faint smile tugging his lips. He had a look that says he knew all too well that you are unaware of the depths he was willing to go to protect you. The dirty blonde man reached out, his hand instinctively yearning to rest upon your shoulder, but he withdrew it quickly, his fingers curling inward.

“That’s why you’re here. In this foggy back alley.”

He scooted beside you. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you enough, you knew he spoke the truth when his voice cracked in a small whisper of: "I’m with you."

Gerard grabbed your hand again and softly kissed your fingertips.

No one could miss his sharp gaze. The man has deluded himself that you were his to protect at all costs. A nature that stemmed from a deep-seated desire to control something that he couldn't acceptably justify. A pure obsession that defied reason at its finest.

You know that look all too well.

But you can’t put a finger as to where you’ve seen it. What a shame.

You looked at your hands.

... Strange.

Since when were you wearing a golden ring?

Your eyes intuitively gazed at Gerard's hands.

All of the sudden, your throat dried.

You're both wearing wedding rings.

“You don’t have to be alone again,” he mumbled. “We can live here. You could plant and look after flowers with me– though I’ve never been good at it. It’d be a quiet life, just as you’ve always wanted.”

“If that’s what you’re offering then you’re no different than Serval,” you laughed to yourself.

His eyes darkened.

Before you could comment on it, he cut you off with another considerate smile.

“You must be hungry. There’s a cafeteria downstairs, I’ll procure some rye bread.”

“(Y/n), babe, where are you?”

You looked up. An alarmed woman’s voice called out.

“... Serval?”

No reply.

The voice seemed to be coming from the door.

“Serval, are you there?”

“(Y/n), i-it’s okay! C-Calm down, calm down,” the voice continued. “Things just happen. I’ll help you okay? Shhh, d-don’t cry, don’t cry, I'm here…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I won’t let it happen. They don’t even have to know you were here. P-Pass the mop now, shhh…”

It made a sound far too damaged to be called a soothing chuckle.

“What are you on about?–”

The broken voice began to sing, sounding as though she had been clinging onto a husk of someone who’s been too far gone.

“C-Calm your nerves, my p-precious friend,

For "tomorrow"'s problems will never end.

In this short song, I s-softly sing,

You're cherished, my dear, in e-everything.”

You reached for the bed railing and supported yourself upright. Prepping your leg for a short walk, you placed your foot down–

THUD.

The door swung open, making you jump slightly.

Gerard came back, his breath nearly stripped away as he sauntered over. His only saving grace was his stamina, but otherwise fear would've dragged him down. There was not a single piece of bread in his hand. I’m glad he came, you would’ve been out of the alley immediately otherwise. And that's not good for us.

The voice was gone.

The sounds from afar now ring more of an animal than a human.

"(Y-Y/n)," he called out. "We need to leave."

You tilted your head, about to question what was wrong but you were cut off by his abrupt scream.

"NOW!!!"

He took you by the waist, carrying you in a way there was regard for your amputation but fast enough to make you feel unease. You gasped as Gerard's hold on you tightened, sprinting out of the "safe location."

"W-What's going on–"

"They're close," he whispered. "They're coming. It knows we’re here."

With one free hand, he pushed down passing cabinets as he bolted. Nothing was on his mind other than to flee with you. You didn't dare look at what was behind. You didn't want to face the truth.

"Gerar–"

Despite your desire not to see these creatures, a lone monster stands at the end of the hall.

It loomed before you, a grotesque fusion of flesh intricately molded together like human flesh sewn tight to a Silvermane Guard uniform, its form twisted and contorted while multiple unnerving eyes peered from its misshapen visage. Although it may have eyes more than you have fingers, you have a sneaking suspicion that they are completely inoperative. Its skin bore an unsettling array of intricate carvings, etched like cryptic scars across its entire body.

Something about its appearance resonated with you.

It slugged closer, staring. As to “where”, you can't tell. Each inch of its body had slits for eyes enough to instill paranoia. At least one pair must've been staring at you. Yet, most of it was on him.

Gerard.

"Tch..." His eyebrows furrowed, troubled.

He ran towards the end of the hall and miraculously swerved to avoid its axe. His pace quickened.

"(Y/n), whatever you do, don't think about why these creatures exist. Even when I'm gone."

“What do you mean?”

“Just don’t. That’s an order.” He said, sounding more of a plea than a warning.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as you struggled to keep up with Gerard's swift pace.

As he ran, questions burned in your mind, desperate for answers. His words echoed in your head, but your curiosity had implicit demand for a shred of understanding. You couldn't help but glance back, catching a glimpse of the creature still in pursuit. It persisted in its relentless pursuit of you, unwavering in its resolve.

"F-Faster!" you gasped between labored breaths. “It’s closing in on us!”

Gerard's expression remained stoic, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

He ran towards a door and pushed it open with a kick. You both stumbled through the threshold, entering what appeared to be the cafeteria, but the sterile scent mingling with the food made that guess somewhat unconvincing.

Gerard quickly assessed the room, searching for any signs of danger. The sound of distant alarms and muffled screams echoed through the corridors.

“Just what the hell is that?!” The words escaped you unintentionally in a mortified whisper.

Gerard cupped your mouth.

You both forgot to close the door.

What a horrible mistake.

The unsettling monster began its search. It emanated shrill sounds that pierced through your ears, making you almost move to cover them. The cries reached a hauntingly high-pitched cry that echoed like metal against metal. The mournful wails never resembled wolfish growls but rather heartbroken cries. Its speech resembles the guttural syllables "I" and "U" in an auditory expression of grief.

It turned around, but it also had eyes on its back.

Cowering in terror, you huddled close to Gerard behind the counter of the desolate cafeteria, seeking refuge from the approaching monster.

As the creature drew nearer, its grotesque eyes fixated on you and Gerard, its elongated limbs reaching out with chilling anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you heard Gerard’s breath hitch as you both clung to the faint hope of survival.

But to your horror, as the monster approached head-on.

Its rotting flesh bypassed you, swerving past your trembling form, and seized Gerard instead.

“(Y/N)!!! RUN!!”

Gerard pointed at the nearby mop.

He wants you to leave him.

A gasp of terror escaped your lips as you watched in disbelief.

His blue eyes widened, mirroring your panic but worse, as the monster's grasp tightened around him. Gerard yelped, his voice trembling as his fear of death loomed. Its grip was not merciful.

It smacked Gerard against a desk.

Again.

And again.

Blood streamed in his scalp.

The monster took his arm.

And ripped it apart.

And soon.

Nothing.

Thud.

You went as silent as the corpse as you watched it extinguish his life in a quiet finality.

Tears streamed down your face, unable to look away. Maybe it's a trick of the mind, but you were starting to feel a pain from where your leg was removed. Your brain was still convinced that you still had it- and that it is in danger. You feel as if your ankle was angled downwards, hiding from the monster. Such sensations made your skin crawl, especially considering the circumstances. It was not the best time to experience phantom limb pain.

The monster briefly met your gaze as if to mock your survival. It limped away, leaving behind you with nothing but a corpse.

Hours felt like mere minutes before you were snapped out of your prolonged emptiness. Gerard remains on the floor, dead-eyed and bloody. Thankfully, your current PLP was manageable at best but the throbbing sensation distracted you for a while. Your mind was blocking out the blood on his face. It did not process how mutilated it had become, nor did it care to acknowledge his arm that lay on the checkered floor.

His cheeks looked warm, alive.

You fixed his hair.

“Gep– Gerard…”

…

You need to leave.

YOU NEED TO LEAVE.

Since that incident, you've been by yourself in the Back Alley, even though you sense that there may be other lost "people" like you nearby, you chose to act alone despite this.

There's no need for another Gerard.

You followed the walls every time you had the nerve to step outside, cursing Serval occasionally for failing to provide you with a prosthetic running leg. That, and her garbage methods she calls "physical therapy."

You have overstayed your welcome despite not knowing how long you have been in this dense fog. Oddly, you've never experienced hunger in your time here. You are unable to move around freely, and worse, you are unable to scream for help, unless you want the people who are still present in the dense fog to find you.

You don’t have time to grieve for a man you barely knew.

You sighted a police station. Much like every building in this surprisingly large “alley”, it had been abandoned. It looked like the one you worked for, down to the paint job and the door frame. Funnily enough, the door was open, and thus, it was temporarily yours.

What greeted you first upon entering was a creature similar to the monsters you’ve crawled away from– but it did not move.

The still creature lay on the floor, staring at its hand. Its bottom half was similar to a mermaid's. You did not see two legs. When you approached, there was no reaction. You can only presume it was dead. Or that it never had a life to begin with.

You heard radio static as soon as you tried approaching it. But you don't recall ever having a radio in your possession.

“You poor thing…” You found yourself uncharacteristically sympathizing with a monster. The fatigue was eminent in your voice. “What happened?”

You're so stupid. Don't you think that "corpse" looks familiar?

You looked at its other hand and saw it holding an axe.

You took it.

As you brandished the weapon, its Silvermane engravings became more apparent. This was a soldier’s model, one you used back when you were an intelligence officer. Perhaps it will come in handy later.

“I’ve never heard of this station before, then again, I doubt many knew there’s a back alley in the first place,” you scoffed. “But, hmm…”

You turned your head to face the monster once more. You don’t know why you feel oddly calm facing the monster this boldly. With the axe acting as your new makeshift cane, you pushed it down. Nothing happened.

You got back up and took a look around.

For a police station, there were tons of love-related posters hanging around with half of them viciously vandalized. Some of them made you laugh as you read them. The handwriting seemed to belong to someone, but you can't recall whose.

LOVE ISN’T REAL.

I DON’T NEED A MATCH. I JUST WANT ██████.

“Pathetic,” your emotional equivalent of a snort was a slight huff. “And you’re all supposed to be Silvermane Guards? Guess this place was deserted for a reason.”

You hate how you sounded exactly like Mr. Landau just now. Out of all the children in the Landau household, you had it the worst with Md. Landau. Hearing yourself mutter something he would say... you're not sure how you feel about that.

Scoffing, you walked past the corpse and onto the break room.

Missing just a few posters in your way.

IF I CAN’T HAVE ███,

THEN I’LL JUST REMOVE ███ LIMBS.

Hours passed. You haven’t found the exit.

You heard Serval’s voice again. She was apologizing to you. Then, silence.

Nothing happened on what you presumed to be the “next day.” You cried to yourself until you saw the same monster who killed Gerard. It was ready to give chase until suddenly, it stopped when you were incredibly focused on escaping.

You tried thinking about why it did what it did. But it left more questions than answers.

Tore down a couple of posters. They were starting to get to you.

You think there is no exit. You made a quick mention about how Gerard probably knew where it is to yourself, but the same monster must've heard you. You felt eyes watching you and it made it's appearance by narrow alleys. You bolted.

You found another human. But he was long dead. You wondered if he was the same person children loved to talk about. The anxious man who lingered at the gates of the Back Alley. If I remember correctly, Stelle encountered this man before. Wonder what she thought of him at the time.

You heard the radio static again when you approached him. You decided to ignore him for now.

You mopped the man's dried blood. Who knew the mop Gerard pointed at in his last moments had it's use.

He looked stiff as a board. He was reeking, but at least he had a smile on his face.

You obtained a key after cleaning up the puddle.

“Was there ever an exit?”

Nothing happened in this timeframe. But you think you have an idea as to why these creatures exist.

Specifically, why they exist because of you.

How long have you been here? Sorry, I wasn’t keeping track.

You also weren't sure how long you'd been searching the town. Quite frankly, I was getting bored of watching. You tried to play this off like a maze game, constantly following the walls to your right as though it would magically lead you to the exit. Did you know that Lady Luck is not particularly lenient when bestowing favors? Your life here is slowly becoming more stale and your constantly improving ability to strategize your routes to avoid monsters has been making your adventure more of a chore to follow.

It's admirable that you were so tenacious in clinging to life in such a dangerous environment with a single leg, but it was extremely frustrating that you couldn't see this alley for what it was.

As if to cure such boredom, you entered another abandoned building. Turns out, the key you pried off a dead man's corpse fits perfectly. It was a psychiatric clinic owned by one Dr. Kauffman, a licensed therapist who received teachings from Dr. Kang Tu via the Astral Express. I never cared about those people. They're just cashing in on the occult, the easily "hooked", and the disturbed. You harbor at least 2/3 of those qualities. Congrats.

The walls are more notably filled with the same set of posters you've seen scattered around time. This time, you weren't feral enough to tear the posters down. However, you didn't grasp the meaning behind them either. You refused to look deeper, even when you don't recall what would stare back at you.

Mindlessly, you staggered inside a room. There were no professionals inside as far as you could tell without any of the lights on, just a cold sofa. You walked slowly and sat down.

As soon as you comfortably secured a position to take a rest, you realized you weren't alone.

Star-bright eyes followed your movements as soon as you entered the room.

“Gepard?”

You blinked.

“Oh. Gerard, it’s you. I thought you were–” You paused as Gerard shook his head, eyebrows furrowed with a smile that repressed his frustration. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, I’m… confused. How are you alive?” You asked. “Your arm– it’s back. What’s going on?”

Desensitized, you no longer knew what to think.

You're being strangely calm, don't you think?

But one thing was for certain: this “man” is not supposed to be standing.

Gerard pursed his lips.

“Anyway?” He mimicked you bitterly.

“What do you mean “ANYWAY”?!?”

You flinched as he took steps forward.

“You didn’t even care about me, didn’t you?!? It’s Gepard this, Gepard that– Gepard is DEAD!!!”

Gerard screamed at your face, gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Why… Why is it always him first? When I am everything he couldn't be?”

Gerard chuckled lowly.

“I-I was so afraid. I was so afraid that I won’t be able to see you again– that I’d disappoint you– but no, it’s always Gepard first. Why can’t you be obsessed with me in the way you were so– so…”

He cried. Hot tears ran down his cheeks as his shoulders deflated. Gerard cast his gaze to the ground while his hands reached to wipe his sorrows off his face.

“I would die for you. Why can’t you do the same?”

You tilted your head.

“Strange, now that I think about it–” you said nonchalantly.

“Didn’t I watch you die?”

Silence.

You should comfort him.

“Gepard,” you started.

Wrong name.

“No, it’s Gepard.”

Wrong name.

“It’s not the wrong name. I know what I’m saying.”

Wrong name.

I continued to correct you.

“It’s not–” You took a shaky breath. “It’s not the wrong name, you fucking idiot.”

He remains still, quiet.

Almost frozen.

Stiff as a board.

You laughed.

“I get it now. Haha. I get it now.”

You look down, staring at the human corpse. Human corpse? No. That’s not a human. A human cannot die twice.

You get it now.

You’re in the Back Alley.

There are always eyes that watch the Back Alley.

You look above, particularly to no one, but you believed the scriptwriter must be listening.

“He’s listening, isn't He?”

Yes. He is.

It's time for us to talk.

The clock struck 10:10.

213 notes · View notes

gutouhua · 2 years

Text

tags. monster!capitano x reader / monsterfucking, oral (f. receiving), edging (sort of), cum swallowing, not edited just word vomit

no thoughts just thinking of capitano absolutely abusing the hell out of your pussy with his long ass tongue, his sharp teeth biting into your soft thighs. and being a masochist, it only sets you off even more.

at first he starts off with a light hand, softly feeding his tongue in and out of your pussy -- not too deep -- he keeps his movement shallow because he wants you to beg before he goes any deeper.

"c-capitano!" you whimper, as he forks his tongue back and forth, curling inwards sometimes, but it's not deep enough.

he's holding your thighs apart with a strong grip and when you feel his tongue pass your clit, feather-light before he sucks the bud with a long inhale, you almost cum until you hear a sharp command accompanied by a nip of his teeth to your inner thigh.

"not yet."

at this point, you're bucking against his face, thighs squeezing his faces, and he feels like he could die a happy man between your legs, but you haven't cummed yet. and he couldn't go without giving you your pleasure.

"w-when," you ask shakily, panting from a mixture of exertion and lust. your cheeks are hot and your eyes are heavy with desire and if capitano was a better man, he would've given in to you. after all, who wouldn't give in to their goddess?

but he was not.

he was a sinner.

and sinners wrung pleasure out of their goddesses. they did not give it freely.

"use your words, love, so i can lick this pretty cunt," he murmurs against your wet folds, the vibrations causing you to arch and push closer to his face, seeking the friction and penetration you needed so badly to cum. "i can't give you what you want if you don't use your words. we need consent, and you're a smart girl right, hmm?" he starts circling your clit with a long finger, his usually long nails cut short just for you.

consent. you shut your eyes tightly, remembering the first time you met him. you'd gone on and on about consent and whatnot since he'd stolen a kiss from you, and now it seemed like every time before you were about to cum, he'd bring that up and ask for your explicit permission.

he was a menace.

but you always gave in to him. and judging by the smirk that graced his savage features, he knew exactly what he was doing.

you squirm against him, almost humping his face at this point, before the need to cum was too great. "capitano, p-please! please make me...please make me cum, mhm--"

no sooner do those words leave your lips does he stuff all seven inches of his tongue inside you. you let out a gasp at the fullness -- it doesn't feel quite as full as when he'd stuff you with his cock, but the way he moves his tongue and his circling finger over your clit was enough to set you off immediately.

you feel yourself spasm around his tongue and cum so fiercely that hot liquid gushes out and makes a mess of his face. capitano opens his mouth wide, tongue outstretched, and makes sure to swallow every last drop -- much to your mortification.

"i keep telling you not to do that!" you swat him lightly as he continues to hold your cunt to his face, peppering tiny kitten licks to your still-quivering folds.

he smiles widely, revealing sharp teeth and a predatory glare.

"but you just taste so good. i can't help it."

#capitano #capitano x reader #capitano x y/n #capitano smut #genshin smut #genshin capitano #fatui #fatui smut #fatui harbringers #harbringers #capitano x you #genshin impact smut #capitano genshin #the captain #monster!capitano

1K notes · View notes

apothe-roses · 4 months

Text

12 Days of Smuff

Day 8: Sunrise & Orgasm Control

Osferth x Reader

Word Count: 690

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, heavy petting, disrespecting Christianity, male whimpering

Prompt created by @madmax8603. Dividers by @cafekitsune and @mykento

Disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the right to the character of Osferth

Lord Uhtred’s men were kind and respectful, but they were still men. Loud, smelly men. As such, you relished the moments you could enjoy some alone time.

One of your favorite pass times is to watch the sun rise. Which is what you plan to do this very morning.

Quietly, you pick your away around your sleeping friends, noticing a certain monk is not among them.

You make your way up the small nearby hill, smiling when you see the kneeling figure at the top. Osferth had his hands folded in prayer, his eyes closed and his lips forming words you couldn’t hear.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping watch?” You ask, starling him.

“M-my lady! I was! I mean I am! I only wanted to take a moment to pray.”

You giggle. “I’m only teasing, Osferth. I know you wouldn’t neglect us like that.”

He relaxes a little. You take a seat beside him.

“So beautiful,” you marvel, admiring the rich colors of the sky. “What a sight to start our day.” Osferth hums in agreement. The two of you fall silent for a while, watching the sky change colors.

“What were you praying for?” you wonder, breaking the silence.

“Forgiveness.”

“For what?”

In the dim light, you see his cheeks turn pink. “I’d rather not say.”

“Why not?” you wonder.

“It really is a beautiful sunrise,” he quickly turns his head away. “Such a wonderful example of the Lord’s—”

“Was it about me?” you interrupt. You’ve suspected the monk had feelings for you for quite some time now. You’d caught enough shy glances and flushed cheeks.

He bites his lip, clearly in thought.

“It’s all right,” you assure him. “I’m not rejecting you.”

His head snaps back to you

“What?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. It’s the same way I’ve been looking at you.”

You put a hand on his thigh.

“I want you, Osferth. And I know you want me too,” you whisper.

He glances from your eyes to your lips, then slowly leans in. His kiss is soft and uncertain but becomes more assertive when you deepen it. Your hand slides up his thigh, palming his half-hard cock over his trousers. You smile against his lips.

“Please,” he begs. “Please touch me.” You happily oblige, undoing the laces of his breeches. You push his robes aside and free his cock from its confines. You wrap your hand around his shaft, stroking him to full hardness.

“Oh God,” he moans. That’s when you get an idea.

“I just remembered. I interrupted earlier, didn’t I?”

“W-what?”

“Your prayers. You never got to finish them.” His tip leaks a droplet of seed. You run your thumb over it, smearing it over the head.

“Oh, it’s not that important…,”

“No no no. You should finish them.”

“Really, it’s—,”

“Let me rephrase. Finish your prayer, and you can cum,” you whisper in his ear. Osferth’s eyes widen, and he turns the most delightful shade of red. His mouth falls open, unable to find the words.

“Go on. Out loud, so I’ll know when they’re done,” you order, giving his balls a light squeeze for good measure.

He exhales shakily, before resuming the position he was in before.

“Lord, I ask that you look over my friends and I as we continue on our journey,” he chokes out. You pick up the pace a little.

“I ask that-fuck-you ensure our b-blades strike h-hard and true-oh!” his head falls back as you stroke harder, speeding and slowing intermittently, alternating giving attention to his tip, shaft, and stones.

“Almost there, sweet monk,” you purr. “Don’t forget to ask for forgiveness.”

“And finally, I ask that you forgive me for my lustful ways, such as what I am undergoing right now,” he forces out through gritted teeth.

“All this I ask in your name Amen!” the last part comes out as a moan as you speed up. In no time, he’s painting the ground before him with his seed. You gradually slow to a stop, finally releasing his nearly purple cock. You give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Such a good boy.”

#12 days of smuff #osferth fanfic #osferth x reader #osferth smut #osferth x you

83 notes · View notes

dreamywriter143 · 1 year

Text

Nga Yawne Lu Oer

Genre: Fluff, Slow-Burn, Unrequited love, Love-Triangle/Square?, Angst, SFW, NSFW (like one chapter later on, MDNI), Romance.

Status: Ongoing

Warnings: Depictions of battles, blood/weapons, NSFW (later on) and it’s NOT incest. (That will also be revealed, much later on) Also, all the characters are AGED-UP (Neteyam and Ao’nung are the eldest being 18 etc…..)

Parings: Neteyam X Reader, Lo’ak X Reader, Ao’nung X Reader

Summary: Y/N, the twin sister of Tsireya and eldest daughter of Ronal and Tonowari is faced with new challenges and obstacles as the Sully’s arrive to Awa'atlu. Y/N cant help but be amazed by the new Na’vi, who intrigue her as well as raise a sense of connection within them. What will she do when lives are in danger? When the RDA attack? Or more Importantly, when her heart is torn between the two brothers who steal her breathe away upon first contact?

Word count: 5k

Chapter Twelve: Whispers Under the Stars

________________________________

~Neteyam's POV~

The sun begins to set with no sign of Lo'ak. I have been keeping an eye out for him; he should have been back by now from apologizing to Ao'nung. After I left Y/N's hut, I hung out with Tuk for a bit. After she got tried, I dropped her off to mom, and I have been looking for that troublemaker, Lo'ak ever since.

I begin to feel fear bubble within me knowing the last time I saw him was when dad sent him to apologize Ao'nung. It's been a good few hours since then. And he has yet to return. I peek into our Marui, checking to see if he had arrived unannounced. To my luck, he was not there. 'Where is that Skxawng!' I grumble under my breath walking towards the shore.

Recalling what the chief had instructed Y/N with, maybe she's seen Lo'ak. She was going to find Ao'nung anyway. I feel a smile twitch at the thought of her. My lips felt hot reminiscing how her delicate fingers danced across them not to long ago. Oh, what I would do to relive that moment.

Not focusing on where I was walking, I accidentally bump into someone making them hiss. "Watch it" he growls, making my ears twitch at his voice. I quickly spin around, grabbing him by his bicep. Clenching hard to insure he stays within my grasp. He turns to me, his black eye prominent. I hide my smirk; I cannot remember if it was the result of Lo'ak's punches or mine. But the look suited him, and his smug face.

"Where is Lo'ak" I demand, feeling him tense under my hold. He glares at me, shrugging my hand away. I allow it waiting for his answer. "I don't know, leave me alone" he says trying to walk it off. I was about to let him off the hook but something about his expression did not sit right with me.

He looked guilty.

I pull him back, making him face me. "My father sent him to apologize to you. He has not returned. Now, stop lying. Where. Is. He" I hiss through gritted teeth. He looks at me, a fearful expression on his face. "I-I don't know. He came along with me on a swim. We went our separate ways afterword's" he says uncertainly. I frown at his words; it did not seem all that convincing.

"How about Y/N? She was sent to look for you. Where is she? She has not returned either" I inquire, his ears twitch at the mention of her name. His eyes widen as I let go of his arm. "W-what do you mean?" he asks shakily. I shake my head at his obvious attempt to get away from the situation.

"Your father sent her to look for you! I haven't seen her around ever since." I explain slowly, hoping he can understand what I am trying to say. Just as he opens his mouth, I hear a familiar screech. Turning to the sea I see Y/N's Iiu swim towards us, stopping near the shallows. Atan, flaps his fins wildly, all while staring at me and Ao'nung. I notice a saddle on his back, not fastened properly and hanging loose.

I feel my heart sink to my stomach. I turn to Aonung who had an equally horrified expression. "I'll ask you one last time! Where is Lo'ak and Y/N!" I growl grabbing onto his shoulders roughly. I see him take in a deep breath.

"I-I took Lo'ak beyond the reef as a joke and left him there" he whispers making my blood run cold. Ao'nung seems to realize the situation he is in as I grab him by his neck, dragging him towards our hut.

While I am dragging him, I hear him mumble incoherently to himself. "What?!" I demand as we near the hut. "If Y/N followed us...they're both in trouble" he replies making me push him harder. I try to stay calm, but we were taught that beyond the reef was dangerous. For us, considering we were not trained for that environment yet. I push him into the Marui gaining father's attention as he stands up.

"Tell him!" I growl.

"Tell him what you told me!!"

~~~~~~~~~~

~ Lo'ak's POV~

A harsh cough ripples throughout my body as I strain to open my eyes. The sudden light caused me to struggle to keep them open. I groan wiping the water away, feeling around me. I feel a solid ground under me as I recall what just happened. We were under attack, then I was drowning. My grip on Y/N's hand was-

Wait....Y/N!

I look around me, seeing her laying down beside me, her eyes closed shut. I crawl towards her seeing her chest rise slowly. I feel relief seeing that she was breathing. "Y/N" I say shaking her softly. I watch her ears twitch at my voice as she slowly forces her eyes open. She looks at me, her eyes widening in shock. I couldn't explain the happiness I felt when I knew I wasn't alone and noticing that she was safe by my side made me that much more relieved.

Out of no where she pulls me in for a hug, at first, I am caught off guard, but I slowly melt into her embrace. She felt so warm but her body was shaking. I couldn't tell if it was from the cold temperature or out of fear. But I squeezed her back, nonetheless. We almost died, and her warmth reminded me how thankful I am to be alive.

"Lo'ak! You are safe. Thank Ewya" she says pulling away from me, looking over the few scratches I had on my face and shoulder.

"Yea, for now. What happened?!" I ask looking around us, as if on cue the 'ground' underneath us shakes with life, letting out a puff of air. I jolt at the sensation as Y/N looks down, her eyes widening. I lean back to get a better view of the large creature.

"It's a Tulkun!" She exclaims, a different kind of happiness taking over her features. She looked so happy, full of childlike wonder. I heard of the Tulkun, I also knew they were very important to Y/N and her clan. It made sense as to why she looked so happy and excited.

Taking her hand into mine, we swim closer to the head of the Tulkun. I guide her up beside me, as we sit upon its huge fin. I investigate the Tulkun's eyes. Feeling something within me stir. I felt as though I knew him, or that he knew me. I couldn't quite explain it. But it felt strong.

"You saved our life, thank you" I say staring at him. He kept my gaze as I also signed a thank you. Y/N does the same. The Tulkun watches us, humming. I let out a chuckle. It seemed to have responded to us it some sort of way.

"Buddy, I have no idea what you just said" I say trying to understand.

I feel Y/N lean over to me, her heat radiating off her on to me. I feel myself feel hot suddenly. She was so close "Oh my Ewya" I hear Y/N mumble turning away from me. I see her slip into the water, following her eyesight I see what looked to be a harpoon of some sort lodged into his fin. It looked painful.

"They hurt you, didn't they?" I realize. Going near it, I see Y/N trying to fiddle around with it. I look at the Tulkun. "We'll try to pull it out" I say.

Helping Y/N, we manage to take it out after struggling for a bit. As we resurface, I chuckle at the Tulkun who seems relieved. Y/N lovingly pets around its eyes to further comfort him. I swim closer.

"Friends" I say, signing the words. "We're friends" I repeat. Glancing over I see Y/N stare at the Tulkun fondly. He seems pleased as he swims around us happily. He seemed so happy, I notice Y/N hold on to his fin, motioning me over. I follow her grabbing on, the Tulkun purrs before going under water. I hold my breath watching Y/N's eyes look around us as we swim. Her wonderment making me let out a soft smile, also enjoying the ride.

After swimming around, as Y/N and I are still latched on to his fin, we seem to come to a stop. I could not help but love the smile on Y/N's face the entire time. She was enthralled by the creature, and so was I. I swim to the other side, Y/N follows close behind.

I immediately notice one of his fins was severed off. Feeling a wave of sympathy surge through me I look to the Tulkun. 'I'm sorry' I sign to him his chirps in response. I glance at Y/N. Who also seems pained at the sight. But I also seem to catch another look with her beautiful E/C eyes.

Fear.

~~~~~~

"We should head back Lo'ak" Y/N whispers from my side as we are on the surface, still with the Tulkun. It had become quite late as we swim near the rock formation we were at earlier. I glance at her seeing her look down at the Tulkun, her hands softly against his rough skin. She seemed to be in deep thought.

I noticed she seemed to on edge for the ladder part of our time together. Unable to put a finger as to why she was acting so strange I open my mouth to respond but get cut off when I hear distant calls.

"Lo'ak!!! Y/N!!"

"Y/N!!"

I hear calls erupt as I see some Metkayina's ride in their Skimwing. Out of instinct Y/N and I duck out of sight. Y/N hisses looking down at the Tulkun. She seems to realize something as she glances at me. "Tell him to go, he can't be seen right now!" She whispers. I nod looking at him. "Go! I will see you again" I sign back as he swims away, disappearing into the depths.

~~~~~~~

~Third Person POV~

"The Sully boy has returned"

"We found Y/N!!!"

The horn signals the party's arrival as the clan is waiting for them to come to dry land. Y/N and Lo'ak are riding on a Skimwing, nestled behind warrior who swam it towards land. Y/N feels her ears flatten in fear as they come to a stop. Seeing the furious expressions on her family's faces.

She caught sight of Ao'nung first, his eyes looked relieved upon making eye contact, but her stomach turned thinking about what she and Lo'ak had to go through because of his stupid joke.

Lo'ak is first to get off, he reaches out his hand to help Y/N. She graciously accepts. The moment she is standing Tsireya leaps down, rushing to her sister. She grabs her hands and her face looking them over. "Oh my Ewya, Thank you" Tsireya whispers to herself making Y/N look at her sister fondly, forgetting the crowd that surrounded them.

Lo'ak turns to the chief seeing Ao'nung. He looked defeated, sad even. But all Lo'ak could feel was rage. He was the reason why he was almost killed, why Y/N was almost killed. He took a threatening step towards him, but his father intervenes.

"Hey, let's have a look at you" Jake says looking his son over. Noticing a few scratches, he lets out a sigh. He glances at Y/N, who seemed unscathed as well.

"He's fine, he's fine. Just a few scratches" Jake assures turning to the clan. The clan moves aside as Neytiri, and Ronal come into view. Ronal quickly rushes to her daughter, who was already being inspected by her younger sister. She quickly looks her over for any serious damage.

Neytiri walks to Lo'ak, an unforgiving expression on her face. Neteyam and Kiri are last to arrive. Neteyam's shoulders relax upon seeing Lo'ak, safe. He turns to see Y/N, being held tightly by her mother who was whispering things into her ear, a relieved look on her face.

"I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son" Neytiri growls at Lo'ak who looks away. Tonowari raises his hand in protest.

"No, my son knows better than to take him outside the reef, the blame is his" he turns to Y/N. Ronal steps aside, placing the H/C girl in view of everyone. She looks down at the attention. "Y/N. What happened" Tonowari demands, wanting to know how his daughter got caught up in all of this.

Jake takes this opportunity to usher his son and his family away, but Lo'ak stops him, seeing the distressed look on Y/N's face made him feel brave as he faced the chief.

"No, this is not Ao'nung's fault. This was my idea. He tried to talk me out of it, Y/N was at the wrong place at the wrong time...she saved me. If it were not for her, I wouldn't be here right now" he states causing mummers to spread amongst the clan.

Tonowari sighs looking to his daughter as Ronal makes eye contact with her son. Deep down knowing her son was at fault. Jake let's out a sigh effectively pulling his son away as they disappear into the crowd. Neteyam turns to glance at Y/N one last time, seeing her face look glum as she looked down. He knew Ao'nung was at fault, and he knew he was deeply responsible for having his sister get involved. Neteyam wished he could stay behind to check on her, but right now his family needed him.

"Is this true?" Tonowari asks quietly. Y/N looks up, her eyes pleading. She did not want to open her mouth. If she spoke the truth Ao'nung would be in bigger trouble even though Lo'ak tried to save him.

Ronal let's out a sigh noticing her daughters' nonverbal response. "Let's go home, we'll discuss this there" she explains taking her daughters with her. Tonowari sighs dismissing the clan. As Y/N follows her family, her head is elsewhere.

She could not seem to get the Tulkun, who she recognized was Payakan. Out of her head. She couldn't help but wonder why they were spared when they should have died.

~~~~~~~~~~~

~Y/N's POV~

I look up at the roof of the Mauri, I could not seem to catch any well needed rest. It was like my eyes refused to close. I couldn't stop thinking about Payakan, the young bull Tulkun who was known to kill his own, and Na'vi boys as well not too long ago. The story was known, everyone in the clan was weary of his existence and choosing to stay away as he was an outcast.

That being said he saved us, he went out of his way to attack the Akula, effectively saving Lo'ak and I. If he was the killer, they say he is. How and why did he choose to save us? Were the stories even true? I begin to question everything while turning onto my side. I spot Tsireya in deep sleep beside me. She looked exhausted. She cried herself to sleep after I briefly told her what had happened.

The poor girl was terrified. Seeing her cry for me was heart wrenching, especially since I couldn't do anything about it. I silently sit up, realizing that I would not be able to sleep even if I tried. I glance at Ao'nung's form. He has not said anything except a quite sorry before he fell asleep. I should have responded, but I felt anger towards him which outweighed my proper judgement.

Glancing at the separate part of the Mauri I quietly get up, making my way outside. The cool air hits my face taking away any traces of sleep I had in me. Smiling softly to myself I walk towards the sand, wanting to stare out into the sea, hoping it would lull me to sleep. I find myself walking to the familiar sandbank, finding my spot I sit on the sand. Though the air was sharp and cool, the sand was warm and inviting.

I pull my knees up against me staring into the sea, which reflected the beautiful array of stars above. My thoughts, once again drift to Payakan. If the stories were indeed wrong, what could I do to rectify that? He is alone, an outcast. Tulkun's thrive in huge pods. He must be miserable. Maybe when the Tulkun's arrive I could convince Saeyla to visit him, my spirit sister.

She was just like me, the perfect daughter to her mother. But she was also quite mischievous, always trying to write her own rules. I don't think it would take much convincing on my part to get her to meet Payakan.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't realize someone had snuck up on me, sitting themselves right beside me.

"Can't sleep?" I hear Neteyam whisper from beside me. My head whips around to see him, sitting beside me, his arms supported his body as he leaned back, his eyes on the stars.

“Same goes for you?”

"How can I? Lo'ak almost died.... You almost died...Again" he whispers.

My eyes widen, meeting his. They looked so sad, so broken. He searched my eyes carefully before sitting up straighter. "Y/N, Lo'ak told me about what happened. That an Akula attacked you.... you guys could have died" he mummers his eyes glistening slightly. I frown, I didn't want him to be this upset.

"And earlier today, you stopped breathing..." he adds taking my hand into his. I could feel his hands shake against mine. "I don't know if my heart can take any more scares" he admits looking into my eyes. I see them pleading, pleading for an answer to his many questions.

"I'm a warrior, I'm trained to hunt, I'm trained to watch over my people, my family. I'm trained to stay strong" he says softly.

"But I don't know how much more I can handle. I have so many responsibilities, I don't want to let anyone down" watching him so vulnerable I feel myself also well up with tears. Everything I've went through weighing down on me. Neteyam reaches up, wiping the stray tear I am unable to hold. He lets out a sigh as I look into his eyes. I didn't want him to look at me as if I were a freak, I wanted to tell him, but it would kill me if the gaze he held toward me turned into that of disgust.

"Neteyam"

"Hm.." he hums not looking away from me.

"Will you accompany me on a swim?" I see a tiny smile break through.

"Of course, Y/N."

~~~~~~~

Neteyam and I stare at the stars' above, after he had agreed on coming with me, I brought him to our spot. Once we had sat down, he seemed to relax. Neteyam looked at peace as he sat there, probably remembering his home like last time. I could not help but feel proud, he loved the place that brought me nothing but comfort.

"Can... we talk?" I hear Neteyam ask politely. I nod, turning my body so I am facing him cross legged. He does the same, his focus long gone from the stars above. "What do you want to know?" I ask fiddling with my fingers nervously. I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to this conversation. "Well, how about when you went to look for Ao'nung" he says watching me. I nod looking up to him, as I open my mouth.

"Well, I went to look for Ao'nung. After searching I couldn't find him anywhere. When I noticed Lo'ak leave on his Iiu, I decided to follow him-" I say, watching how intently he was listening to me, holding onto every word that left my mouth.

"-when I overheard Ao'nung suggest going hunting beyond the reef I decided to follow them. I knew I didn't have enough time to come back just in case they ran into danger.....after following them we made it to three brother's point" I explain as he nods, urging me to continue.

"Is this when you sent Atan away? He came swimming, trying his best to get our attention. It was then I realized you must've been where Lo'ak was" Neteyam says making me smile. "So Atan went to you? Thank you for understanding the situation" I say, almost missing how his deep blue cheeks grew deeper in color.

"When I found Lo'ak he was being attacked. Ao'nung was long gone and I had to help him.... we almost died" I say feeling Neteyam's breath hitch. "You must have been so scared..." He says, making me nod in response. I was indeed scared, scared for my life as well as Lo'ak's. I didn't think any one of us would make it out. "Luckily, we made it! Lo'ak's breathing has improved a lot, it really came in handy. Though I had to provide some air to him, I didn't th-"

"What?" Neteyam interrupts.

I stare at him quizzically.

"What? what do you mean you had to give him air?" he asks, sitting up straighter.

"We had to wait out the Akula, and he was running out of air. I had to supply him with some air" I explain nonchalantly. Neteyam visibly frowns. "How did you..do it?" he ask genuinely curious. I tilt my head wondering why he was so invested in a very minor part of the story.

"Orally of course. How else?" I say, in a questioning tone. I see Neteyam grit his teeth as he hears my response.

"So, though a kiss?" he states the obvious.

My face heats up at what he entails. I quickly shake my head and hands around me frantically wiping the thought. "It was for an emergency! It can't be considered a kiss!!" I say still feeling quite flushed. Neteyam does not look impressed before he brushes it off. He looked a little angry.

"Then the Tulkun saved you, correct?" he asks.

Clearly, he had heard the story from Lo'ak already. I nod before my thoughts trail me away. "I didn't see the Tulkun in my vision though..." I mummer quietly deep in thought. I did see myself drown though, I felt it.

Forgetting I was with Neteyam when he speaks up, it catches me off guard. "Your vision?" he asks. I look at him, feeling the blood leave my face out of fear. Had I said that out loud? Clearly, I had, because Neteyam was holding my fearful gaze. Waiting for an answer. Taking a deep breath in I look to my hands, not feeling brave enough to tell him head on.

"E-Ever since I was little, I've had visions...Weird visions that would later come true. I thought it was a fluke but as time went on it proved that whatever I had seen in my visions came true...and that is it was being shown to me" I say barley above a whisper. Hoping maybe he didn't hear me.

"Is that why you fainted? During the altercation today?" Neteyam asks. Still with my head hung low I nod. "Yes, whenever I get visons, I pass out. After a few minutes I will awake from what I see. Until then I'm out cold" I explain. I hear Neteyam's uneven breathing. Was he freaking out? Did he want to run away and never look back? Was he scared of me?

"Who else knows?" I hear him say. Surprised by the question I look up. My eyes widen when they meet his beautiful yellow ones, filled with worry. Over me. And concern, over me. I feel myself choke a little before I continue. "Tsireya, Ao'nung and another friend of mine.....now you" I admit. His eyes widen as if realizing something. "That's why Ao'nung completely flipped when you passed out. He knew you were having a vision" he sates. I nod biting me lip nervously.

Neteyam seems to catch on and grabs my hand. "Y/N, I believe you. Kiri, my sister told me about the episode you had with her. She also has moments like this where she is unreachable. We believe she gets lost within nature. Within Ewya. You are special, just like her." he says softly making me hold my breath at his kind and loving words.

"Y-you don't think I'm a freak?" I ask trying my best to hold back my tears. Neteyam lets out an amused laugh at my expense.

"Never, my sweet girl. You have a gift, from Ewya herself. How could this be anything but good?" feeling myself lose composure I jump into his arms, my tears run freely as he squeezes me close to him. "Thank you" I whisper against the crook of his neck, unable to think of anything else to say.

Neteyam believed me, he trusted me, and he said I was special. How could I be blessed to have a friend so understanding? I gently pull away wiping my face embarrassed. Neteyam is smiling wide, fangs and all. A sight I wanted to engrave into my brain.

"So... when you were with Kiri. What did you see?" Neteyam asks as we settle down.

"I saw which part of the beach you guys were at. I also saw myself with Tuk. Feeding the baby Iiu" I say smiling at the memory. "Do you get to choose what you see? Does it come at random?" he questions me.

"No, I cannot choose what I want to see. They appear at random...it's been years since I've had my visons. They just started recently" I admit as he nods back. Taking in a deep breath he looks to me serious. "What did you see earlier today?" I feel my stomach clench.

"I saw someone, I didn't realize it was Lo'ak at the time, being chased by a Akula. I then saw myself.... drowning" I say looking down. Neteyam squeezes our interlocking hands. "Is that why you stopped breathing?" he asks making me shrug. "I'm not sure, its the first time that's happened" I admit.

Neteyam nods in understanding before letting go of my hand. "Y/N, I want you to know you can confide with me regarding anything. I'll try to be there for you when you have your visions as well" he says softly. I look to him giggling. He raises an eyebrow in question.

"You are so kind Neteyam. Sometimes I wonder why you care so much for me....thank you"

~Neteyam's POV~

My breath hitches at her words, my heart beating wildly in my chest. 'Why did I care for her so much' I question. I cared and loved my family; I would do anything for them. But why did I also feel this special connection with Y/N. She was not family, she wasn't even Omaticayan. I did not care for her family as much as I cared for her, or for any other Metkayina.

Why did she mean so much to me? Was it because she stood up for my family when we first arrived?

Y/N smiles softly at me, her smile lit up her entire face, beautiful eyes twinkling under the moonlight. I watch her peer up into the sky. The way the white stripes and dots that decorated her body seemed to glitter and glow; it made her look ethereal. It was unlike anything I've ever seen. I've seen many beautiful Metkayina's, even beautiful Omaticayan's back home. But none held a candle to her.

"Thank you for listening to me Neteyam" Y/N says, her gaze still trained onto the sky. Her voice held a melody I knew I would always answer to. It was as if I always looked for her, always looked forward to seeing her, hearing her, being near her. Whenever I left the comfort of our Marui I always felt myself actively seek her out. The weeks she had disappeared felt like my heart was being ripped into shreds.

Then it clicked.

Why when we first met, I felt as though the wind was knocked out of me.

When she stood up for my family, I could not help but admire how beautiful she looked standing tall amongst her people. How the water cascaded down her enticing figure when we first entered the water, how graciously she swam to go looking for Kiri.

The way she would look at Tuk, as if she couldn't be any happier.

The first night she brought me here, curing my sadden homesick heart in the process. The way her eyes light up as I told her stories about my home, how she genuinely seemed interested and wanted to learn more. I could not forget the way my cheek burned when her lips pressed against them, I desperately wanted to burn the feeling into my head. I felt like I wanted more, needed more.

Her disappearance effecting me greatly, and when she came back the heartbreak I felt upon seeing her worn out state.

The anger that surged trough me when Lo'ak touched her, when I saw how his pupils dilate upon her when he stared her way. It was unforgivable, I cant believe I wanted to beat up my own brother over a touch and glance.

The rage I felt when I saw her hurt, due to her stupid brother and friends. The feeling of wanting to tear everything apart was so strong at the time.

And when she fainted, how it felt like my life was ending when I noticed her lack of breathing. It was as if I was going to lose her. I would never be able to see her smile again, never have her look up at me with those alluring E/C eyes. I wouldn't hear her contagious laugh, I wouldn't be able to feel her warmth that my body seemed to crave.

My breath hitched, it seems harder and harder to breathe as I rack though all those memories. My feelings were so clear, I was just stupid not realizing it.

My eye's trace her features. She didn't know it, but she had taken every part of me, she HAD every part of me. She whisked them away the moment our eyes met. I should have known from the start. My denial all this time had just delayed the inevitable truth. But now, I had to come to terms with it. She had my heart. My soul.

I am in love with Y/N.

________________________________ A/N: Yikes!!! That was so long!! Also, Neteyam finally realizes he is in love with Y/N!!!! YAYYYY!! One down, two more to go!

@highlady-ofthe-summercourt @avatar4life @juneonhoth @blushsage @lilgurlbeoncrack k @anxietydrogz @arminsgfloll @yeosxxx x @zootymcnooty

165 notes · View notes

fe-fictions · 11 months

Note

Could we please get some Claude baby train? 🙌🏻

(YES!! Here's Claude meeting his twins for the first time ;;; U ;;; )

“Claude?”

The man whose feet were sore from fidgeting and pacing and running around the castle to rid himself of his anxiety-induced adrenaline stopped moving for the first time in hours.

“Er… something… something’s happened.”

Immediately the panic slammed into him like a ton of bricks.

“What do you mean?” He launched forward, grasping Marianne’s shoulders when she opened and shut the door, the delivery room having been sealed off to him for hours on end, already.

He had taken you there nearly a full day ago, let them whisk you inside, lock the doors, and get to work delivering your child.

His child.

A baby you’d made together and you had been suffering hours on end to bring into the world. He couldn’t help the pangs of guilt he felt between rushes of excitement and general worry, and this was one of those moments.

“I-it’s not necessarily bad.” Marianne continued with a nervous glance towards the room, “It’s just… there’s a bit more than we anticipated.”

“Marianne, you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on. Talking to me like this isn’t making the situation any less terrifying.”

“I know, I-I’m sorry, we just… we weren’t expecting to deal with so much! Granted, Byleth and the babies are fine, but it’s still going to be difficult considering-”

“Wait.”

Claude’s eyes narrowed, expression darkening.

“Did you say ‘babies’?”

“I… they’re… twins, Claude. Byleth gave birth to twins.”

His expression morphed into one of shock and disbelief. He released her, hands limp at his sides. “Twins?”

She nodded. “Twins.”

“Twins…” Numbly, he sank onto the nearby bench (if it hadn’t been there he likely would have collapsed), running a hand through his hair “Wha… twins?”

“They’re both healthy, as far as we can tell… they’re just very quiet, and small, and… well, they’re like Byleth. Their hearts don’t exactly beat.”

“…Are they dead?”

“Claude, please- I just told you they’re like Byleth!” Marianne chided him, “Don’t think like that!”

“I-I’m sorry, you just… they’re missing heartbeats, but they’re… they’re okay right?”

“Right… As far as we can tell. Byleth seems to be happy with both of them, and they are breathing normally, so… w-we just need to monitor them for a while. That’s what I meant to tell you.”

“I see.” He exhaled shakily, leaning forward with his elbows digging into his thighs. His hands locked together in front of his face, staring into space. “…Twins…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m- I think so. Are you fine?”

“I’m not the father of two new heirs to the throne.”

“Oh gods.” He chuckled nervously, leaning back as his hands went through his hair again. “Wow. Two babies. Two- what are they? Boys? Girls?”

“One of each.” She smiled at him, “It’s too early to tell which one looks the most like which parent, but… I think the girl looks more like you.”

He laughed weakly; it was more out of shock than humor. “Oh my gods. How are we going to handle two kids at once?”

“You’re royalty, Claude- you don’t have to worry about any of that stuff.” Marianne reminded him, “Besides, if anything you’re the only one worried about this in the first place. Byleth’s perfectly calm.”

“She’s always calm.” He said with a shrug and a wobbly smile, “And… I’d like to see her.”

“I hoped so.” She replied as she rose, “Let me see if she’s awake.”

He watched as she quietly returned into the room, mumbling something to the other nursemaids. He tried to peek past her, spotting the top of your head in the bed at the back of the space, though he couldn’t see much more.

What he heard, however, were the squeaks and curious noises of some very small newborns. He nearly burst past Marianne at the sound.

“She’s ready for you.” She told him before he had a chance, “Just remember to be quiet, and gentle. You don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He brushed past them, waiting impatiently for all the nursemaids to exit and give the royal family some much-needed alone time.

The second it was shut he turned on his heel, slipped off his boots that clicked a little too loudly on the floor, and slipped the gloves from his hands, wanting to have as few barriers between him and his new family as possible.

“You’re… fidgeting.”

He perked at your voice, his head snapping up to find you watching him with amusement in your eyes. He just shrugged and slid his cape off, tossing it onto a chair nearby before he made his way to your bed.

“I’m just trying to make this as easy as possible. I just want to really hold you, y’know?” Claude responded, searching the sea of blankets for the bundles he’d been waiting to meet for nine months. “I, uh… I heard a rumor we had a little surprise during the delivery.”

“Two surprises, technically.” You told him with a tired smile, shifting against the pillows and lifting your arms just enough to reveal a pair of swaddled up blankets. “But one that was most unexpected. She’s… full of surprises, just like you.”

“I heard she’s got my hair.” He breathed, trying his hardest to find a joke, or some sort of levity.

But the gravity had never felt stronger. This was real. You, his wonderful, beautiful wife, had just given him two brand new little lives. This was all real and happening, after months and months that made it seem like a dream.

“Would you like to hold one?”

“I want to hold both of them,” He said honestly, “But I guess sharing is caring, huh?”

“You should meet your firstborn. Only by a few minutes, but… he’s a handsome little prince.” You mused, shifting closer as he settled onto the bed beside you, cautiously holding his hands out to receive the precious cargo.

The second that bundle of blue landed in his arms, Claude melted.

He could only stare in awe at the teeny tiny, soft and pink little person that was barely visible in his wrap. He definitely had your nose, and without a doubt the fair color of your hair was sticking out from the fabric. He tucked the little one to his chest, his face splitting into a warm grin.

“Hi there, little man… look at you… you’re definitely gonna be a mama’s boy, aren’t you? I can see it already.” He whispered, “Gods, he’s beautiful, Byleth. He’s so, so beautiful.”

You sank back into your pillows, sneaking a look of your son who was happily snoozing away in his father’s arms.

“He’s quite cute, isn’t he?”

“He’s gorgeous.” Claude exhaled softly, “Wow, he’s… I just… I love him so much I feel like I could burst, y’know? He’s so small… to think he’s gonna grow up to be the Archbishop’s heir. Maybe it’ll be a family thing.”

“I don’t know. It’s an awful lot of responsibility to put on a newborn. Besides, he seems to have more of your curious personality. I think it’ll suit her, better.”

“Her?” He looked over as you gently pulled back the blankets around the baby’s face. His eyes widened as he found himself looking at a tiny little girl with a shock of dark hair and a crinkled nose, annoyed that she was being revealed to the world.

“Ohh, ho ho. Look at that little girl.” He gave a teary laugh, drawing you into his chest and wrapping his free arm around you, peering down at his daughter. “Hi, sweetheart… look at her- she’s not a thing like her brother.”

“Marianne said they were… fraternal.” You explained with a yawn and a smile, shifting your daughter closer so Claude might look at her closer. “They’re still twins, they just won’t look alike as they grow up, and… you’re crying.”

Claude paused at your observation, blinking. “O-oh. Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You silly man.” You beamed at him, reaching up to brush away the tracks down his cheeks, “To think I was worried about you being a father. I think you’ll take the role on, well.”

“You kidding? There’s nothing I want more than to just stay in bed all day and be with you three. Haha, can you believe it? Two babies! I think we killed it on our first try.”

“Are you implying there are going to be more in the future?” You asked him with just a hint of worry that made him chuckle. He kissed your forehead, squeezing your shoulder.

“I’m not in any hurry, sweetheart. We’re gonna have our hands full as is, but… I’m not opposed to more tiny bishops and nobles running around if you’re not.”

“Let’s wait and see how we do with our first pair of gremlins.” You giggled, brushing your finger across your daughter’s nose. She squeaked in surprise to the delight of her parents, snuggling closer.

Claude settled down beside you, the two of you lying there with newborns settled on your chests, reveling in the beauty that was your precious family. It had been a long, trying delivery, but now… you had never been happier. You had your new family, now, altogether.

And you loved them with all your heart.

#claude #byleth #fe 16 #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe three houses #claudeleth #claude x byleth #family fluff #newborn fluff #newborn prompt #the TWINS are BORN #we love the babies #fe fictions #fe-fictions #f!byleth #fem!byleth #f!mu

90 notes · View notes

ten-cent-sleuth · 6 months

Text

A Galling Yoke, Part 13

<- Prev | Next ->

for the “It’s all my fault” and “You have to let me go” squares on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

“Oh, goodness, are you up and about already?” he exclaimed.

“W–William?” you managed to say.

“What are you doing out of bed and out here?”

“I? What am I doing here?” you stammered. “What are you doing in this flat at all!”

Your brother didn’t seem to hear you as he enveloped you in his arms, inadvertently breaking your contact with Sherlock to hold you tight. “Dear sister,” he said into your hair. “You looked so ill when I arrived. I was already worried when Holmes dropped me off at Voss House and you were not there, but when he detailed your condition upon appearing on his doorstep… I cannot believe you met that dreadful Mr Trew all by yourself—”

“Trew?” Somewhat reluctantly, you broke from the warm embrace to look at William. “Is that the name of the hired—” You were suddenly hyper-aware of Sherlock’s gaze on you. “That— That is, who is this Mr Trew you speak of, William?”

He gave you a sad smile. “Holmes knows everything, Sister. He came to see me last week, and as soon as he told me what you planned to do, I… I confessed all.”

Your skin felt as cold, as clear, as fragile as ice. “No.”

“Yes, I—”

“No, William,” you gasped, clutching at him. “You cannot—”

A steady hand landed on your shoulder. Softly, Sherlock said, “My lady, we need not make any decisions yet. Let us simply discuss the facts first, yes?”

With an exhale, you shakily released your anxiety. “All right.”

Still holding onto you, William led you to the dining table. “I have prepared breakfast,” he told you, tentatively, the way he used to shyly give you hand-crafted gifts as a child. Maybe that likeness was why you couldn’t help but smile kindly at him.

“Indeed? And do you manage food better than Sherlock?”

A strangled noise of outrage came from beside you, but you brushed it aside at your brother’s laugh.

“I should hope so!” he said. “I have been interested in the skill for years. It is an uncommon pastime for the heir apparent of an earl, I know, but it gets to be so lonely and empty at Jotyard Manor. My only enjoyment came from visiting with the tenants to manage the estate—which is how I was introduced to the world of baking and cooking. Of course, with Father usually looming over my shoulder, it has only been in recent months that I have been able to dedicate significant time to my hobby.”

Taking that in, you nodded. “Recently, he would have been far more occupied with Sherlock’s case than with ensuring you were the perfect heir.”

William’s smile wavered. “Indeed.”

“How did Father become involved at all?” you demanded.

“My last Season in Town, I met a…a woman. She was lovely, and accomplished, and thoughtful, and diverting, and I— I—”

“They fell in love,” stated Sherlock.

“Yes. The eldest daughter of the second son of a baron, Miss—”

“Goulding!” you exclaimed. “Miss Emily Goulding?”

Both men stared at you.

“How did you—?”

“Mere bavardage over tea.” You waved away their astonishment. “At least, I had thought it was. Dashed you not the lady’s hopes?”

He winced. “I meant not to, but I suppose I did, yes. When I decided I had found her who could be my partner in and for life, I…I remembered what I had done.”

A heavy silence fell over the table, so thick you felt suffocated.

“Miss Goulding was everything bright and perfect,” whispered William. “And I could not taint that with my sins. The realisation sent me spiralling, and before I knew it, I was confessing all to Father.”

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table. “I have seen it many a time before. The human need to unburden oneself—the urge to divulge. What is remarkable in this case is that Pashbroke did not merely want some soul to know his crime: he wanted the truth to come out to everyone.”

“But of course, Father would not allow that,” you said. Lord Coltidge had told you that much.

Sherlock nodded. “That is where I came in. He would have me uncover the murder but not the culprit—not the true one, at least. But when you”—he tipped his head in your direction—“threw all our evidence in the fire and claimed you had hired the killer, I knew it could not be so.”

The detective had slipped into his investigator trance, laying out simple facts with a gravity that was concentrated and cold, yet you somehow felt weightless and flushed.

“After thinking and planning for some days, I returned to Shropshire to see you”—this time, he tipped his head in William’s direction—“and as we filled each other in on the happenings, the pieces came together.”

“The letter,” you spoke up; it was the main piece you didn’t understand. “That was you, Brother, was it not?”

He had been avoiding your gaze, but abruptly, he met your eyes with a burnish to his. “I knew Sulyard would be a poor husband for you—at Harrow, he was known as temperamental and spoilt, which could have only been abidable by a wife of a different disposition than yours. I could not imagine the two of you agreeing on much and being happy together, but I was not aware that he was an utter…utter savage until I came to stay in Voss House with you for the first time.”

Carefully, you kept your face blank as you thought back to that period of your life. The arrangement was an unusual one, but it had worked for the two families involved: the Voss London home was part of your dowry, so it belonged to you and Edmund, with the caveat that your brother would get to use it during the Season until he married. Ultimately, William had only had to manage this awkward balance with Edmund thrice, each one progressively tenser as you tried to keep Edmund from blowing his top and William from seeing it. But the first time…

“Edmund was not so bad yet, in that first year of our marriage,” you said.

Sherlock’s lip curled into a snarl, but before he could make any biting remarks, William said flatly—

“I heard how he spoke to you. I saw how you hid away from him. You were not you, Sister; your light had dimmed, your life was being squeezed out of you—and I knew it was his doing.”

You swallowed hard, but your mouth had gone unnaturally dry. You hadn’t realised that…

“When I returned home,” continued William, “I tried to speak to Father, but he insisted that Sulyard had been a complete gentleman to him. So I wrote to Sulyard directly, if anonymously. I had hoped warning him about his behaviour would suffice, but when I returned the next Season, I saw it would not. I spent those months trying to think of a solution, but I—” Jaw clenched, he shook his head. “I was a fool for taking my time. So naïve was I that I even returned to Jotyard when the Season ended, thinking I could continue my planning from there. When Mrs Rogers wrote to us about your fall down the stairs, when I came straight to Town and saw for myself the brutality Sulyard was capable of…I knew I could waste no more time.”

“Perhaps you could have found another solution with a less panicked, less hurried mind,” said Sherlock. “But I understand entirely that your greatest concern in that instant would not have been finding the perfect plan, but taking too long to execute it and being…” He cleared his throat. “Being too late.”

To let them stew in their thoughts for a moment, you stood and fixed some plates for the three of you. They both really are affected by the idea of me being hurt. As strongly as you disapproved of William’s high-handedness in protecting you without involving you, you could appreciate now that he had not seen another option; if Edmund’s mistreatment really had been more visible than you’d thought, William must have known it would have proven difficult to get close enough to you that he could consult you with Edmund remaining none the wiser.

William’s breakfast really was delightful, but you stored that comment away for another time. “So,” you ventured, “the plan you came up with was this Mr Trew?”

Your brother picked at his food with more vigour than he nodded. “He is a mason who also offers his expertise with his hands and tools for…non-masonry-related work. We met a few times to work out our understanding, and he had seemed perfectly respectable, if a little rough around the edges.”

“For one who had such dark dealings,” cut in Sherlock.

“Yes, that,” conceded William. “It was not until the night of the actual, er, job that I learnt just how ruthless the man could be.”

You sucked in a breath. “You were there?”

“Not until the end,” he reassured you. You did not feel particularly reassured. “I had agreed to provide the phaeton for the set-up of Sulyard’s accident, so I had to be there eventually. But when I arrived, I saw the, ah…the woman with whom Sulyard had been spending the evening. Trew had thought her dead as well, but I ascertained that she breathed yet. I was horrified that she had been injured so grievously, and even more so when Trew hesitated not to finish her off.” He pushed away his plate with a clatter. “I had only wanted that degenerate Sulyard dead, not any innocent bystanders!”

You reached out and grasped his shaking hands in yours. “Of course, William. It is not your fault.”

“How can you say that?” he choked out.

Squeezing his hands, you waited until he looked up to speak. “Because I can guess”—you faltered at Sherlock’s sharp look and cleared your throat—“that is, deduce what happened next. Miss Algar is still alive and indeed under better care than she likely was with Edmund. You must have told Mr Trew that you would handle the eyewitness, that you would ensure she caused not any trouble. A man like that would not have been mollified by words, so you must have forced his hand—you used yourself as insurance, did you not?”

With a few surprised blinks, William’s distress dissipated from his face. “Yes, it was so. I had, needless to say, agreed to keep quiet about Trew’s hand in Sulyard’s death, but I refused to do so about Miss Algar. I would be willing to implicate myself if he harmed her any further, and to avoid that, he would have had to silence both of us. With my help, Sulyard could be made to disappear, and an unmarried spinster with no family would vanish easily enough, but Trew would not risk killing the Earl of Coltidge’s only son.” He paused. “Yes, indeed. You are rather good at this, Sister.”

Sherlock’s sly grin of agreement shone in your periphery, but you shoved away the butterflies in your stomach in favour of staying focused.

“Well, Mr Trew must be regretting that decision now,” you said. “He believes a connection has been uncovered between Miss Algar and him. I doubt he shall continue as he has been with that loose end prodding at him.”

“Not to mention the added loose end of his encounter with you,” said Sherlock.

Flinching, William yanked his hands out of your grip. “Oh, dear heaven! I forgot all about your injuries—”

“Oh, Brother—”

“Sherlock told me about your head wound and your burns and your—”

“William.”

“He says this ‘second degree’ bosh means you shall be all right but I cannot help but think—”

“Pashbroke.” Sherlock’s interjection is a clean cut, short and neat. “The head wound is already nicely healed. The burns were only partial-thickness and posed no complications—I doubt a faint scar shall even be noticeable by Christmas.”

You considered the spotless, precisely wrapped dressing around your hands. “Is that so?”

“Yes, I am fairly confident,” he said, turning to you now. “From your description of the incident and from the look of the injuries at first and at subsequent intervals where I cleaned your bandages, I would say the current had not been so strong.”

An unexpected rush of guilt-polluted air escaped your lungs. “Would you say, then, that Mr Trew was not overly harmed by his shock either? Not…killed?”

A beat passed. William’s expression morphed more dramatically, but Sherlock’s reaction was faster—without hesitation, he leaned forward and bent his head to look straight into your eyes.

“I assure you, my lady, if any harm has befallen him, it is not your fault.”

Your head moved up and down in agreement, but to your own surprise, tears began to flow down your face. “This is all such a mess. I want not Mr Trew to die, nor can we let him hurt anyone at Cable Street or us ever again. I want not to go to Scotland Yard, nor can I let my little brother be punished for saving me. Such a mess—and it is my fault, Sherlock. How are we to fix any of this? Oh,” you sobbed, “it is all my fault.”

He was out of his seat and moving towards you before you were finished speaking, yet William stopped him with a quick hand on his arm.

“Holmes, would you please excuse us?” he said. “I think a candid conversation is long overdue between my sister and me.”

Though he hesitated, and did not look particularly pleased, Sherlock bowed his head and made himself scarce. Not pulling his punches, William immediately turned to you and said, “You have only just made me accept that I am not at fault, and you go and blame yourself?”

Having no idea how to respond—had your brother ever spoken so frankly to you, or to anyone, before?—you focused on cleaning your face with a napkin.

“This is not a question of fault transferred, Sister, but of burdens shared.”

“I want not to burden you either—”

He stunned you speechless with an uncharacteristically sharp shake of his head. “Why not? A heavy load is not necessarily a bad thing, or else there would be no joy to be had in exploring the world with your belongings on your back, no satisfaction to be found in the physical labour of a tenant-farm or of a modest kitchen.”

“But this is not your heavy load, William.”

“It is no evil to share a burden if one chooses to make it a connective affair rather than a…budgetary one.” At the arch of your eyebrow, he explained, “I allow that this is a poor metaphor. But why keep track of assets and liabilities instead of the bridges they build? After all, what made our bond is our Hyatt blood and Voss name, but what made our bond inimitable and special is the loss of our mother together, the loneliness of our childhood home, the limelight of being the Earl of Coltidge’s offspring.”

As he paused to take a breath, you reached out and, this time, held him tight.

He went on, “Rather than defy it, we ought to be grateful for what we have shared, burdens or not, for by that connection, I shall never lose you.”

“I would hold onto that connection no matter what,” you whispered against his shoulder. You ached with the recollection of the times he would skin his knee or be upbraided by a tutor, and you would pick him up or hug him close and let him cry into your neck. Your arms would start to slip around him and your skin would get covered in mucus, but oh, what you wouldn’t give now for the power you had then, however minimal, to reassure, to protect, to shield him.

Your brother—your little brother, heavens—cupped the back of your head and held you fast. “I have no doubt of it,” he said. “Because we shall always be brother and sister, you have to let me go—”

“William,” you begged.

“—and because we shall always love and be connected to each other, I know you can.”

Screwing your eyes shut, you leaned fully into him and stayed there for a very long time.

At some point, you managed to pull away with a sigh. “You have become rather wise, have you not, Baby Brother?”

He wrinkled his nose. “There is no need for such a sobriquet. You are not that much older than I.”

“Evidently, I am also losing ground in emotional maturity.”

“And worldly experience.” A smile, timid but bright, spread across his face then. “Did you know, I did always envy you your widow’s freedom? Without fail, I was despondent when I returned to Father’s shadow after my annual stay in Town, but this year, I have started actively chafing at his restrictions and observations. I am almost looking forward to the shedding of my viscountcy.”

Your brow rose. “Truly? You are ready to be cast off as an unspeakable name in the Voss family and make your own way in the world?”

“Well, I am ready to learn to be ready,” huffed William. Neither of you, then, was under the illusion that losing access to all that privilege and all those funds would be a smooth transition. “Though, of a certainty, I shall make use of the connexion one last time: to escape the hangman’s noose and avoid the French’s national razor.”

A cold sweat passed over you, yet you found comfort in his words. Lord Pashbroke may not be an actual peer of the realm—not yet, or ever now—but as a titled gentleman, he still was unlikely to be condemned to death. The “Lord” before his name might only be a courtesy, but courtesy had its perks.

“Wherever you are sent,” you promised him, “you may write to me for assistance of any kind, at any time. You shall not be completely friendless in the world.”

His smile turned bold, a sight you had never been granted before, as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I know.”

The two of you stood and cleared the table, cleaning up side by side, surprisingly in sync for siblings who had never done housework, never mind balanced it together, prior to that morning. And as you did, you reminisced over cosy memories of Jotyard Manor and the handful of escapades that had somehow remained secrets between the two of you. You seized the opportunity to tell each other things you had never found the time to before—apologies and affirmations alike—and gratitude really did creep up on you. Many people did not get this opportunity to say goodbye, you knew.

Still, your heart leapt to your throat when Sherlock returned: you did not want this time with your brother to end. Sherlock must have read something in your mien, for he actually resembled a fish for a moment before managing to speak.

“Is… Is everything decided, then?”

You looked at William with wide eyes. If he had suddenly changed his mind, you would not blame him and would still happily take his place. But there was a firm set to his jaw that looked unfamiliar yet not unsuitable on him.

“Yes,” he replied. “In fact, I should not like to drag my feet any longer. I shall head to Scotland Yard now, before any more obstacles or incidents arise.”

Sherlock’s nod was level, but the flex of his previously taut hands betrayed his relief. “You ought not to be alone for that. Besides, my escorting you can ensure that the constabulary gets the correct message.”

That shot another dose of stress through your nerves. “I would come, too,” you said.

Sherlock pulled back his shoulders. “No, my lady, you must remain here. Your body is still recuperating from your illness.”

And your knee from pushing it, the reasonable, responsible part of your brain added traitorously.

William took your hand and squeezed your fingers. “This past hour we have received is, I believe, a very good adieu,” he said softly. “Please, let us not change it?”

And you could not deny him that.

You walked them to the door of the flat, and Sherlock let William exit first.

“Be well, Sister,” he said with one last hug. “I love you, and I thank you for everything. Everything.”

You watched him start down the stairs so intently that you didn’t notice that Sherlock wasn’t following.

“I hope you shall not worry yourself too much,” he said, and startling, you turned to look at him. “His lordship shall be all right. And whatever does happen, this is not your fault. I apologise for my hand in making you think that it was.”

You startled again. “Your hand?”

His eyebrows beetled solemnly. “I should not have reproved you for marrying Sulyard. I acted as though you were foolish and weak for not fighting your father’s wishes and for growing into the perfectly poised lady you never were at Ferndell when, in truth, doing so was the wisest, bravest way for you to survive. Of all the players in this game, you have gained the least and lost the most.”

In spite of your brother’s uncertain fate and Mr Trew’s unknown next moves and the general surfeit of emotions about everything, you felt a smile break out on your face. “Oh, Sherlock.” You didn’t know what else to say, so you settled for stepping into his space and pressing a kiss to his cheek, which lingered until you found the words. “You should not worry, either. I think I too shall be all right.”

And you realised, after going back into 221b to watch and wait, as you pondered William’s words, that you truly believed you would be.

And with that, the mystery has been fully revealed to the reader! It has been an incredible journey; thank you all so much for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting. But fear not—we’ve still got other plotlines to wrap up. :) Also, William was surprisingly tricky to write, and I’m not fully satisfied with the dialogue flow, so as always, feedback is welcome!

Taglist [comment below if you’d like to be added!]: @theyaremorethanjustfictional @wonderlandfandomkingdom

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

47 notes · View notes

ratedfleur · 3 months

Note

i need more dirty talk w hao & ganda.. tagalog dirty talk is just something else 😵‍💫 hao and ganda getting home from pogi’s game all angry n stuff bc another athlete from the rival team hit on her, tapos alam mo naman si hao! syempre di nya yan palalagpasin. him degrading her all while rough fucking her with HIS jersey on.. basta dirty talk & degrading w hao! fic sana hehe

had been nearly an hour since you and hao got home after his game sa moa arena, as usual, some nobody from the rival’s team was hitting on you so hao was on the angrier side more than usual despite winning the game.

he had you underneath him, stomach lying flat on the bed as he pounded away, taking his anger out on you when he remembered how kupal the guy was kasi nga naman he was blatantly flirting with you even is kilala kayo ni hao as thee campus couple.

“i just fucking hate it when people do that, i hate it when people look at what’s mine. akin ka lang dapat, akin lang.” hao muttered while punctuating each period with a hard thrust, making you whimper as you held onto his arm that was slightly squeezing your neck.

“i-i’m yours, baby. sa’yo lang— god, ang sarap aahh!” you moaned before hao licked your earlobe, “sarap no? sakin ka lang makakatikim ng ganiyan, wala kang mapapala sa nagkakanda-rapa sa harap mo.” hao smiled when you cried out, nails digging into his skin before he quickened up the pace, making you moan out loud.

“oh my god, yes baby.. ikaw lang! ah fuck, baby harder please!” you moaned out once more, making hao slightly get up, pulling you up with him as he got you on your fours, making it easier to fuck and pull you off of him at the same time.

he has his hands digging right into your skin, because of how tight he was holding you, alam mong magpapantal yan right after.

hao’s thrusts were ruthless, ears blocking out your begging and cries to slow down. his energy burned with eagerness and fury, taking it all out on your sweet cunt.

you on the other hand were tired, you wanted hao to make you and himself cum, spurting ropes of cum to ease his anger. but it’s not that easy, kailangan papaiyakin ka muna.

“cumming already, my love? intay ka muna, hmm? can’t let you cum without me eh ako nagttrabaho dito. not unless gusto mo yung puta ka nalang?” hao chuckled as he fucked you, watching your ass bounce against his pelvis as he moved you back and forth against him as he thrusted into you.

you didn’t reply, how could you even reply when hao’s thrusts became even faster, fucking you in a animalistic pace.

“aw baby, putang puta ka na agad.” he cooed as he kept thrusting, now listening to your cries and sniffles as you shakily held yourself up, wanting to be his good girl.

he slightly bends down, one hand reaching down towards your core, index and pinky finger spreading your puffy lips before the middle and ring finger made contact with your clit, rubbing it harshly while simultaneously thrusting into you.

your cries become even louder, begging to make or even let you cum because you’re at the verge of doing so.

hao shakes his head even if he knew you can’t see him, still mindlessly rubbing and thrusting into you. his pace never slowed down even if you screamed that you were cumming, he went on and on with his thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm.

#mikha’s asks.#zb1 #— ganda & pogi #zb1 smut #zb1 hard hours #kpop smut #kpop hard hours #zb1 x reader #zhanghao hard hours #zb1 zhanghao #zhanghao smut #kpop hard thoughts

24 notes · View notes

averagewriter777 · 1 year

Text

Ghost and Doc (Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader)

Masterlist

Part Twenty-Six

Okay- I can't apologize for something I'm not really sorry for. So, yeah... I wrote a character sheet, based on my own headcannons and personalities if anyone is interested in knowing. Could provide some background for some characters. Anywho, enjoy :)

Upstairs in your room, you’d finally stopped crying and had fallen asleep. Your head was on Soap’s chest, his t-shirt was wet with the tears that you’d shed during the time. Apologies had been given for it, along with apologies to your… to Kennedy, Soap just rubbed your back and listened. This wasn’t something that he could shush you for, or tell you to dry your tears to…

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Soap very carefully pulled it out and unlocked it, squinting at the paragraph sent by Price to the 141’s group chat- funny that they had one. You were excluded from this old group chat because it was created before you’d arrived on the team. Ghost must’ve just gotten off the phone with him.

Captain: Alright, I won’t call a meeting for this, because Soap is with Doc. Due to these circumstances, (Y/n) (L/n) will be staying in America until she can get her bearings. She is in no position to be back on the field any time soon. At the moment, we are in contact with someone she’s close to outside of these walls. Sergeant Gary Sanderson, better known as Roach. He’s off assignment and will arrive in America as soon as possible. Once Roach arrives, you four will return here. We have information on the Hawk that needs to be taken care of ASAP. Thank Laswell when you get back.

Soap frowned at the entirety of the text Price had sent. He understood the situation, but he didn’t want to leave you on your own. You were like a sister to him at this point. And how the fuck do you know Roach? It will be a bitter greeting once the other man arrives considering his past with Ghost. Hopefully they will set that aside for your sake.

Soap: Copy that, Captain. One question though, how does she know Roach?

He set his phone down when you started to squirm and cry again. Soap looked to see that you were still sleeping and sighed. He noticed that Alejandro and Gaz replied with ‘copy’ as well, but Gaz added his curiosity as to how you knew Roach as well. Ghost remained dry in the chain, leaving Soap to assume he wasn’t entirely thrilled on the matter.

Captain: Her force worked together with his on an assignment in 2013, shortly after she joined SF. He claims they’re good friends and I’ll leave it at that. ETA is ten hours… best tell Doc when she’s available.

Soap looked down at you, seeing the tears coming back as you cried softly in your sleep. He decided at this time that you should wake up. He tapped your shoulders lightly. “(Y/n)? C’mon, lass, wake up…”

You woke up, almost choking on new sobs that were approaching. Soap held back a silent sigh and pulled you into another hug, continuing the rubs into your back. The apologies started again, and this time Soap decided to shush you- as a way to get you to calm down. “I-I’m sorry, John.”

“‘S okay. Don’t apologize,” Soap let go of you and smiled as gently as he could. “Umm… I was supposed to tell you this when you woke up. You’re going to stay here for the time being, heal up from what happened. Price found someone to take care of you while we go back to base- they discovered information that we can’t ignore.”

Found someone? You brought up your sleeve to wipe your eyes, exhaling shakily. “W-Who?”

Soap thinned his lips, but kept his smile. “Sergeant Gary Sanderson? A friend of yours.”

Roach couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to Fort Bragg. Nine years ago he’d been on assignment with a group of the soldiers, which included you in the group. It was difficult to get along with the others, so he stuck around you. Despite being a medical sergeant, he didn’t give a shit.

“Hey- two goldfish are in a tank, one turns to the other and says: ‘Do you know how to drive this thing?’”

“Shut the fuck up so I can fix your leg, please.”

A beautiful friendship it was- or is. The only disagreement the two of you had was when it came to Shawn, Roach didn’t like him from the beginning. He didn’t seem like the type of guy to match with someone who was deployed 24/7… but he let it happen, because you’re his best friend. He did, however, say: “I told you so” because you gave him permission.

What worried him the most at the moment and made him drop his little vacation was an old issue you had. He remembers after the divorce and custody agreement that you hugged alcohol like it was your best friend. Borderline alcoholic was what you became, and he flew all the way from Europe to snap you out of it.

“You didn’t lose your daughter! You still have visitation! You think she’d want this for you?! Do you want her to see you like this? At the bottom of a bottle, sad-drunk off your ass?” He sent you to AA meetings until you’d sobered up. Now, drinks were celebratory or around friends only.

Roach wondered if the 141 was aware of the way you positioned yourself around alcohol… probably not. He fiddled with his gloves at that, not wanting to explain what he’d be doing there to her team. Something told him they wouldn’t really approve- at least Ghost wouldn’t.

“Ugh… Ghost…” Roach scrunched his nose up at the thought of seeing that man. The burn scars along his skin made him think about the last time they’d been in the same area together. But he couldn’t dwell on that- he was here for you, not him.

You played with a necklace on your neck nervously while waiting for the plane to completely land. It had a picture of you and Kennedy in it, but you wouldn’t open it… not when you’d just finished crying again.

Soap watched you, just as nervously, then leaned into Ghost: “You sure this is going to be a good idea? She looks on edge here…”

“They haven’t been in the same room since her divorce with Shawn. I don’t know how this is going to go down, Sergeant. But these are Price’s orders, so we’ll follow.” Ghost didn’t sound happy himself, but nothing could be done about it- exactly like he said.

The plane had landed and the back was slowly opening. You walked slowly towards it, stopping where the exit was. A deep exhale left your lips as a man revealed himself from the back of the plane. Once he saw you though, he dropped his bags and hurried down, engulfing you in the tightest hug when he made it to the bottom. Your tears started to flow freely again.

“I got you, (Y/n)... I got you…” Roach rubbed the side of your head, muttering other things to you to get you to calm down. While doing so, his eyes trailed over to Ghost and narrowed.

A/N: Am I doing better?

Part Twenty-Seven

Taglist: @redpool, @calicokitkat, @abbiesxox, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @tescomealdeals-blog, @judachoo, @cabreezer0117, @reiya-djarin, @cutiecusp, @m0chac0ffee, @cassie-vizsla, @seasaltt99, @lazy-kari202, @comedinewithmeyeah, @somnibats, @badpvn, @peachy-is-obsessed, @bookoffracturedghosts, @dorck26, @adeptusnunya, @wonusbitch, @m00vp, @user1727381919

#ghost mw2 #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #mwii #captain price #ghost and doc #alejandro vargas #angst #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson

186 notes · View notes

qqtxt · 1 year

Text

[🐯] 1:11am wish (came true)

✿ pairing: beomgyu x you / female reader / angst if you squint, but mostly fluff, sexual innuendos but nothing explicit / 3,793 words / reader calls him ‘gyu’ / minor cursing / mentions of food and eating ✿ in which beomgyu returns back from tour, and the first place he stops by is your apartment, surprising you in the middle of the night. ✿ a/n: i couldn’t help myself! i think i like this pairing :”) my heART– [masterlist 🌸] / @kflixnet ✨

note: written in mind to be a continuation of ‘1:11am wish (you’ll stay)’ but can also be read as a standalone ;w;

seven more days, beomgyu promises. seven more torturous days and it’ll be over, he’ll be in your arms, you’ll be in his arms and he’ll never leave you (until the next announcement is released, so you’ll live in your fantasy as much as you want).

this time around, it’s... not to say it’s easier, but it feels like the tough days were easier to manage. there are still some bad days, as there are good ones. both of you were rather independent people; having alone time was something you two benefited from the time away but there... there are times where there’s crying over the phone, shakily recorded voice notes, unable to show each other’s face on video because of how badly the loneliness and longing affected the other’s face.

but there’s the good things, too. giddily smiling over each other’s photos being sent, promises like i’ll bring you here next time, just the two of us. it’s so pretty here. all i can think about is how perfect it would be if you were here with me. jokes like what if you come back and i have a dog? and beomgyu’s already barking with rejection of hell no. not yet. i can’t be fighting for your attention against a dog. i’ll lose.

then, there’s now. the present.

like... literally. beomgyu’s just landed and he has only one place on the top of his list: wherever you are.

the second they find their footing at the airport, he starts to move quickly with his manager as he detours away from the boys, promising to meet in a few days. they already see how happy he is despite wearing a mask and sunglasses, with his cap on. upon hopping into the van, luggage in the trunk, he pulls out his phone and sees the five messages that come from...

[y/n 💛] i’m gonna head to bed now, i feel tired today. goodnight and i love you, gyu 🧡🧡🧡 [1:10am]

[y/n 💛] oh sh [1:11am]

[y/n 💛] it’s 1:11!!! [1:11am]

[y/n 💛] i wish for you to come back now. right now. yes. just get on a damned plane and come back to me. [1:11am]

[y/n 💛] i’m kidding, i know you’ll be back in a few days but i just miss you, okay? anyway i’ll talk to you tomorrow 🥴 [1:11am]

with his tongue in cheek, he decides not to reply as he locks his phone and rests it on his lap. his manager is well-aware of where to drop him off, so no words are said on the way there. it does take a while, so he leans back in his seat and his foot is impatiently tapping on the floor. as he does so, he peeps at his phone and presses the lock screen button.

the time reveals to be 2:10am, but what catches his eyes is his lock screen image. if those saw it at a first glance, they won’t notice it. it’s at one of the places well-known for cherry blossoms and one might say it’s just an aesthetic photo of the scenery. but if you look closely, there’s your silhouette trying to reach for one of the flowers, only to huff when you can’t reach it and beomgyu remembers trying to help you reach it, only for the both of you to fall down into the pile of flowers and laugh when the pain subsides.

he remembers holding you, leaning in to kiss you and remembering just how magical it all felt. how it feels like when he’s with you. even in the simplest, most mundane and boring things felt fun with you. seriously, who the hell enjoys laundry? this guy, apparently, when the both of you make a dance beat with the sounds from the washing machine doing it’s last cycle and then trying to see who can hang the clothes the fastest. or how about that time–”yah, choi beomgyu, wake up.”

he snaps his eyes open with a flinch, now seeing his door is open with his manager–”oh... we’re here?”

“quickly go in before anyone sees you,” his manager chuckles, already placing his luggage on the sidewalk so that beomgyu can scurry on in. he doesn’t have too much trouble making his way up, and all the buffering in between is only making him feel more and more anxious to get to you; to see you, to hold you–oh god, to have you in his arms.

beomgyu stands by your apartment door and fumbles for the key in his wallet. he brings it with him everywhere and makes sure he has a spare in his bag just in case, but he always has one in his wallet. he fishes it out next to the slot of a polaroid image of the both of you; smiling, it was on his birthday and it was a private celebration at his parent’s house where his older brother took the photo for the pair of you–i can’t believe my brother found someone who matches his energy... can you please tame him, somehow? beomgyu scoffs a laugh when he glances at the picture, more so at the memory.

his eyes looking at the key reminds him what he’s here for and he’s so shaky he can’t even open the door properly. he manages with whatever glimmer of stability he has left and he trudges in. his eyes snap shut when he makes a bunch of noise on his way in but sighs when it all falls quiet. (well, it better be, it’s literally two in the morning)

he puts his bags down to the side quietly and removes his jacket, mask, sunglasses and cap. he gives himself a little shake and exhales deeply before he start to make his way to your bedroom. your door is left ajar, to which he places his hand on it to push it open enough for him to step through.

the light that shines from your hallway dimly illuminates the feature on your face as you slept facing the door this time. what a blessing. he resists the urge to take a photo, knowing very well he’ll mess that up, and quite frankly, he can’t think straight at the sight of seeing you.

you’re here, he’s here. this is all real. hours, days, weeks and months leading up to this moment and he’s having a heart attack on his own before passing on that virus to you. he carefully gets on his knees, kneeling before you as he has one hand on your waist, the other stroking the side of your head.

“y/n,” he calls out softly, careful not to startle you, but he’s trying so, so hard not to be impatient. “y/n, wake up.”

it takes a couple of seconds when you make sounds and shift a little, but soon your eyes peel open. he smiles at you softly, stretching out to a grin but then it starts to fade when you don’t react the way he thought you would. either squealing out of bed and jumping into his arms, tackling him on the floor. or combusting into a bundle of joy, scream, shout, anything.

it was the opposite.

you looked... sad. (and still so beautiful that it doesn’t feel fair)

“i can’t believe this is happening again...” you murmur quietly, one of your hands tucked to hug yourself, the other meekly reaching out to touch his face. he gapes at your touch and tries not to move as he watches you, seeing how sadness continues to fill your eyes the more you stare at him, thumb stroking his cheek. “it feels so real.”

he can’t stop himself, the words come out before he can filter it: “what does?”

it hits him.

it finally hits him when you say: “my dream...”

you press your lips into a thin line, swallowing thickly as a stray tear rolls down your cheek and seeping into your pillow. beomgyu frowns, his features twisting to mirror the ache in his heart as he hears your torn voice. “this one’s gonna hurt in the morning, isn’t it?”

he tries to comfort you, but quite frankly, he doesn’t know what to do.

“w-what if this isn’t a dream?” his hand reaches to overlap yours on his face, and it makes you chuckle, but he doesn’t sense any happiness in your tone. it’s just... it’s miserable, depressing, lifeless.

“i’m going crazy,” you sigh, hand slipping from his grasp and onto the bed, eyelids closing as your voice trails off, “gyu’s going to have a long-ass voice note before he sleeps tomorrow...”

beomgyu watches as you succumb back to sleep, shaking his head at the sight because he’s conflicted. in some way, it makes him happy because that’s... that’s the sight of progress right there. it hasn’t been easy to completely be vulnerable to someone, but through the days and weeks apart, beomgyu’s seeing the change through each voice note that reveals your worries and late night messages of i miss you, today feels harder than the other days... i just want to hold you.

soon, baby. i’ll be back soon, and i’m all yours then but...

but what?

i’m still all yours now, though.

gross.

it’s you staying true to promising him you’ll do your best to let him know when the days are hard, when you need extra reassurance, when you miss him a bit too much; and it’s proof right here that you’re trying, even when it’s emotionally taxing.

but the other part of him–fuck–he just wants you to believe that he’s home.

he takes a moment to think and... he knows that maybe now’s not the right time to tell you if you won’t believe him. so what he does is he heads back out to rummage through his bag to change into more comfortable attire to sleep in; a simple black shirt and shorts before he makes his way back into your bedroom. you’re still soundly asleep and beomgyu tries not to wake you (he’s not really trying, he’ll be more than glad if you woke up...) as he joins you in bed.

you shift a little, turning around to face him and he’s able to rest easy, looking at you as you took in short breaths of air and you slept. it may not have been the way he wanted to surprise you, but he’ll be honest, he was dead tired too. perhaps tomorrow will work out better. for now, he’ll take all he can as long as he’s by your side and he’s able to rest easy knowing tomorrow when you’re by his side, he knows it’s not a dream.

morning. the sunlight kisses your eyes as you peel them open with a soft grunt. it’s a weekend, thank fuck for that because you’re about to pour out your emotions to a poorly recorded voice note as your heart sinks to your gut. your arm reaches out to your table, anticipating for where your phone is but you–what–what the hell–who the hell–your eyes snap open and panic alarms you as you sit up and unknowingly–”g-gyu... no, am i still asleep?”

you give yourself a couple of pats to the face, rubbing your eyes, but each time you blink to your side, it’s... it’s not going away.

beomgyu’s here. he’s laying next to you in bed, frown on his face as he wakes up with a grumble–five more minutes... he whines, curling towards your body, arms snaking around your waist to lure you back to bed as he buries his face against the side of your thigh.

you gulp and feel your hands shaking, your body slowly spiralling into madness at the thought of him being here; unannounced, yet, fitting so perfectly whenever he’s around. you feel the emotions coming all at once, especially after that little hiccup last night at the thought of dreaming of him and now he’s actually here. it’s all hard to process that you’re not making any coherent noises because soon, your feelings get bigger and bigger, the tears start to sting your eyes and–beomgyu peeks his eyes open, about to reign his excitement all over you, only to sit up hurriedly despite sleep still heavy in his system.

he shakes his head, eyes widening in fear, “h-hey, hey hey,” he murmurs softly, hands settling on your shoulders and pulling you close to him. he makes you situate your face in the spot between his neck and shoulder, one of your legs scooting over between his legs so he can hug you closer and his arms circle around you.

almost immediately he feels at home; this is where his home is, with you, beside you, having you in his arms. but the sounds of you crying makes his heart ache because he knows the pain all too well. he knows of the nights of wanting to hold him but he’s so far away. he understands the feeling of looking at your picture and going to sleep, hoping he’ll see you in his dreams because that’s where you’re the closest when you’re thousands of miles away. he tastes the tears he cries in the shower when the longing is too hurtful and he doesn’t want to tell anyone else but you–so he resorts to masking it from others.

so seeing you like this, hearing you like this, it’s a relief being able to cry in each other’s arms but it still pains him every time you cry.

he gives you all the time you need... after all, he’s the one who came uninvited –even though he knows he’s welcomed all the time–but it’s not everyday you wake up to having your significant other return from a long tour and the next morning when you wake up they’re in bed with you. your cries slowly fade as you let go of all your pent up emotions and your hands can finally start searching for him that he decides it’s a good time now to start talking.

“is my baby done crying so i can get a good look at that pretty face?” he coos into your ears, making you huff as you nudge him by the chest so he can lean back to look at you.

he already has this shit-eating-grin on his face, even though he looks like he’s shed a couple of tears but you’re clearly on the worse end here. as you rub your nose with the back of your hand, beomgyu reaches up with his free hand, the other holding you around the waist so he can cup your cheek, brushing the tears away with his thumb.

“augh, look at you, still so cute and gorgeous.”

you still can’t speak, the shock numbing you to the point that even looking at him in the eyes is about to make you cry again. he shifts his position so that he’s straddling you, sitting on your stretched out legs on the bed and he cups your face in his hands, making you look up to him. the light that illuminates his silhouette makes you wary, your hands resisting to hold him because what if, what if he’s not really here?

he senses your hesitance and pouts, lightly squishing your cheeks, “you’re hurting my feelings here. not even gonna hold me? after so long?”

he loosens his hold on you and leans closer, so that you can reach up to touch his face. after a couple of seconds, and him nuzzling against your palm, you reach up with your other hand and hold his face. it’s a long pausing moment, looking at him like this, holding him like this. your heart slowly allows the pain to subside, sinking in reality as this... this is real.

beomgyu’s here.

he’s home.

he yelps when you lunge forward, and he has to brace himself to catch you before the both of you topple over and off the bed. he starts to laugh happily, even when you’re crying in his neck–a different reason this time–and it all welcomes him home. the quiet sighs, the deep intakes of air you force into your lungs, the grabbing; the desperation to feel him, more of him, reaching wherever you can as he holds you up in his arms. he longs for it, his heart, feels full at the feeling of you appreciating his presence so much, he tries not to cry, not now, at least. he’ll know he’ll crack later, but he’ll resist now to be that pillar for you.

he shifts around so that he’s able to lay down on the bed with you still clinging onto him, laying on top as you take all the time you need to recuperate with the fact he’s actually here. he strokes the back of your head, down to your lower back, and all over again in a calming gesture. the heavy breathing ebbs away, and soon, the calmness takes over; happiness radiating when you move yourself from chest and sit up on his lap.

he sits up as well, and since you’re straddling him, it’s easy to come face-to-face with close to no room between your bodies. the change of position surprises you, but he watches as how adoration and infatuation fills your eyes at each waking moment that it’s not a dream to you. your hands hold his face again, and he’s able to smile up to you this time.

there’s so much you want to say, but you know you won’t be able to coherently form it now. with the way beomgyu’s looking up to you, blinking in a daze, you know he somehow can read your mind.

you feel smaller... your face, slimmer than in the photos, videos, fan cameras... you look tired, but happy. tired happy. you’re here, that’s the most important. you’re here, oh god, you’re actually here.

you say so much without saying anything at all, and it tugs on his heartstrings the longer he looks at you, as if he’s trying to memorise this very image. the light that outlines your silhouette almost scares him that this could’ve been a dream for him too. but as you kiss his forehead and lean your forehead against his, it’s a reminder that it isn’t.

“didn’t hurt in the morning, did it?” beomgyu says, raising a brow at you as his hands squeeze your waist.

he watches as confusion morphs your features, a small pout forming.

“how’d... how did you know that?”

it seems like you recollect your dream, especially when you sound so skeptical that he’s able to reference something that... that was... wait. wait a fucking–

“i’m hurt, you know? you said you’d hug me, kiss me senseless, maybe even let me fill you up when i’m back but when i am, all you do is go back to sleep.” he feigns being hurt, but he can’t help himself to laugh when you don’t react in the way he thought you would. your eyes widen so much, it doesn’t look like you’ve been crying for the past thirty minutes.

“t-that was real?!” your jaw drops, body frozen, “you were already home?!”

he pouts, and nods.

“but you just went back to sleep. such a meanie.”

beomgyu can only watch, living in the moment and he’s always, always going to remember this for the rest of his life. the surprise on your face, the shock coming in a second wave of disbelief... but all in the best ways possible. your mouth tries to formulate words, your mind seems to disconnect from your entire being–you have indeed, been bamboozled.

he gives you a moment, only to notice that he probably lost you. he’s made you lost your train of thought. the disconnect was very much visible.

“you need more time to process things, baby?” he grins up to you, clearly enjoying every second of this, but when you still don’t know what to say.

he tests the waters by shifting a little, and when he sees that you’re responsive, he carefully tries to lay you down beneath him. as his elbows rest between your head as he holds himself up, him situating between your legs, you gape at him when there are telltales of what’s about to escalate. your hands reach up to hold onto his shoulders, then going through his hair.

innocently, at first, because it’s been so long, but the switch in beomgyu’s eyes as your fingers go through the strands, the way your eyes look up to him in admiration, then as you try to scan his features, he’s fixated on your eyes, nose, cheeks... lips. the second his eyes trail from your lips back to your eyes, you know it’s game over when he leans down to kiss you.

thank goodness it was a weekend... because it was going to be a very long weekend now that beomgyu was back.

((”how could you leave me like that?” beomgyu huffs, standing by the door of your kitchen as you put the pot to boil water. he watches as you turn around, clad in just one of his shirts over your body and a pair of shorts on, hair still a mess but god, this is the sight beomgyu wishes to see all the time. he stands there with his arms crossed over his bare chest, a pair of boxers lining his hips, small frown on his lips.

you chuckle and spread your arms out, already cooing at him to enter your embrace he very much willingly runs towards.

“i got hungry, you’re probably hungry, too.” your arm circles around his shoulders, the other ruffling his hair, “just wanted to make some ramen for us.”

he sighs into your shoulder, about to comment on how lucky he is but then his mind overtakes to something else when he–”i probably didn’t wear you out enough since you’re able to come here by yourself.”

he feels you stiffening in his hold and you try to resist when he pulls back. with not much resistance, he manages to lean back with a smug look on his face, especially when you don’t respond.

“i wonder...”

“w-what?”

“you don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, right?”

“choi beomgyu, i’m warning you. we’re meeting the boys in a couple of days!”

he snickers, pulling you close to him by the waist when you try to lean away, “yeah, in a couple of days... you should be able to walk by then.”

“...”

“...no objections?”

“can we at least eat something first? i’m starving...”

when you blink up to him with a small pout, he relents with a sigh, “augh, fine. you’re lucky you’re cute.” he leans in, whispering into your ears, “but after this meal, though, i’m having second rounds of you.”))

#kflixnet #txt scenarios #txt x you #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu #beomgyu

153 notes · View notes