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deadsnothere · 1 year

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Hi!! Could I request an Anthony Lockwood x reader fic where it is dark in the evening and the reader and lockwood are cuddling on the couch and its pouring raining and just like enjoying each others presence. Like stealing kisses and just whispering sweet nothings to each other. I would love that!!!! Please take your time!! Thank you so much!!!!

"One love, One lifetime."

Synopsis - Lockwood & Co finally get a rainy day off! but what happens when a blanket gets stolen from its rightful owner?

Request - YES!!

Word Count - 1.8k

Speak Ali! - I'm not dead, I have a theater competition soon so i probably won't be posting may anymore this week other than me ranting. but you can still definitely request shit!!!

Masterlist

We’d finally had a real day off! Whenever Anthony says we’ll have a day off I'm not sure if I can believe him. I mean we’ll have a few hours off at most but then another case comes in urgently and we’ll deal with that. So we almost never have a real day off.

Until today.

It was 8 o'clock on the dot. I finished the dishes after dinner, since I was the one to cook tonight. Wiping down the water from the counter and my hands. I've spent all day doing nothing but reading. It's amazing. I have this adventurous sort of romance book i'm reading right now, I have only 50 pages left of the 430. I got to the part where the main character finds her long lost girlfriend in this big haunted library where she's been under a sleep spell for years. I'm so excited to see how their reunion plays out!

I folded the kitchen towel up and threw it in the small hamper George put out for the kitchen wash. Passing the library, I opened the front door looking out on the rain and “gloom” outside. Lucy was ‘stuck’ at Norries in all the rain, while George was upstairs in his room. Anthony was doing the same, I’d gone up and visited them both a few times, George to make sure he wasn't stressing over our case tomorrow, and Anthony just to say “Hi”. I closed the door and backtracked to the library to finish my book.

I sat down on the chair in front of the desk, reaching back to pull the blanket I had on me earlier back to its rightful spot on my shoulders. But it wasn't there- Who moved my blanket?- no one else had been downstairs!- I stood up looking around the room, almost jumping when I noticed Mr. Anthony Lockwood himself sleeping on the long side chair. He looked kinda uncomfortable, one leg was on top of his knee, while his head was tilted back. My blanket is laying on top of him. I sighed, rolling my eyes lovingly, he is cute. I can't deny it.

“Baby, you have my blanket-” I poked him softly, but he just whispered incoherently back at me. Scrunching his face up and moving away. Oh my god, he is so fucking cute. I kissed his cheek softly, when he didn't move then I went to drastic measures. Attacking his face with kisses, leaving them all over his forehead, nose, lips, cheeks, temples. He woke up very quickly, laughing when I continued to kiss him. “A-Alias what are you doing!” I pulled back from my attack to talk to him. “You have my blanket.” Smiling at him slyly. “Is that really why you woke me up?” He groaned, pulling me into a kiss. I raised an eyebrow back, giggling when he pushed me into his lap. “Are you really that mad about me waking you up how I did?” He thought about it for a second, just shrugging.

I stood up once again to go back to my book but he didn't let go of my hand. “We could always share your blanket.” Anthony made a fair point, with his real genuine smile. Smiling back at him, I softly pulled my hand away. I think his body physically deflated when we let go of contact. but he was quick to reflate when I picked up my book striding back to him. “If you want you can lay your head in my lap while I read- Or I can lay on you.” He was quick to lean against the side of the chair, letting his legs finally stretch out on top of the soft fabric, patting his lap for me to lay down as well. “Well eager, are we?” Giggling, I finally laid down on top of him, my waist in between his legs and arms holding up my book.

We’d stayed like this for a while, Anthony was reading along with me but half way through a paragraph he’d fallen asleep. He always looked so peaceful when sleeping. No matter how stressed he was when he fell asleep there was nothing to worry about, not a care to be shown on his face. He said he used to have bad nightmares, but with me they were always “better” whatever that meant. I guess it either means I make his dreams better or I've stopped the nightmares.

He’s definitely helped me to...After the night of the Fairfax incident he came to my room to sleep, I planned to go to him but he’d beat me to it. Nothing was better than feeling his arms wrap around me (tighter than normal) He confessed the next morning that he was scared, about what happened with Fairfax threatening me, and I ended up giving them more information about my past and what Fairfax had to do with it.

Once I'd finished the book I set it down on the floor turning around to put my face into Anthony's chest. Humming the tune of “All i ask of you” from Phantom of the opera, A Musical I performed in, for a case and for fun. “My words will warm and calm you.” I placed a hand on his cheek rubbing softly, while singing to him and to me. “Let me be your freedom.” I started to hum again when he stirred abit. mumbling my name softly, and going right back to his deep sleep. “Let daylight dry your tears.” When I placed a kiss on his jaw it wasn't meant to wake him this time, more just a soft reminder I was still with him. “I'm here, with you, beside you.” I kissed his jaw again in a different place. “To guard you, and to guide you.”

I still remember how jealous he was when I was first put in the role of Christine daae. He was there every practice and every show being careful to watch how genuinely my reactions were. He's always been protective of me. But he shows it differently, protective in a silent way.

“Say you love me every waking moment.” I closed my eyes humming the song. “Say you need me with you now and always.” I felt a hand slowly lift my head up, pulling me into a kiss. It was passionate and caring, all the love in the world was behind it. “I need you with me, you're my shelter, my light.”

“One love, one lifetime.”

“I could make out with you right now, that was so romantic..” Anthony laughed at my lack of filter rubbing my cheeks with his hands pulling me into a kiss but pulling away before I could keep my words to my mouth. “Your voice is absolutely breathtaking darling.” “You're an idiot.” He smiled at me trying to keep his romantic words going. “You know you’re only saying that because you can't take a compliment.” I gasped, almost offended. (if it weren't so true). “I can take a compliment! I took the compliment show night!” Anthony looked a little too proud of himself. We both knew why he was so touchy that night, him watching me “flow, flawlessly” with another man made his blood boil but instead of getting mad at me for something I couldn't control. He just simply showed the man who’s I was. whether that meant hickeys in more than obvious places, or getting caught kissing in my dressing room. The poor actor always knew who’s I was, and Anthony was always beaming at that fact.

“Show night was different.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “What because you were jealous I danced in another man's arms so you just had to show me off.” He scoffed next, looking away from me with an obvious hint of “I can't protect myself” or I like to think it was that anyway. “I did not show you off. You were on the news and they asked me, how I thought of your performance. When they asked how I was close to you I just don't think they were expecting me to say boyfriend and kiss you…on live tv.” I nodded sarcastically. “My parents called me later that night asking why my shade of burgundy lipstick was being snogged off onto yours on live tv.” He laughed knowing exactly where this was going. “You're lucky they like bold people! you would be dead if it weren't for the fact.”

He swelled with pride. My parents loved him, If it weren't for quill i'm sure they would've loved him even more. “That even got me a few points with your brother.” And in Anthony's position as his “enemy” that's hard. “You don't need points with my brother, idiot.” He knew that better than anyone, if I knew my brother didn't like him for a good reason I wouldn't have joined his company or started dating him. “Alias, Darling, I know. I just feel like maybe earning his respect is still in line here, you are his little sister so I can understand why he would be protective.” He was so sweet when he wasn't wishing my brother dead after saving our asses on a case. “Well baby, I know he definitely respects you after the locket case.”

“The locket case.” During the locket case we were miss informed again. A woman showed up at our door at three am, said she was struggling with a ghost problem. As it was 3 am, George had no time to research, so we all got dressed and went to work on the case. It ended up with me in the hospital, with Anthony in the bed on the other side of the room. He was always an idiot, jumping in front of us and never caring for himself first.

“Those nurses hated us.” The nurses always got mad at us because we were never in our own beds. But we were too nervous to let the other go. Apparently my brother showed up while I was passed out. He said

“Tony sat there bleeding out refusing to room with anyone but you. I thought he was actually going to die on his statement. He was saying all the romantic shit about ‘I can't leave them alone’ and ‘I have to know their ok’. It was disgustingly sweet.”

Quill didn't say it but he respected Anthony for that, I was glad to know they could sort of get along when needed.

Wow I get lost in my thoughts easily, when being pulled out of my head, Anthony had already fallen back to sleep. His heart beat going back to a slow pace, his hands were intertwined at the back of my neck, and his head seemed to be in a much more comfortable position. He's so peaceful. This reminds me of a scene in my book but instead of me finding him in a sleep curse in a giant haunted library, he dragged me down with him.

I kissed his cheek one more time before finally laying my head down to take a nap too. George is going to be pissed in the morning when he finds us, especially since my book is on the floor.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x reader #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #george karim #lockwood and co dr #speak ali!!#x original character #x oc #it's not actually x oc stfu #mentions #quill kipps #alias kipps #x reader #the chronicles of alias forman #reader has a name #anthony lockwood x alias foreman

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hypnotiiize · 1 year

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𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨... 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐞

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: this is based on a literal Vybz Kartel song but it’s named after a Kelis song. and if you’re not caribbean or from nyc and know nothing abt Vybz … just know i put u on 🙏🏽 also this is gonna be the first instance of what i like to call After!Jude u gon get me soon enough 🤞🏽 + i wrote jude like a man FR so buckle in ❤️

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: cheating, items thrown, self h*rm ideation, smoking cigs around babies — it was a diff time ya just vibe w me but also DONT smoke around babies

Long ago, she’d grown accustomed to the wooden tobacco scent of cigarettes and the way that they seeped into the necks of her most durable shirts. In her earliest memories, she would be sat between her grandmother’s legs and the older woman would be braiding her hair for school. Her grandmother, a rather young woman considering her title, balanced a lanky cigarette between her lips as she added barrettes to the ends of her hair before moving on to the next braid. Now, the eye-stinging, lung-burning, herby smell of cigarette smoke reminded her of easier times– of the hairs at the nape of her neck being roughly brushed up into a plait, of her face being slathered in Vaseline, of her grandmother’s roughened voice chastising her grandchildren for running in her house.

She smoked her very first cigarette at the age of sixteen. As she placed the cigarette between her lips, she thought of the woman she had lost four years prior whose heavy hands would spoon-feed her gently. Her grandmother. She thought of the woman’s comforting words and sloppy kisses and head pats and Sunday breakfasts for her and all of her cousins. As she’d puffed the cigarette for the very first time, she easily recalled braids and the smell of the hair grease and that one Godforsaken red brush with the roughest bristles she’d ever felt in her life. As she’d exhaled, she’d been slapped with the clearest image of her grandmother she’d seen since the woman was alive. In truth, the woman had begun to slip her mind as the clock ticked by, though as she smoked her very first cigarette she swore she’d felt the warmth of the woman’s aged hands on her back, rubbing soothingly.

At eighteen, she kicked the habit. It was bad for aging and her fear of lung problems stemmed from the matriarch she’d loved so much. She cried for days at the absence of her grandmother’s presence, finding her lost in the haze of the sweet-smelling smoke. Still, she threw out her pack of Newports and grew used to the dull state of living without her first best friend.

The next time she would see her grandmother was when she was twenty, as the cigarette between her lips lit fiery red at its tip and the stingingly familiar scent– something akin to perfume to her– wafted around her head. Where others smelled cigarette smoke, instead she smelled comfort. She smelled hair grease and pancakes and her grandmother’s home, and when she pressed her eyes shut, she could even imagine herself waking up in the mornings in her grandmother’s arms– she could see the dust particles swaying around her, she could even feel the grainy fabric of her grandmother’s orange curtains between her two fingers.

When her eyes opened after two long minutes of her childhood, her boyfriend of three years stood in the doorway with furrowed brows and a bothered look in his deep brown eyes. She had been crying long before then.

“You’re smoking again?” was the first thing Jude said. He shook his head, his lips downturned as if he’d tasted something disgusting. He had been the one that pushed for her to leave cigarettes alone. As an athlete, he had to be well averse to the effects of drugs on the human body– plus, he’d hated feeling as if he was kissing a truck driver.

She did not answer him. The truth was evident. She just closed two fingers around the Newport and flicked her thumb against the butt of it, watching wistfully as its ashes fell out of the window to the grass below. For a moment, she wished she could fall in the same way: no longer feeling the painful burn in her chest. Silent. Graceful. And then, stable.

“Hello?” Jude spoke once more, sounding offended by her brush-off. “You don’t hear me or something?”

She placed the cigarette between her lips and squinted her eyes at the passing cars as she inhaled.

“Hello,” Jude said again, lower this time as he wrapped his hand around her wrist and turned her to him. When she tugged her arm from him, his eyebrows rose to his hairline. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, nose scrunched at the cloud of smoke she expelled from her lips. “Did I do something wrong? Why aren’t you speaking?”

There was a split second– a split, split second– where she pondered laughing in his face, finding irony in the question she, too, had been asking herself since her eyes had cracked open.

Did I do something wrong?

When had she stopped being enough? When had Jude stopped fawning over the sway of her hips? When had he grown tired of the sweetness of her skin on his tongue? When had he decided that her love was expendable?

Why hadn’t he told her?

Having had the whole day to muse, their house still and void of the feelings that had once lived there with the two, she’d decided that he had stopped loving her wildly sometime a year ago. She’d sipped wine and recalled the time she had attempted to type his password into his phone and found herself locked out. She had only wanted to go to his pictures and upon her eyebrows knitting together in the middle of her forehead, Jude wrapped his arms around her and skillfully distracted her with kisses to her chest. The next time she’d gone to open his phone his password had been changed back, and she questioned, briefly, if it had even happened. She’d known it had.

That second time a year ago, when she’d grabbed his phone, she’d found a picture of herself set as his lock screen. It was something he’d snapped on one of their first dates, back when he would buy her bouquets of flowers and invite her with him everywhere he went, unwilling to part from her. She recalled wanting to be flattered at the gesture, wanting to see the change of photos as a declaration of his love. She knew it wasn’t. Eventually, when her uneasiness had become obvious to Jude, he’d even made a show of allowing her face to unlock his phone, “for emergency purposes,” he’d said, though she knew he meant to shut her up. She felt shame, now, at the fact that that had worked, then.

Even if her original estimation had been off, she'd thought that the constant pinging of his cell phone that began four weeks ago was the definite answer to her question. By then, Jude no longer smiled at her quirks the way he once did– instead, there was only the irked expression on his face as she tripped or stumbled over her words. When he kissed her, it was offhandedly, like one would an aunt they saw at every family get-together. He would be too busy to go to restaurants with her, though somehow free enough to party with his teammates and friends every night.

Such had been the case the night before when Jude pressed a chaste kiss to the right of her lips and told her he would be going out with his friends. He had stopped asking her if she wanted to accompany him long before then; she had even been glad for it, she did not think she could sit through another one of his eye rolls when she told him that she couldn’t, as she had important schoolwork to finish. In more recent times, when she had been on top of her coursework, she had wanted to party with him but could not bring herself to beg for the attention of the man she lived with.

Thus, each time, she would be left to observe remnants of his night on the stories of his friends. There were four in total, not including Jude. Jamal, who Jude had played football with since they were children. Whitney, who Jude had gone to school with. Daniel, who Whitney had grown up with. And Amelia, who had started off as a friend that Jude allowed her to invite in the beginning so that she would not feel uncomfortable. Now, they were their own thing– Daniel, Whitney, Jamal, Jude, and Amelia were all one big, partying friend group who truly were not compatible at all.

And so, despite the bitter prickle somewhere in her chest from being left at home, she could not help but be thankful that she would not have to fake laugh with people she was not truly comfortable with. Instead, she watched their stories: Daniel would post himself and Jude with drinks in their hands. Whitney would post pictures of all of them standing shoulder to shoulder, grinning at the camera. Jamal would not post at all. Amelia, the girl she’d grown up with, would post a video of herself and Whitney singing to the blaring music.

Last night, just before he left, Jude’s cell phone vibrated and lit up on the nightstand. She had been standing over a foot away reaching for the pajama shirt she’d laid out on the quilt of their bed. She instinctively glanced at his phone when she straightened, mouth falling open as it promptly unlocked itself upon registering her face. She’d read the message there before she could stop herself, her heart dropping to her stomach and heating up the acid there tenfold.

She’d waited for the slam of the front door before FaceTiming the only one in Jude’s friend group that she’d found herself fond of after all those years.

Jamal picked up on the first ring.

“You going out tonight?” she’d asked quickly, hoping for him to say yes despite the fact that he was in his pajamas.

Jamal had snorted. “No. Why?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just– I just wanted to know if you could keep an eye on something for me,” she’d struggled to say, still shaken by the conclusion she’d leaped to upon seeing the text on Jude’s lock screen.

“Keep an eye on something for you?” Jamal had repeated after her confusedly. “Are you okay?” When she didn’t answer after a long minute of calculating her next step, he’d said warningly, “Hey, I’m watching American Horror Story and I’m kind of spooked right now, so please don’t be so cryptic.”

Upon her recollection of the events, Jamal had assured her that she was caught up in her own anxieties. Jude, for everything he was, was not as low down as she suspected him to be– and if he was, Jamal would set him straight immediately. Still, as the lines in her forehead deepened, Jamal promised he would remain attentive to every interaction he would witness thereafter. When he hung up after five long minutes of prying about her mental state, she was left with the deafening silence of their bedroom and the frigid vacancy of the left side of their bed.

Now, she watched Jude’s broad shoulders rise and fall with his every breath and wondered if he had ever felt as if someone were pressing talons into his lungs, piercing the organ and suffocating him from the inside out– this, of course, being exactly what she had been feeling since she’d woken up gripping the last remnant of him, his pillow, to her body.

“Jude,” she began slowly, her voice raspy from all the screaming she’d done hours ago, having had no clue when he would find his way home. His eyebrows raised, a sign of his attention. She tilted her head and attempted to keep her voice leveled, eyes filled with sorrow as she asked the question she had long since known the answer to.

“You fucked her?”

Jude looked as if he’d had whiplash. His eyes were wide, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Huh?”

“You fucked her, Jude?” she asked again, voice filled to the brim with desperation.

“No,” he said quickly, and his answer twisted the knife his absence had lodged into her abdomen long ago.

“How do you know who I’m talking about, then?” she whispered these words, and Jude shook his head. She shook hers, too. “If you don’t know who I’m talking about, why are you saying ‘no,’ already?” Her voice was gentle.

Jude swallowed once more. “No, I’m just saying, like– no, I didn’t sleep with anyone. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone ever, baby, you know that. I meant, like, no-no not no-no,” he rushed, his words as disorganized as the room they stood in.

“They saw you, Jude,” she breathed.

“Who?” he asked.

“Kiara and Destiny, Jude,” she told him of her best friends, who had gone out of their way to go to the same club as him the night before.

At this, Jude’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, having never found himself fully in her best friends’ good graces. He went to grab her hand. His fingers merely managed to swipe against hers before she snatched them away. “Baby,” he said at that, frowning deeply, “They’re lying. You know they don’t like me.”

So, Jude hadn’t seen it: the headlines and pictures and tweets. She could tell from the peaceful look in his eyes despite the prominent dark circles there from the sleep he had apparently gone without. As she stared at the man she’d grown up with, the man she’d sworn would see her through both sickness and health, she could only feel the incessant need to tighten her hands around her neck and pierce the skin there, longing for the fruitfulness of physical pain rather than the turmoil of her thoughts. She didn’t. Instead, she spoke past the burn in her throat.

“They’re not lying,” was all she could say, incapable of bringing up the articles that had hurt her to scour through.

“Yeah? They’re not lying? Then tell them to come here and say that in front of me, since you swear they’re not lying,” he called her bluff. It was only then, as she watched him adamantly refuse the facts she’d presented to him, that she realized how many other times he must have lied to her mid-argument. Only this time, she’d had enough proof to make her feel comfortable in simply blinking at him as he denied everything, not having to concern herself with whether or not she believed him.

In his haste to prove himself, he went on, saying, “Go ahead. Call ‘em, tell them to come,” knowing she wouldn’t. And in the past this may have worked– in the past, she may have felt silly for even suggesting such a thing.

In the present, she had one last suitcase to pack.

“You fucked her, Jude,” she exhaled simply, tiredly. She took one last, long drag from her cigarette before tapping it out on the windowsill and maneuvering around the man before her. Her suitcase lay sprawled open on the bed that would soon become solely his, the sheets too tainted for her to even think of bringing with her despite her love for them.

“What are you doing?” Jude asked as she opened the closet and removed her sweaters from the white hangers there. “What are you doing?” he asked once more as she began to fold them and place them in her suitcase. When she laid a sweatshirt down, Jude’s large hand grabbed it and flung it onto her pillow. “Baby, I didn’t fuck her,” he insisted fervently.

“How do you know who I’m talking about, Jude? If you didn’t fuck anyone,” she lilted, her eyes low as she folded another sweatshirt. When she placed that one in the suitcase, Jude threw that one out, too.

“I mean, I didn’t fuck anyone, baby!” he revised.

She folded her third sweatshirt. “You fucked her.”

He threw out the third sweatshirt. “Who? Who did I fuck, then?! Since you swear you know so much!” he shouted, a crease between his eyebrows as he pressed them together.

“Amelia.”

There was a beat in which no one spoke, and she wished, for a moment, that he had denied that name as aggressively as he’d been doing everything else just a minute before. Instead, when she glanced at him, she only found him with his lips sucked into his mouth as his eyes shut. His right hand had even constricted into a fist around her favorite hoodie. When he caught himself, he flung it at his own pillow.

“I didn’t fuck her,” he swore, quieter this time.

“You fucked her, Jude.”

“Oh my fucking God,” he hissed and then rolled his neck. The next he spoke, he was bellowing with his hands pressed together, “I didn’t! Fuck her!”

“Jude! You fucked her!” she spat just as suddenly as he, though ten times louder for the sake of it, finding that her chest had grown hot from his audacity to raise his voice at her.

“I said I didn’t fuck her! Why the fuck won’t you just listen to m– stop putting shit in this stupid suitcase!” He lifted the suitcase easily and tossed it onto the floor, having found himself fed up with the umpteenth sweater she’d neatly folded despite the bubbling tensions.

“Destiny and Kiara saw you, Jude. They saw you,” she sighed, opting to continue to fold the rest of her belongings and lay them on the pristine white quilt the two had once slept on.

“Yeah, well, your friends talk too fucking much, anyway,” was his curt reply. He caught himself when her right eye twitched and her head began to slowly raise to squint at him. He hastily added, “And they’re lying, too.”

She did not dignify him with a response. There was only the quiet sigh that she pressed from her nostrils and the rustling of the clothes in her hands.

Jude’s eyes rolled as she placed another pleated sweater on their comforter. He grabbed that one quickly, too, throwing it onto the headboard before bounding the bed toward her. He stood four inches from her, yet she did not bat an eye– her gaze remained downcast, focused on the fabrics she could feel between her fingers. Jude reached for her hand. “Baby,” he drawled, “I never had sex with Amelia, baby. I would never do that to you. Baby? You hear me?” His words fell on deaf ears.

She shifted away from him and placed her sweatshirt on their bed.

This time, Jude’s hand caught hers. He began to toy with her fingers the way he used to. His voice was soft, tentative as if the revelation had hurt him in the same way it had hurt her. “Call Jamal,” he proposed earnestly. “He was there with us last night, he can tell you.”

She felt as if she were suffocating in the room they’d decorated together all those months ago, as now, the man she loved looked her directly in her eyes and fabricated a story. She wondered, momentarily, why her boyfriend was so confident in his ability to deceive her. How many times had he done it before? How many times had she been made the fool? How long had he slipped lies into an everyday conversation for her to consume, content with poisoning her from the inside out?

She blinked, pulling her hand from his. “Oh. Jamal was with you last night?” she asked deliberately.

Jude nodded. “Yes. We all went out, baby. You know that.”

“That’s so funny,” she hummed, eyeing the way her hands began to tremble. She could hear her voice quivering. She could feel her chest shaking. She faced Jude, then, struggling to square her shoulders before the man who towered over her. “That’s so funny,” she repeated, louder this time. She let her words wash over him for three seconds before continuing. “‘Cause Jamal was actually the one that called me and told me that Amelia called him and told him that you and her had fucked last night! So.”

Jude sucked his lips into his mouth at this.

She chuckled at the turn of events. “Not to mention, when I FaceTimed Jamal last night he was in his pajamas getting ready for bed.” At Jude’s measured silence, she shook her head, a smile splitting on her face. “Look at you, just standing there looking stupid. Thank God for iPhones. You would’ve had me looking real dumb,” she spit this before snatching more hangers from the closet. She stepped around Jude, hurling her clothes into her opened suitcase, hangers be damned.

Jude swiveled in his spot, and when he spoke, his voice was high-pitched. “Baby! I wouldn’t lie to you! I’m not lying to you!” he lied.

She scoffed, finding that her fingers were itching for a cigarette to sit between them, to soothe the nerves he’d shot up before he even stepped foot in what was once their home. After a while, she could only sigh.

“I’m leaving, Jude,” she stated, her conclusion as simple as her words. “You can have this whole house to yourself and Amelia, but I gotta go.”

“Baby,” he began, tone dipped in syrup as he flocked to her side. He placed his hand on her cheek and lifted her face. Her eyes met his, void of their usual warmth. “Hey, listen. I love you, okay? Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.”

“Get off of me.” She lifted her chin from his palm.

“Baby, she’s lying,” he declared, his fingers gripping at his hair. “I don’t know why she told Jamal that! She’s fucking lying, baby, you can’t believe her!”

She squinted at him severely, slowly asking, “Why would she lie about that, Jude?”

“I don’t know! Maybe she just likes to lie!” he suggested, an octave away from whining.

Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palms and for a split second, she contemplated arson. She harkened back to the conversations she would hear her cousins having as they spoke of their boyfriends, thinking of how abysmal their excuses were when they would get caught in lies. She remembered just how content she had felt, confident of both Jude and the amount of respect Jude had for her– if he would ever lie, he would care enough to make the lie excellent and not be so bad at thinking on his toes for the sake of their relationship. Color her shocked at his less-than-logical, stuttered responses. He had not even thought of her and their courtship enough to lie effectively, and therefore, she did not have any more words for him.

She continued to pack.

Jude placed his head in his hands and groaned loudly, scrubbing a palm down his face. “I hate that girl, bro,” he snarled, shaking his head into his wrists. He straightened and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, inhaling for four long seconds and exhaling for just as long. When he gathered himself, he found her at the head of their bed, tossing the sweatshirts he’d strewn there into her opened luggage. He gulped at the dull look in her pretty eyes.

“Baby,” he started gently, “She’s lying. I’m telling you, she’s lying. She’s lying.”

She stood on her toes and flicked her wrist as she tossed her sweater, thinking of yelling, “Kobe!” in the midst of her attempt to drown out Jude’s words.

“She’s lying. I can prove to you she’s lying. I can prove it,” Jude persisted. He patted his hands against his thighs before pulling out his car keys. He gripped them tight in his palm as he said, “Okay, baby. You stay here, I’m gonna go see her again to sort all this out–”

“Again?”

Jude choked on air. “Huh?”

“Again? You said, ‘again’?” she echoed, her eyebrows raised as she gawked at his slip-up.

His jaw slackened. “Huh?”

“You said you’re gonna go see her ‘again’?” she repeated his words, smiling despite the way her chest had caught fire as she slow-walked to the middle of the room. “When was the first time you saw her, Jude? Since ‘she’s lying.’ Why d’you gotta go see her ‘again’? Hm?”

He blinked dazedly, looking first to his left and then to his right. “Huh?”

“What, you don’t hear me?!” she laughed loudly. “You said you gotta see her ‘again.’ So you saw her already, right?!”

“Huh? What?” was all he could say.

“Yeah, huh,” she mocked, bending at her waist and grabbing the silver zipper on her luggage. She could see Jude standing awkwardly in its reflection, his hands raised slightly in the air as he stumbled to his next response. She rolled her eyes as she closed her bag. She hoisted her suitcase onto its wheels while she stood, rolling past him wordlessly to the front of the house. She opened the closet there, tugging out the suitcases she had placed there hours ago in an effort to gather all of her possessions in one place without Jude’s interference– though she had not known then that he would even be home that early. Had she known, she would have bid the house farewell with some loud music and a slice of cake rather than the piercing screams the four walls had to sit through earlier.

She longed to say goodbye to each nook and cranny that she had seen every day for the past year. She longed to brush her hands against the smooth marble island wistfully, longed to recall the dishes she and Jude had made there– though now, she knows, those memories of the two of them moving around each other easily as they cooked would be forever marred. She longed to rub her fingers along the sofa they’d picked out together, longed to rest her head on its armrest once more before departing. She longed to feel at home in their home.

Jude grabbed her wrist and twisted her to him, finding that the view of her bags by the front door had made his heart palpitate in a nauseating way. “So you’re just gonna leave based on what someone else said?” he spat. “You’re not even giving me a chance to, like, defend myself– you’re just leaving! You’re letting everyone lie to you! So, you don’t care about me? Is that it?” His gaze poured into hers as his voice softened. “You’re just gonna let everyone lie to you and you’re gonna believe them over me?”

She felt as if she was going to be sick. “No one’s lying to me, Jude,” she said, removing her arm from his.

He grabbed her again, his fingers gentle around her flesh in spite of the gravel in his tone.

She could have even pulled away once more if she wanted to. She didn’t.

“So tell me how you know, then,” he rasped, the scent of him overtaking her senses. “Tell me how you know no one’s lying. Tell me why you’re so quick to believe everyone but your boyfriend of three years. Tell me,” demanded Jude.

There was a tug at the back of her throat. She had to raise her gaze to the ceiling to stop the sting in her eyes. Not for the first time, she wished for a cigarette.

“She texted you last night, Jude,” she revealed.

His face fell despite the fact that he had already been frowning, his sharp gaze growing blunt. “You went through my phone?”

“No, I didn’t go through your fucking phone, Jude,” she snapped, yanking her arm from his at this. A small fraction of her found humor in how panicked he looked: his eyes wide, his chest heaving, his rich brown skin slightly paled in pallor. However, the majority of her wanted to bust the windows out of his car, and thus the humor would remain lost on her at that moment. She scoffed. “The stupid shit lit up last night when you were getting ready and I saw her fucking text you.”

He shook his head disbelievingly. “You went through my phone.”

“I didn’t go through your fucking phone!” she said and her labored breath caught in the next moment, a thought occurring to her. “Should I have gone through your phone?!” she asked, peering at him through narrowed eyes, daring him to slip up once more.

“That’s not important,” he dismissed with a casual wave of his hand. Her chest felt as if it were molten lava. “What’d the text say, then? ‘Cause I didn’t see a text, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted, unbeknownst to the fact that she had observed quietly in the corner of their bedroom as his lips had tugged into a smirk at the sight of Amelia’s text.

She thought once more of pressing her nails into her throat, the weight of his lies threatening the strength of her resolve. Her shoulders shuddered as she recalled the words that had appeared below the picture of her on his lock screen. You gonna see me again tomorrow? Or today? When she recited this to Jude, he gulped.

“Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You gotta believe me,” he begged. “I’m lost! Just like you are!”

“Sure you are,” she mumbled weakly, grabbing her collection of coats from the closet beside the front door. She laid them over her arm as Jude latched onto the handle of her suitcase and pulled it a yard away from her.

He placed himself in front of the suitcase, next, barring her from leaving both the house and his life. “I didn’t have sex with her!” he swore desperately.

“Jude!” She was shouting now. “Stop fucking lying to me! Stop lying! You look stupid, stop lying! You fucked her! Just shut up already!”

“But you’re not even letting me defend myself!” he boomed, and she felt as if his voice had shaken the walls. “No matter what I say, you won’t believe me!”

“Because you’re fucking lying!” she screeched, her hands balled into fists.

He groaned, his hands on his head once more as he did a three-sixty. “Oh my fucking God, you keep saying that shit!” He leaned forward, his palms facing the sky as he asked, “Who the fuck is saying I’m fucking lying?! ‘Cause they’re the ones that are lying!”

“Destiny and Kiara, Jude! Destiny and Kiara! My best friends saw you!” Then, just before he could say that her friends had an elaborate ploy to get him out of her life, she soldiered on, “And Jamal told me! Jamal told me, Jude! Amelia told Jamal, and he told me! Not to mention the people on Twitter that are tagging me in shit! So, you’re done, Jude! You’re caught! I’m leaving, move on!”

“You’re not going anywhere because I’m not lying!” he hollered his claim.

“Oh yeah?” she challenged.

He nodded cockily. “Yeah.”

“You’re not lying?”

Again, he nodded. “I’m not lying.”

“Mm,” she hummed, nodding once before she pressed the plushy pad of her index finger to the middle of her lips.

She wondered, briefly, how she would go about her next move. Would she scream, in hopes that her voice would penetrate his skin and cause him the pain she felt? Would she cry, in hopes that her sobs would awaken something within him and he would come to, shaken at the sound of her in pain? Would she throw the nearest object at his temple?

In the end, she merely tilted her head at him at a forty-five-degree angle and asked knowingly, “Then what’s that hickey on your neck, Jude?”

In the distance, a pin dropped.

She had, admittedly, caught the maroon-colored bruise just above his collarbone the moment the cigarette smoke had dissipated from the air between them– just after she’d watched the ashes connect themselves to the dew on the vibrant grass. She had been too caught up in the fact that it had been exactly where Jude’s spot was to speak on it, too caught up in the fact that whoever he had been with– and she knew who he had been with, she had known her before she had become a woman– had known him well enough to know his body. She had imagined Amelia sucking at the skin above his collarbone familiarly in the same way that she had once done, back when the sight of Jude did not make her want to rip each strand of hair from her head one by one.

Jude leaned his ear forward, feigning as if he had not heard. “Huh?”

“Yeah, huh. I said, what’s that hickey on your neck?” she reiterated, surprisingly jovial for such a situation.

Jude’s eyebrows knit in the middle of his forehead. “What hickey on my neck?”

She just smiled. “That hickey on your neck,” she said, pointing to the skin on full display. He had not even had the respect to dab some concealer over it or fix his collar. She chuckled.

Jude turned to the mirror beside the front door, craning his neck to see the stretch of skin she was referring to. Russet eyes widened considerably at the sight of the reddened mark, his fingers pressing against it for two long seconds before he gathered himself.

“Oh, that?” he began, smacking his lips together. “That’s not a hickey!”

“That’s not?” she played along.

He smacked his lips together again. “No.”

She tilted her head further, crossing one hand over the other as she squinted at him judgmentally, questioning just how far he would spin the web of lies he rested within. “What is it, then, Jude?” she asked.

His eyes widened and he shrugged as if the answer were glaringly obvious.

“A mosquito bite!”

There was a pregnant pause as she processed his excuse, her jaw hanging slightly ajar while she nodded slowly, realizing only then just how absolutely dumb the man before her was. She had always overlooked it, citing his lack of logic on something that he did solely to make her laugh. Instead, the truth of Jude was less charming than she had chopped it up to be: where she envisioned a well-calculated, suave footballer instead lived a boy still stuck in his teen years, ditzy in treacherous ways.

Reality had punched her smack dab in her mouth, splitting her lip open upon contact. Now, she could taste the iron there, pooling around her teeth with each of Jude’s lies.

Still, against her better judgment, she chuckled. “Jude…”

“What? It’s a mosquito bite!” he maintained.

“Yeah?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. He nodded. “Mm. So, where were you that a mosquito bit you last night, Jude? Where were you in the winter that you got a mosquito bite? And quickly.”

Jude replied, “Babe, you know the club is by water.”

“Oh, it’s the club’s fault now. Which club?” she quizzed.

“Uh, Lavender Lounge.”

“Hm.” She shook her head, her lips twisted up. She made a show of eyeing the ceiling skeptically, tapping her chin for good measure. “That’s definitely not where Destiny and Kiara saw you, but okay.”

Jude squeezed his eyes shut at that. She simpered, well aware that he had forgotten that piece of information having been too caught up in sustaining everything else he had said.

“No, baby, I meant the Realm,” he corrected eventually.

Her smile grew, dazzling now. “Oh, the Realm. You mean the club that’s right by Amelia’s house? That one? That Realm?”

Jude appeared perturbed. “No, I meant–”

“‘Cause I’m thinking it’s that Realm,” she laughed humorlessly. The next time she spoke, her chuckles had progressed into full-blown giggles, her shoulders shaking despite the salty liquid collecting at her waterline. “‘Cause, y’know, I’m thinking you took your cheating ass to that Realm and met up with Amelia so you guys could fuck. That’s what I’m thinking, but I’m really just spit-balling here.”

“Baby, calm down,” was how he chose to respond.

Her reaction was instantaneous: she flinched, his words delivering a swift deck to her mouth in the same way reality had. Her brain vibrated against her skull at the impact of them. The pool of blood there only developed, dribbling from between her lips and falling onto the necklace he had bought her for their first anniversary.

She could only see red.

“Calm down?” she parroted, speaking through clenched teeth. “Calm. Down?! You cheat on me and you’re gonna tell me to ‘calm down’? Are you out of your fucking mind?!” she exploded, rolling up one of the coats in her arms and beaming it straight at his head. It smacked against his temple before thudding to the ground, though by then she had already thrown the next one. Jude was ducking as she shrieked, “And then you’re gonna cheat with Amelia of all people? Are you fucking crazy?!”

“No, baby, she’s lying!” he said as another puffer pelted him. He never imagined that such a fluffy jacket could cause such a sting.

“Amelia of all fucking people?!” she screamed, seizing her house slipper from her foot before flinging it at him with her dominant arm, too upset to risk the fifty-fifty chance of missing him. It smacked him right against the supposed mosquito bite above his collarbone and he let out a short yelp. “Of all fucking people! Fucking Amelia! You must’ve lost your mind!”

“Wait, wait, wait, okay, okay, okay,” Jude rushed, hands outstretched in front of him in an attempt to block the next item she would hurl. She stood barefoot in their foyer, her second slipper waiting patiently in her palm to be launched. Her eyes widened as she raised the slipper, a threat that he quickly took heed of. He caught his breath quickly, his next words cautious. “Okay. Baby. Listen. I-I think I have a solution, okay?” he said.

“Shut up!” The house shoe thwacked against the left side of his chest.

“Geez! Stop throwing slippers at me!”

“You’d rather a Timberland?!”

“Baby! Please! Just listen to me!” he beseeched, and though she felt as if she would sob from the searing pain his infidelity had forced into their home, she thought of the boy she fell in love with and agreed. Jude thanked her graciously. “I think I have a solution. Okay? Just hear me out, please. Please?” He waited for her shoulders to wilt and her hands to unfurl.

Jude’s lips parted and her heart cracked. She could not lie to herself any longer: she desperately wished that the next words that fell from his plump lips would be ones that she could believe in. She wanted, more than anything, to fall into his arms and break against his chest, to cry into his biceps and apologize profusely for jumping to incorrect conclusions, despite the fact that she had seen the pictures and videos from the club. Despite the fact that she had heard the answers fall from Jamal’s mouth when he frantically called out of her sleep. His actions were set in stone. Her fate would rely on the next thing he said.

“I’ll let you get back at me one good time to get it out of your system and then we can all just forget this happened,” Jude posed.

And with this, she swore, something shattered in her chest. She felt the shards of it succumb to gravity and stab at the insides of her feet, the pain stinging and sore and yet still a reminder that she was still alive– that she was still real, not yet ashes collecting on the grass.

He smiled weakly at her, attempting to gauge her reaction despite the hollow expression in her eyes. “Okay? So that you can’t be angry. Not that I’m saying I cheated or anything,” he threw in swiftly, catching his implied admission. “But since you think I did, I’ll let you cheat, too, so that it’s even! It’s like an eye for an eye, right? Even though I didn’t cheat. So, you cheat back–” (he had not realized he’d said ‘back.’ She was left to note this mentally, too drained to point it out) “–and then just,” he shrugged simply, “Don’t leave.”

“Jude, please get away from me,” was all she could say, unsteady on her feet as if she’d been out drinking the night before instead of him. She almost wished she had. Maybe, then, he would be the one praying for something, anything, to end his suffering– to wake him up and assure him that it was all a bad dream. Maybe he would feel the burn in his chest and the shake in his hands and the stabs in his feet. Maybe he would handle it better than her. Maybe, if the roles were reversed, he would not wish to die.

“Baby?” he tried.

“Give me my shit, Jude,” she ordered, extending her hand for the suitcase.

This time, Jude did not fight her. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he rolled the luggage over to her, gaze falling in shame at the way her fingers deftly avoided brushing against his. Just as his mouth fell open, his one last shot at getting her to stay with him– a long shot, he knew, but still a shot after all– seven rhythmic knocks hit the front door and he knew his time was up. Her two best friends streamed in, silent as they gathered her things and carried them to the car they’d parked out front.

He waited until the second to last bag was guided outside before clearing his throat, speaking past the lump that had cultivated there. “Where are you gonna go?” he asked, more for his sake than hers.

“That’s none of your business,” she replied icily.

“But,” his voice quivered, “Baby, I love you.”

“Jude, I don’t care.”

The cool breeze of the afternoon did little to nothing to tame the burning sensation burrowing beneath her brown skin, and just before she reached her best friend’s car, she bent forward and threw her long braids into a high bun, finding that the feel of it all around her was only proving to suffocate her more. She blew a kanekalon end from her vision, taking a moment to study the houses across the street. Husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers– and now, in the house that was once theirs, just Jude.

He called her name and her head whipped to the doorway. Her name on his tongue had always felt foreign. Now, she welcomed it. She had grown sick of the constant babys, nauseous at the insincerity of his tone and the slow way he would push the name past his lips.

“Are you serious about this?” he asked after following her onto the lawn, getting just close enough so that she could see the water in his reddened brown gaze. He sniffled. “Are you really going to leave me? Even though I told you I didn’t do it? A-And even if I did do it, would you really leave me that quickly?” He shook his head. A tear fell to his full lips. “You must’ve never loved me if you can leave this fast. Have you just always hated me? Huh? Do you hate me? Just tell me, please, I can take it.”

This was his latest tactic, she knew: crying and accusing her of hating him so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and fawn over him. She could only nod politely at the sight of his tears, so brand new and yet not nearly adding up to the amount she had shed ever since their home had reverted to the listing they’d found it under.

She just patted his arm. “Keep your head up, man.”

He did not speak as she slinked into the passenger seat. He did not speak as the engine revved. He did not speak as the car took off. There was only his soulless stare as she left his life– and this was when she began to second-guess herself, unable to fathom the man she thought she would marry not having any parting words for her. At the wobble of her bottom lips, her best friend turned up the City Girls song in an effort to cheer her up. As JT rapped about needing a man who would swipe his visas, she placed a cigarette between her lips, sniffling past the sting at the back of her throat and mentally saying one final goodbye to the man she loved. She laughed loudly at her friends’ complaints about the smell, rolling the window all the way down and deciding to savor what she hoped would be the final nicotine pull of her life.

The cigarette smoke trailed out of the passenger seat window, and she watched as the life that she knew grew minuscule in the side-view mirror there. She tasted wooden herbs and felt the burn at the back of her throat, drowning the sting of tears there– and then she felt her grandmother’s hand on her back, soothing her in a way that only the woman could.

She leaned her head back and the next drag was longer. When she opened her eyes, there was only the familiar smoke around her head, and then the baby-blue sky.

#jude bellingham #football imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x oc #x oc #x original character #x reader #x black fem reader #x black fem #angst #cheating #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham x black reader

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wonderland-smile-stories · 3 months

Text

~ Chapter 6. 03 ~

I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes and how poorly written this fanfic is. English is not my first language and together with my dyslexia ass things can go wrong I'm sorry.

I was guarding the door sitting cross-legged against the wall. The lights had been shut down a few minutes ago and Mister Han was needed in the security room to help find a solution to the problem.

I volunteered for guard duty the moment they asked everyone if they wanted to volunteer.

Everyone was getting agitated by what was happening and it worsened by the day. I put my head against the wall closing my eyes.

My mind immediately went to the conversation I had the other day with Hyun-su.

"Hyun-su can you tell me something?" I asked looking up from the ground to meet his eyes. He nodded his head, so I took a deep breath before asking.

"What happened to Miss Im? I know she turned, but was harmless, right?"

Again he nodded his head, before speaking up.

"S..she had turned into what looked like a fetus in a womb."

A frown came to my face trying to imagine what it would look like. I guess if she is in a womb-like thing it's hard to attack someone.

Then it hit me why she changed into that. Which brought a small smile to my face.

"Her baby," I mutter out looking down.

"What?" Hyun-su asked.

"She wanted her daughter back, so now she kind of has. I think out of all of them she had the best ending so far." He nodded his head before looking away from me.

I'm happy she is at peace now. I wish that this all hadn't happened, but I'm glad she's okay. I look at Hyun-su's scar remembering one of the other reasons I was here.

I cleared my throat before standing up.

"C..can I clean your wounds?" I asked holding up the medical kit I had taken from the office with the monitors.

"I...I don't need that. I he."

"Heal on your own I know, but it's the least I can do when you go upstairs risking your life for us and I'm also not allowed to go upstairs anymore."

The last part came harsher out than I intended, but I was frustrated that I couldn't help him and see him come back covered in blood.

He looked at me for a second before nodding his head slowly. I gave him a small smile before kneeling in front of him, so I could have a better few of his injuries.

I placed the medical kit next to him on the crate he was sitting on. After taking out all the stuff I needed from the kit I began to gently dab on the cut he had on his neck.

It wasn't deep and I could see it already healing, but still, I continued dabbing on it to clean the blood off. The two of us were silent the whole time, but it wasn't an awkward silence.

More like peacefully, something the both of us needed. The whole time Hyun-Su's eyes were staring at something in the room, being deep in his thoughts.

Honestly, he looked peaceful like this even though there were bags under his eyes and I could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

I wish he could share the burden of running for supplies with me, but Eun-hyuk refused me to do so. It would be too suspicious if I came down with wounds and they were healed an hour later.

I looked at him to see if there were any other wounds, but there were none or at least none I could see. However, there was still some blood left on his face and other parts.

After putting the medical stuff away I took the small towel I had brought with me and the bottle of water I had filled in the bathroom.

Making the towel wet I looked at Hyun-su who was still deep in his thoughts. His hands that were lying on his lap had turned into tight fists, making me expect to see blood coming out of them any minute.

Looking back up at his face I began to clean the blood away. I was sitting in an uncomfortable position. I was trying not to touch his skin with my hand, so was only using one hand. It also didn't help that I was sitting in front of him.

The guy has long legs so the distance between me and his face is further. When I was done with his face I looked for more spots on his skin, but the only blood stains that were left were on his clothes.

If I had some spare clothes I would give them to him. I'm going to have to argue with Eun-hyuk to at least let him shower.

It must be uncomfortable running around covered in dirt, sweat, and dried-up blood.

"I'm done," I stated snapping him out of his thoughts. his eyes moved back to me.

I could feel him stare at me while I was putting everything back in the kit. When I was done I looked up at him making him look away.

"It's probably time for dinner, so I'll be back bringing yours."

I smiled ready to stand up and walk away but stopped when Hyun-su spoke.

"Mi-na, what happened upstairs?" I blinked a few times surprised by his question.

I don't think they have told him about the pictures. Do I want to tell him? I don't want to burden him more with my stupid problems.

"Uhm, we found a room with pictures of the victims of.....you know who. They were all little girls. When we wanted to come back to confront him a monster attacked us. I could shake it off, but I needed to hide for a while."

I was hoping he would believe me, but when I looked back into his eyes I could see some doubt in them.

"You're a liar. If he finds out the truth he's never going to trust you."

A groan of pain left my lips while the voice rang in my head.

It felt like she was hitting my skull over and over again.

"You okay?" Hyun-su asked concerned about what just happened.

I nodded my head squeezing my eyes shut for a second before opening them again.

"Yeah, just a headache. Don't worry about me."

I didn't have a chance to see him today after he came back downstairs.

I wanted to see Hyun-su, I wanted to see if his injuries were healing without causing any problems. So I had taken a medical kit with me just in case.

I looked at the door when I heard sounds coming from inside. It's usually really quiet in there, especially after Mister Kim died. I crawl closer putting my ear against the door.

A frown came to my face when I heard groaning sounds coming from inside. Is he in pain or is he turning? I shook my head before standing up and taking the key from my pocket.

Carefully I knocked on the door seeing if Hyun-su would react or not, but only the groaning continued.

Slowly I unlock the door before pushing it open.

"Hyun-su?" I whisper looking inside.

I shined my flashlight everywhere, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Did he escape?!

No, there is no other way out than the door and I heard him groaning so he has to be here.

I close the door behind me before fully going inside.

"Hyun-su?" I whispered a little bit louder hoping he would answer.

I let out a sigh of relief when I finally found him lying on some crates low on the ground. Walking closer the groaning sounded louder and I could see him move.

He's having a bad dream.

I squad in front of him putting my hand on his forehead. A frown came to my face when it felt normal.

I look at my hands and wonder if mine were just cold or if Hyun-su had warmed up since the last time.

My eyes landed on his arm. I had to blink a few times before I could even move or react. There was a long scar on the inside of his right arm.

To be honest, it surprised me that he survived the thing I think he did. Most of the times on places like this it should be fatal. I know that he was depressed, but I didn't know he already attempted to end his life before.

I trace my fingers over the scared skin feeling the all too familiar feeling of raised skin.

"What happened to you Hyun-su?" I whisper to myself pulling my hand back.

Now that I knew he was alright I should go back outside before anyone sees I'm in here. Then again why would anyone come here? I can only think about a few people who would come here and a lot of them are busy with important problems.

So I just took a seat against the pillar next to Hyun-su. I put the medical kit next to me before pulling my knees to my chest. I wonder how long we could survive without going outside.

At some point in time, we need to leave to find supplies and other things. But would everyone want to come with us?

And even if we would go outside are we able to survive in a group without being killed by some monsters?

Not everyone is capable of fighting or defending themselves.

Where even could we go? Another building? Somewhere else where it's safe? Where even is it safe? There could be monsters everywhere, not to mention other people too. I don't think they would be happy taking a group if they also don't have enough resources.

At times as these people would easily kill us just to take the little resources we have. Even the kids. Everyone is looking out for their own life and if you're a threat to it they will take you down.

I looked to the side when I heard movement coming from beside me.

"You alright?"

His head turned to me probably not thinking I would be in here with him.

"Yeah." His voice was soft just like always, but I could also hear a little bit of shock in it.

I nodded my head while he sat against the pillar behind him.

"It sounded like you had a bad dream. Those are the worst honestly." I said taking my flashlight from beside me.

He nodded his head before looking down at his hands. I bite the inside of my cheek trying to find a way to make this situation better, but who was I kidding?

He's slowly turning into a monster while he's being used as a dog to do the dirty work while risking his life and what did he get in return?

Being locked up in a dark room.

I cleared my throat before speaking up.

"Now that your roommate is gone I thought you could use some company."

I gave him a small smile when he looked up at me.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" I let out a laugh shaking my head.

"No offense Hyun-su, but you're 1,85 meters made off just skin and bones, and wear two different types of socks. I'm sorry that you don't strike fear into me." A little smile came to his face before he looked down at his hands.

"Besides why would I be afraid knowing you wouldn't hurt me, even if you turn?"

"How are you so sure about that?" When he looked back up his eyes met mine and for a second it was hard to breathe.

I trust him.

I truly do.

I have lived my whole life with monsters around me. I was unhappy and ready to just take my life away to end the pain for good.

But with Hyun-su I feel safe.

I don't know why maybe because we have been through a lot together. I know I have known Ji-su, Eun-yu, Eun-hyuk, and the others longer than him, but I don't have the same safe feeling as I have with him.

Don't get me wrong I feel okay and safe with them too, but it's just different with him.

"Because you're you. And I know you wouldn't want anyone to get hurt because you're a person with a big heart." His eyes didn't move away from mine the whole time.

It was the longest he had held eye contact with me. I tried to read his face about what he was thinking. I hope he was okay with my answer I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

Finally, he snapped out of his thoughts and quickly looked away from me.

"Well, you're the only one thinking that." He mutters out.

I let out a sigh knowing that he was somewhat right.

"Not everyone is like those cowards. I'm pretty sure the others will change over time when they see you're not dangerous." I hope I was right.

But are all going to survive that long to see it?

"Or you could go with plan b?" I said making him look at me confused.

"Running away from here. Surviving out there instead of being locked up in here." I said looking around the room.

I didn't mind it here, to be honest. It's quiet and peaceful.

"On my own?"

I shrug my shoulders.

"I don't mind coming with you and I'm pretty sure I know a person or two who would like to tag along."

Ji-su would definitely come and if she would go I'm pretty sure Jae-heon would follow too. Eun-yu would go in a heartbeat, but would she leave her brother behind?

She says she hates him, but I question if she telling the truth. I don't even know if Eun-hyuk would let her leave. He would probably lock her up in here for her own good or if she really wanted to go I'm sure he would too.

I can't see his face trying to see a reaction, but he always had that emotionless stare on. I'm happy when I see him smile a little, but that quickly disappears as it comes.

My eyes landed on his neck and saw that there was blood on it.

"Are you still hurt?" I reach over slightly pulling his sweater to the side seeing a wound on his collarbone.

"Uhm, yeah I guess."

I pulled away with frown brows.

"It seems like it takes more time to heal." Just like me. It takes hours sometimes a day to fully heal.

Does that mean he's going to be okay? I wanted so badly to tell him about me, but Eun-hyuk's voice came to my mind every time I wanted to.

"Come with me." I grabbed his arm gently pulling him to the couch seeing I had more light from the candles and battery-powered lamps there.

I began to take everything out of the kit that I needed before turning back towards him. He looked like he was giving up hope on everything.

I wish I could make him feel better. I wanted to say something positive that would cheer him up a little.

"At least you don't have to share a room with that asshole anymore," I said starting to clean the wound on his collarbone.

It came out quickly before I could even think about what I was going to say. I close my eyes taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. You're still locked up here. Ugh never mind. I'm sorry I haven't really slept in a while." I blabber out, trying to make some sense of the things I have been saying.

"It's alright," Hyun-su answers softly.

I'm happy he has a softer place to sleep now. It must have been painful to get a good rest sleeping on those crates he's always sitting on.

"It isn't deep. I think it will heal fast now." I mutter out more to myself than to him.

Today he had a good day in terms of not getting too hurt. I let out a satisfying sigh pulling my hand back from the already healing wound.

"You're all done," I said looking at him with a smile, which in return he gave me a little nod.

Carefully I began to put everything away making sure not to lose anything. Eun-hyuk would be nagging my ears off if I did.

I looked back at Hyun-su and saw him staring at the ground. I nudge his side with my elbow.

"You okay?"

He looks back at me slowly nodding his head.

"Yeah, everything's fine." He mutters out before looking away again and leaning back against the seat.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this. I wish I could change their minds, but they aren't the kind of people who would risk their lives for someone they barely knew."

He shrugs his shoulders not looking at me.

"It's okay, I get it."

I pulled my legs on the couch before leaning against the seat with my left side so that I could look at him.

"Hyun-su, it isn't okay. You are risking your life for ours. The least they could do is treat you like a normal human being."

"But I'm not. I'm a monster and monsters do horrible things to humans, so I don't deserve to be threatened like a human." My heart ached at the words that came out of his mouth.

You could hear how painful it was for him.

"Hey, look at me." Gently I grabbed his chin so he could look me in the eyes.

"Just because you're a monster doesn't mean you're going to do horrible things. I have known enough humans in my life that have done horrible things." I pulled my hand back while still looking at him.

"And you're definitely not one of them." He looked at me for a second before looking back down at his hands.

"Just promise me you will take care of yourself."

I paused for a moment trying to see what his reaction would be, but he only looked at me with no emotion on his face.

"If you don't want to do it for yourself do it for me." He didn't answer me which made me think I took it too far.

I gave him a small smile before standing up, so I could leave him on his own.

"Why do you care about me?"

I turned back around to face him after I had picked up the medical kit from the seat.

"Everybody deserved to be cared about. Just because you locked up here doesn't mean I care less about you." I looked down blinking away some tears that wanted to come out before turning around to leave.

Before I could even take a step a small gasp left my lips when a soft hand grabbed mine holding me in place.

"Please stay." It was almost a whisper and could easily miss it, but I still heard his soft voice.

I turn around seeing him look up at me with his big eyes.

I nodded my head slowly sitting back down on the place I sat before.

"I'll stay as long if you need me to."

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter

Hey, again a long chapter today! This chapter is the sneak peek I posted almost a year ago, so if it seems familiar it’s because of that! Enjoy!

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leighsartworks216 · 3 months

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Dominate Person

Wyll Ravengard x male!OC

Wyll and Romero are married in this fic! Because in the story I'm building (which will not be coming out in any sort of order), they've known each other since they were kids and they got married before the events of the game. Not proofread

Thank you @shenanigans-and-imagines for the angsty thoughts that have consumed my soul lol

THIS STORY DEALS WITH HEAVY THEMES

Warnings: swearing, blood, gore, violence, possession, mentions of vomiting, minor religious reference, grief, character death, broken bones (nose)

Word Count: 1,785

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“He’s summoning more undead!” Gale called. Sure enough, when Romero cut down the undead he’d been fighting and turned toward the spellcaster they fought, more undead were clawing out from the ground. He huffed, frustrated as hell, but there was little time to dwell on anything in the midst of battle.

He pierced one through the eye with his rapier, grunting as he yanked it back out of its skull with a crack. “Focus on him! We can manage the summons!”

As he wheeled around to meet the blade of another disgusting undead. Its skin was grey and leathery, just as all the others. Its jaw hung slack, only attached to its body with scraps of sinewy tendons. Its eyes, sunken and pale. If it was Romero’s first encounter with one, he may have wretched having it so close, breathing into his face with the stench of rot. Fortunately, it wasn’t.

A rapier came in from the side, slotting itself perfectly through its hanging jaw and ripping it away from Romero to the ground. Wyll lifted his blade and brought it back down into its ribcage, covered in paper-thin flesh. He shot a smirk over at the bard.

“Fancy a kiss?”

Romero laughed. “From you or these things?”

“Which would please you more?” he teased.

“Well, how could I turn down a kiss from the glorious Blade of Frontiers?”

“If you two are done flirting,” Astarion bit out from behind, where he picked off undead with his bow, “we’re still being overrun!”

Romero pat Wyll on the shoulder, a silent command to stay there, as he ran past. He slipped his rapier back into its sheath at his hip and pulled his lute off his back. Bony fingers grabbed at his arms and back as he ran into the hoard. He freed his arm with a firm yank and played as loud a note as he could. “Detono!” he shouted out with the disharmonious chords. A wave of thunder swept out around him with a monstrous boom!, knocking the creatures off their feet and pushing them away. Most of them stayed down, but the few that got up looked worse for wear.

“Better?” he called back to Astarion as he turned back with a triumphant smirk.

Before he could hear the vampire’s response, movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Just in time, he turned and raised his lute to take the hit. He was not expecting to see Wyll’s face, contorted with rage, glaring at him from the end of his sword.

“Wyll?” he breathed.

The strings screeched as the metal slid off them, pulled back for another strike. Romero shoved his lute into the attack. Wyll thrust his rapier through the hole, through the back of the instrument, and nearly caught Romero’s nose. He let go of his lute in favor of drawing his rapier again, backing away to get distance.

His mind raced as he watched his lover ripped his blade from the wood. This wasn’t Wyll, he knew that. They’d sparred hundreds of times in their years together, but never in any of those times had he looked so angry. Like every cell in his body had been injected with a pure concentration of fury. Not to mention attacking him during battle.

“Gale! Something’s wrong with Wyll!”

Wyll ran to him and lunged to spear Romero’s heart. He deflected the attack, redirecting it over his shoulder. When Wyll pulled back, he slashed a line across his cheekbone. As he felt the blood trickle down his cheek, dread seeped into his bones.

He would have to fight his husband for his own life.

Gale glanced over. Romero deflected another swing, but in the opening Wyll kicked him in the stomach, pushing him back. He coughed, gasping as he regained his balance and sidestepped a thrust. The wizard cursed. “He’s enchanted! You might be able to knock him out of it!”

Clutching his stomach, he gripped harder to his sword. He was so accustomed to fighting properly when he sparred with Wyll. They’d bow to each other, walk in a slow circle waiting for the first strike, and they’d disarm or pin the other down to win. Now he had to relearn how to fight dirty.

He began deflecting Wyll’s blade to the right, ensuring he could see the motion with his good eye and focus in that direction. Once he had an opening, he let go of his stomach and grabbed Wyll’s horn, manhandling him and flinging him to the dirt. Wyll growled as he landed.

Before he could even think about getting up, Romero was on top of him. He grabbed his wrists and held them down tight, straddling his waist where he couldn’t be kicked off despite all of his thrashing and kicking about. It hurt his heart to see Wyll like this, more rabid dog than human. The bloodlust in his eye. The horrid grimace that twisted his lovely features, accentuating the demonic traits Mizora cursed him with.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, voice quiet. “Just hold on, my love. We’ll save you.”

There was a flicker of emotion across his face. He didn’t recognize it then, but he realized later, when it appeared again in his nightmares, what it was: Wyll’d been told by the spellcaster how to break free.

He gathered his strength and pushed his upper body off the ground enough to butt his horns into Romero’s face. It was a solid hit. With a sickening crunch, Romero’s nose was broken. By pure instinct, he let go of one of Wyll’s arms to grab onto it, but fought the urge enough to grab his horn and push him back down instead.

It was too late.

His eyes flooded with tears from the pain of his nose breaking, an unfortunate reaction of the human body. He couldn’t see anything. All he felt was a hand as his chest. Familiar and wrong. His body was sent backward before his mind could comprehend the words of the spell being cast. He landed hard on the ground, gasping for air. His chest burned, in a way no fire ever could. His hands shook as he clutched blindly at the pain, crying out as he found a bloody, fleshy imprint where the hand had been.

His mind was all at once fast and sluggish, like it was trying to run through waist-deep water. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes to his ears, clearing the dirt and sweat from his cheeks and soaking into the dreadlocks that cushioned his head. Blood poured from his nose; into his mouth, into his eyes, down the back of his throat. Copper was all he could taste as he tried to swallow around the gore, but his throat wouldn’t close around it. His chest felt so tight. He couldn’t breathe. And his body only wanted to wretch from the agony, from the breathlessness, from the iron flooding his mouth.

A body straddled his hips. He forced his eyes open. He fought to see through the red haze, through the tears. He could make out the blurred shape of Wyll over him. The shadows of his arms and hands raised, rapier clutched tightly, like a devout worshipper about to sacrifice the lamb.

The tip of the blade poked into his skin, digging into the palm of the hand print. He whimpered, but the pain was already fading to numbness. All he could think of was his failure.

He couldn’t stop Wyll. He couldn’t save him from this agony. Romero would lay his life on the line for Wyll in a heartbeat, but for Wyll to be the one claiming it… Death didn’t scare him. All he worried for was what would happen to his husband after the enchantment was broken.

Wyll raised the rapier up.

Blood dribbled from the side of his mouth as Romero mouthed his final words.

I love you.

He wished he could say more, say anything. Assure his love he does not blame him for this. Comfort his love, tell him it’s okay as he readied to plunge his rapier through his heart. Instead, he did what he could. He smiled.

It lingered there, even as his eyes fluttered shut and as his chest stopped aching for air. It was the last thing to stay as his fingers relaxed, one hand limp at his side and the other slipping from his chest as gravity took hold.

The rapier clattered to the ground.

Warm, rough hands cradled the back of his neck and held the hand on his chest. “Shit, shit, shit!” Wyll hissed, damning himself, all the gods, all the devils. Tears of his own rushed from his eyes like the currents in the Chionthar. They fell like rain on Romero’s cheeks.

He carefully peeled away Romero’s hand to reveal the damage, and covered it again quickly. His flesh was mangled, almost gooey. The white of bone from his sternum and ribcage glistened in the viscera. He felt sick knowing he did that. He cast that Eldritch Blast point blank. He had no control over it, but the damage glared up at him, blaming him.

He lifted his head, heavy and limp in his hold. He let go of his hand to brush the blood off his face. Dark red smeared and stained his tanned skin, never seeming to come out no matter how many times he brushed it away. His lips were stained, too, like lipstick. The thought tore open his ribcage and clawed at his heart.

Sobs wracked his body as he got off his love, kneeling by his side and dragging his body into his lap. He cradled his head to his shoulder, pressing Romero’s still-smiling face into his neck as he pressed his quivering lips to his forehead.

He knew they could revive him. Somehow, they would carry him back to camp. Shadowheart or Withers could bring him back, or maybe Gale had a scroll somewhere. Either way, this was not grief for lost love. Romero would live and breathe again. This was the grief of murder. He murdered his husband. He burned a hole in his chest, was prepared to finish the job. If Gale and Astarion weren’t there to finish off the spellcaster, what would have happened then?

“I’ll fix this,” he croaks, whimpering as he presses a firm kiss to his hairline. “I swear, I’ll fix this.” Another sob tears through him. His shoulders tremble, chest heaving for air. In a broken whisper, as he tangles his fingers in his hair and drags his body closer and closer until he’s laid awkwardly across his lap, he says, “I love you, too.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #wyll ravengard #romero tulb #wyll x romero #wyll x oc #oc #original character #original male character #x oc #x male oc #x original character #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate wyll #baldurs gate wyll #bg3 wyll #angst

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fandomstatewrites · 1 year

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A work in progress that i’ve started of a scene from The Sound of Storms. This is the beginning of Isidore and Aemond

Read The Sound of Storms: Wattpad & Ao3

The final piece will be posted on my art account ^_^ @nataliabdraws

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #x oc #x original character #oc #oc art #original character art #house of the dragon #house of the dragon oc #house of the dragon fanart #game of thrones #game of thrones oc #the sound of storms

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prettycraxyshrimp · 2 months

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~Chapter one~

Beyond the Boundaries of Life and Death

Erik sat alone in the Opera House, his thoughts consumed by the haunting melodies that echoed through the empty halls. He had always found solace in music, it was the one thing that made him feel alive.  But today, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crying. It was faint at first, but as he focused, he could hear it growing louder and more frantic. He followed the sound to the grand entrance of the Opera House, where he found a young girl huddled in the corner, her body shaking with sobs.  She was soaked from head to toe, her clothes clinging to her skin. Erik's heart ached at the sight of her, for he knew all too well the pain of being alone and afraid. This wasn’t like him, he usually never cared for other people..but she looked so helpless..so pitiful   Without a word, he walked over to her and crouched down beside her. She flinched at his presence, her tear-stained face filled with fear.  'It's alright, my dear,' Erik said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. 'I won't harm you.'  She looked at him with uncertainty, but she didn't move. Erik could see the bruises on her face and arms, and his heart clenched with empathy and sadness for the girl   'What happened to you?' he asked, his voice filled with concern.  The girl looked down at her hands, still trembling with fear. 'I-I ran away from my family,' she whispered. 'They were hurting me, and I couldn't take it anymore.'  Erik's heart shattered at her words, for he knew all too well the pain of being mistreated by the ones who were supposed to love you. He reached out a hand to her, offering comfort.  'Come with me,' he said, his voice full of compassion. 'You can stay here for the night’  The girl looked at him in disbelief, tears still streaming down her face. 'But I don't even know you,' she said, her voice shaking.  Erik gave her a small smile. 'My name is Erik,' he said. 'And this is my home, the Opera House. It may seem intimidating, but I assure you, it is a safe place. And as for getting to know each other, we can do that in time. Right now, what's important is that you have a warm place to stay and can feel safe.'

The girl hesitated for a moment, but then nodded slowly. She took Erik's hand, and he helped her to her feet. As they walked inside, Erik felt a sense of purpose he hadn't felt in a long time. He knew that he couldn't fix all the wrongs he had committed, but he could start by giving this girl a safe place to sleep.

Erik took her to a dark underground place under the opera house. ‘I know it’s not the most flattering place..but-, she stopped him ‘no no, this is perfect..anything’s better than..’ she went quiet and stilled her movements ‘sorry I-..it’s just’ her eyes welled up with tears again at the thought of her home ‘it’s alright your safe now..’ he reassured

She smiled slightly ‘now If you are staying here just know this isn’t full term..and I have rules to set.’ His voice became stern and more serious. She nodded ‘ the first rule is you can’t leave this area without me knowing . I can’t risk people coming down here and finding me- ‘ she was confused but nodded ‘second rule, absolutely no asking about my mask or my past…that is information that shall never be revealed’ she thought these rules where odd, was Erik hiding something? Why can’t anyone know he’s down here?

‘Third and last important rule, Do not enter my chambers without permission or after 8pm’

She wanted to ask why, but she couldn’t make him angry, she needed a place to stay. ‘Yes, I’ll respect these rules’ he walked over to his organ ‘if you are to stay here I do require you to work for me, of course I’ll pay you until you have enough money to leave and get your own place to live’ she nodded ‘yes yes of course thank you!’ She smiled , Erik showed her where she was to sleep and left her for the night.

#erik destler #phantom of the opera #fanfiction #1990 phantom #x reader #x original character #i can’t write #chapter one #i can’t tag

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royaltealee · 1 year

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I am very normal about this woman-

Meryl Stryfe, my beloved 💕

(along with bbg vash and Wolfwood-)

#art #digital art #x reader #x original character #trigun #meryl fanart #meryl stryfe #meryl stryfe x reader #trigun fanart

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itzvintagevibez · 3 months

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Monica Geller x Fem!OC - Willing To Try Something New.

Living in London was such a beautiful experience for Madeline. She never wanted to leave, yet there she stood in front of an American coffee shop, desperately trying to find a place to stay. She worked as an actress and model for around twelve years. She was a well-known and respected celebrity but now everyone who saw her would give her dirty glances and send hateful comments to her.

Entering the coffee shop, she placed her coat on the coat rack and rolled her luggage to the counter. "Excuse me." she said. The waitress looked up from her notepad and glanced at the woman before her before gasping in shock. "You're that celebrity that flopped in Hollywood aren't you?" she said, tapping the woman beside her who looked at her co-worker in confusion before she made eye contact with the lady in front of her. "Oh my god, Madeline? As in Homewrecker Madeline?" the woman just blinked back the tears in her eyes before replying. "I'm not a homewrecker, alright? It's all a misunderstanding." The two workers looked between each other before rolling their eyes. "Right."

Being fed up with their behaviour, Madeline walks over to another worker who was serving drinks to a group of people. "Excuse me." The waitress sets down her last order on the counter before looking at the messy woman behind her. "Ye- Whoa...I mean, hello, how can I help you?" she said with a bright smile. "I was hoping if you knew a place where I could sleepover for the next few days till I can get a place of my own." The waitress was about to answer till she heard a loud cough behind her. She looked behind her to look at the group of people who were calling her over.

She apologized saying she'd be right back and walked over to them. Madeline was impatiently waiting with her luggage watching as the waitress talked to the people. Her gaze landed on one of the woman in the group, she looked stunning with her shoulder length, black hair and beautiful lips that looked kissable. Her blue eyes looked gorgeous but it was hard for Madeline to see them clearer since she was a bit far and wasn't wearing her prescribed glasses as she should.

The waitress was finally done with her chattering walked over to the woman who was both nervous and worrisome. What if the woman said she hadn't none any place that was giving free accommodation. She couldn't go back to London, the reason why she had even came to America was to get away from the drama but if she didn't find a place to lay low then she'd have no choice but to return back home to the insults, the dirty glances from people on the street, her family's constant casting her out and her own friends turning their backs to her. She couldn't go back to that. She had to suffer with that for more than a month, to live with it for many more months and mostly likely years as well would be literal torture.

Madeline was pulled out of her thought with the sound of clap in front of her face. "Sorry, what were you saying?" she asked the waitress who looked at her with a large smile, this one was more genuine than the one before. "I was saying that I do know a perfect place." Madeline's eyes widened in shock and her jaw nearly dropped but she regained her posture. "Really, where?" she asked. "At my friend's apartment, it's only a few blocks and stairs away, not at all far from here." "Oh- I don't know if I can accept, I don't wanna be a bother to your friend." "She honestly doesn't mind, not all, right Monica?" the waitress turned to the side to look at her friend who she was talking about. It was the woman that Madeline had being eyeing earlier on. "Yeah, it's cool I have an extra bedroom that no one's using." The waitress turned back to me with her beaming smile never leaving her face. "Yeah and I live with her too so it'll be her, you and I together."

The black-haired woman was hesitant for a moment till she looked back at the seated woman who had a small smile on her face. It's not like she's never seen anyone smile before cause she's seen the waitress's never leaving smile but there was something about her friend's smile that made Madeline feel like saying yes was the right choice. So she did. "Great! Would you guys mind taking her back to the apartment and getting her comfortable?" said the waitress referring to the other people who were mostly likely her other friends. "Yeah, no problem." they said. "Great! So I'm Rachel by the way- Rachel Green and these are all my friends, they'll help you get settled in and make you feel welcomed." "Alright then, thank you so much, I promise that one day I'll repay you." said Madeline as she shook the woman's hand. "There's no worries, anyway I have to get back to work, I'll talk to you at the apartment when I'm doing with my shift. Bye." "Bye."

"You ready to go? Or would you like to order something first?" said Monica. "Um-" Looking down, Madeline observed her messy body that was covered in absolute filth. "I think I'm ready to go, I could really use a shower." Sniffing her sleeve of her shirt she nearly gaged. "Or two."

-----

Chapter 2

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ericityyy · 4 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 // 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

➻ 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙀𝙙𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙚

none

➻ 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙖𝙣

none

𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 (characters can still be added)

#the chronicles of narnia #tcon #edmund pevensie #edmund #king edmund #prince caspian #king caspian #pevensies #x reader #x oc #x original character #original character #imagines

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yuyinesque · 19 days

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divine retribution. this is my “dni” section; this list will result in an automatic block if you execute any of the following. if this list seems too hard for you to perform, then you will exit forcefully.

⇥ Ⅰ. homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, and fatphobia will not be tolerated in the slightest, my nigga, hence it will be resulted in an immediate block.

⇥ Ⅱ. racism or racial ignorance (micro-aggressions, disrespectful stereotypes. etc.) will also result in an immediate block no matter what. it’s alright to ask questions on something you’re not educated on, seeing as i’m willing to teach and learn just like the rest, but what’s not okay is bashing an individual because of their race.

⇥ Ⅲ. pedophiles or pedophilia-netrual individuals. you get the fuck off my account with that shit, period. in fact, i might get your shit terminated...

⇥ Ⅳ. pro-shippers may also find the exit to your right- definitely not my right… i won’t even go into detail about this baboonery.

⇥ Ⅴ. & ageless blogs/minors under 17. as an eighteen year old, i’d be damned if someone’s fourteen year old was reading some of my choso smut. if you’re a minor, stray away from my nsfw content. i serve fluff for all ages, so relax.

yuyinesque | translate with permission & peruse without theft.

#₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮!#ᖭི༏ᖫ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰!#x reader #x original character #x y/n #x black reader #x black fem reader #x black plus size reader #x black male reader #x black oc #x black y/n #y/n x character #jjk x reader #genshin impact x reader #spider man x reader #haikyuu x reader #one piece x reader #black owned

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deadsnothere · 1 year

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HE WAS AWAKE?! Pt. 2

synopsis - After a "sleeping" confession gone wrong, Lockwood try's to ease the tension but only makes it worse for himself. Can these obviously idiots figure it out with the help of their friend or are they just that stupid!

Masterlist

request - Yes and no?

Word count - 2.2k

Speak Ali! - LOOK WHO FINISHED PART TWO!! No one else posted lockwood fics today so I thought I might be y'all's hero

HE WAS AWAKE?! <- PT.1

“Did you just call me a self-sacrificing idiot-?” SHIT-

Neither of us spoke for a good 10 seconds. In those ten seconds I'm not even sure if I was breathing. “Yes…?” there was definitely some uncertainty to my tone of voice- I mean how the fuck was that, what Anthony was focused on! I just confessed my love for him while he was “asleep”, and his main worry is that I called him a self-sacrificing idiot. I could feel my stomach finally drop, suddenly I became very aware of everything around me. This was shit.

The way his breath fanned on my neck and chest made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, how he watched my every movement, but I was stuck in place as if I'd been ghost locked. My hands were still settled in his hair, my shoulders tense, head practically spinning.

I want to throw up. At this point my nerves are so bad, I could throw up. Nonetheless I spoke softly and shakily. “I should've checked, if you were asleep-” This was painful. Physically painful, My stomach was doing backflips- and not good backflips you get when you're happy, those horrid one's you get when you can feel the worst about to come. ”you weren't supposed to hear that-'' Why wont my mouth shut up- “I'm sorry I just…” -Oh wait, I’m supposed to shut my mouth up.

I didn't try to speak anymore, just slowly moved myself away from Anthony, moving to the end of the bed to stand up. My eyes were swelling with tears, like anticipation in a good book, they were building up to drop the worst part.

“Alias-” I can feel how wobbly my legs are, my vision was blurry for a few seconds when I stood up and I went for the door. I opened it quietly, “Alias! Would you list-” slipping out before I could hear the rest of what he wanted to say. This shit was unbearable. I’ve never wanted to throw up more, maybe I should, it might make me feel better- No I know who can make me feel better.

Lucy Carlyle. Was my best friend. When she first moved in we were rooming together, because we were fixing up my room to be liveable again after a small accident with some smoke and a left on solder iron. In those two months of us living together we’d become very close, learning things about each other, we hadn't even told the people closest to us before. She's is who’s room, i'm speed walking to right now.

“Lucy! Lucy, please open the door, I need someone to hate this jackass with me.” I knocked as softly as I could but hopefully hard enough for her to hear it. We had names for them both, George was Asswipe and Lockwood was Jackass, we did this so we could talk about them without them noticing, although it was mostly used for Lockwood since Lucy loved to tease me about having a “crush” on him. When she opened the door she looked tired, her hair was a bit messy, one hand was rubbing her eye while the other held someone else's. Oh shit I forgot Norrie was here.

“Hi Norrie, Lucy, I'm so sorry for interrupting your time with your girlfriend but our boss is an ass.” The more I spoke, the more I could hear my voice start to crack from the overwhelming emotions swirling in my head. This fucking sucked. This was so shit- I hate this. Norrie just nodded her head and laid it on Lucy's shoulder. Lucy gave her forehead a quick kiss before she whispered in her ear softly. Norrie moved to lay back down in Lucy’s bed while Lucy stepped out and shut the door behind her.

We both moved without speaking, Walked down the stairs past my room, where the door was cracked still. Lockwood was in my room, stood up looking around at the metal creations hanging off the ceiling. Both me and Lucy were looking into the room, spying on him. “Why's lockwood in your room Alias?” I sighed and lifted my head up nodding a no for now, before we started our descent down the staircase again.

When we got to the kitchen I sat down, while Lucy put the kettle on the burner. When she did so she looked over to me with a raised eyebrow. “So what did the jackass do this time?” I sighed softly and finally let the tears slip out of my eyes. “I confessed my love for him and called him a self-sacrificing idiot while I thought he was asleep- But he wasn't asleep.” Lucy's face cringed. She didn't know it was this bad. “And when he answered he said, “Did you call me a self-sacrificing idiot,” completely ignoring what I said before.”

She put a hand on her forehead. “Oh Ali…Ali” She walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my head and patting my back softly. “He's an idiot.” I nodded along with her, hugging her waist back. Tears fluently slipped out of my eyes, They slipped out because I was definitely not letting them out willingly. “He's the biggest Jackass! I mean I told him I loved him and he focused on that!” I sighed when she let go, I put my head into my hands and sighed. “of all things, the idiot focused on that!”

Lucy laughed lightly, She always had this face when she knew something you didn't, What did she know? “What do you know!?” She jumped almost scared. “Uh- Nothing, what are you talking about-” I squinted at her. “You stuttered you almost never stutter that hard, What do you know, Carlyle.”

She ignored my question and took the whistling kettle off the burner, she turned the stove dial to off, took three cups down, Mine, Norries, and one I couldn't see, because she was obviously standing in front of it, to hide it from me. She poured hot water into all three, took two tea bags out of an earl gray box and a hot chocolate packet out of a different box. “You hate earl gray.” She looked back at me and raised an eyebrow. “I do, But Lockwood doesn’t.” I squinted at her as threat when she stepped out of the way of my line of sight and lockwoods mug itself. “I don't wanna talk to him.” Lie. “Oh don't bullshit me, Alias.” She scoffed at the horrible lie. “I know you like the palm of my hand. We both know, you want to know what he's thinking right now, So you're going to talk to him.”

I rolled my eyes watching closely as she mixed my hot chocolate powder into the hot water, after she put the two bags of earl gray into the other two cups of water. She handed me my cup, as well as Lockwoods, and pulled me to stand up.

We made it to the bottom of the staircase before she stopped me. “Hear him out Ali, I Know you're not the happiest with him right now, but hear his side, ok?” I just nodded a yes, and continued to walk up the stairs with her. Stopping in front of my door. Lockwood was now looking around at my metal working table. Me and Lucy made eye contact, she gave me a thumbs up before softly pushing me into the door and scrambling off herself.

When I was pushed into the door I tried my hardest not to spill any of the hot liquid on myself. Anthony was startled when I barged in. “Are you ok, Alias?” He came to my aid almost immediately, helping me steady myself. I set both the cups down on the desk right beside the door, sighing deeply and rubbing my forehead, hoping maybe i'll explode and not have to deal with this. But I still looked him in the eye and tried my absolute best not to sound like I was going to cry when I spoke. “Why didn’t you respond to me, when I said “I love you”?” He immediately dodged the question. “Can you hand me the cup?”

“Anthony, you answer my question now and I'll at least have some understanding of how you feel, or I'll walk out of this room right now.” I couldn't tell how Anthony felt in the moment, He was so confusing!- Why was he so blank faced it made no sense. This was supposed to be a big emotional moment when he rejects me and says he loves someone else and I try to move on. “We never speak of this again and we're both left confused. So please Ant don't do that to me-” Ok so maybe I sounded a bit desperate, I couldn't help it! my emotions were getting so overwhelming, I felt like I was about to explode. “-Just reject me and let's lay back down and go to sleep,” My hands ran through my hair, the pieces falling in front of my face. He grabbed my hands and pulled me close to his chest, his arms wrapped around my waist and his head laid on my own. “Please Ant…” I think I’d broken his heart at that moment. My voice spoke sweet like honey but it was saturated in desperation.

He sighed softly, Taking in that moment as much as he could. “I didn't respond because you make me nervous, Alias. Your touch could burn holes in my skin, darling.” His arms loosened his grip around me, Slowly slipping up to my face, cradling it in his hand. ”That was poetic, Anthony..” We both chuckled, I kissed his palm and smiled at him warmly. ”I do love you, Alias. I was just too much of a wimp to say it.” I giggled, his other hand moved to cup the other side of my face. ”Yeah you are a wimp.” I pulled him closer and dug my head into his chest. ”Thank you so much, darling for making me feel better-” I giggled once again trying to hide how happy this made me feel..

Lockwood used his pointer finger and thumb, making me face him. He wasn't using that stupid charming smile that although I loved, didn't feel like the real him. Instead he gave me that boyish grin, the one that made my heart flutter when I made eye contact with him, the one that showed how vulnerable he was willing to be with me. “Can I kiss you? Before I realize this is another crazy dream, I’ll play on repeat in the morning.” Laughing lightly, I placed my hands on his hips. “oh, you’ve been dreaming about me?” I just knew my face was lit up like a Christmas tree, I tried my best to softly whisper out a response. “But please do kiss me you idiot.”

When we kissed for the first time it wasn't what i thought it would be, it was awkward and felt weird. But afterwards we still giggled about it. This time I grabbed his face and pulled him down slightly so his lips would slot just perfectly with mine. The first kiss wasn't that great, But the second kiss was electric. His hands trailed up my hips, up my waist, one stopping on my back, the other on the nape of my neck. Our body's pulled as close together as possible. Our mouths moved perfectly together, like we were singing the same song. I had to pull away first, he was following my lips as they left his own. "I simply cannot believe that I waited this long to kiss you.” I laughed at his words, but not in a mocking way- in a feeling of pure joy. “I'm so glad you did…But my bed looks kinda lonely. I'm sure it wouldn't mind, two more people?”

He raised an eyebrow at me, jokingly. “What are you saying, Alias? Trying to get me in your bed.” I sighed softly, kissing his forehead, and backing up from him slightly towards my bed.. “You have to be my boyfriend's first jackass.” He gave me a smug smirk. “Oh so I have to be your boyfriend to get in bed with you huh?” Anthony walked towards me slowly. Once he reached me, he lifted me up slightly and watched me fall on the bed. Immediately laying down next to me. “Looks like I'm your boyfriend now, darling.”

This idiot- “Very smooth Ant- But yes now you are my boyfriend.” He didn't ask, he just said. I'm sure if I would’ve said I wasn't comfortable with it he would’ve backed off but after what just happened there, I'm sure he knew.

He pulled me closer to him, feeling his chest go up and down with his breathing, hands wrapped around my waist and our legs tangled together once more. It was the same yet, so different, at the same time. “Good night, Alias.” He kissed the top of my head softly. “Good night, Anthony.” I repeated the action on his cheek.

Laying my head down on his chest and feeling my eyes slowly…fall closed. Finally meeting the sandman.

(George was not happy about our wasted tea bags, he found in the trash the next morning.)

I'm not going to lie i went crazy when you all actually liked the first part- thank you so much for the likes on that post! i genuinely really appreciate it!

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co dr #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #lucy x norrie #x reader #x oc #x original character #x me kinda 🌝#this is basically a self insert guys don't go thinking i'm everything i'm a loser to #speak ali!!#the chronicles of alias forman #reader has a name #anthony lockwood x alias foreman

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hypnotiiize · 1 year

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𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐝

𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩

𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: i LOOOOOVEUH writing for trent it puts me back in my wattpad bag. it’s funny TO ME ☝🏽 plus a little rival moment going on. and SHES BLACK ofc. but ima stop saying that the main character’s Black cause it’s a given w me and also i want ppl to feel shell-shocked like i do when i’m reading and suddenly it’s all “you blushed a deep red” “he ran his fingers through your fine hair”

+ there’s a lot of marvel references in this one u gotta bear w me

Trent had no clue how she’d managed to do it: maneuver around him quietly, sit in plain sight seamlessly, spread the apparent word quickly.

By the time he’d caught a whiff of the story she’d concocted, it was already too far gone, as it had spread something akin to wildfire. There had only been the four horrid, soul-crushing, gut-wrenching words that solidified what he was sure would count as a loss against him.

“I met your fiancée.”

His eyebrows had furrowed. He’d tilted his head. He’d even decided, in that split second, that he couldn’t have possibly comprehended those words correctly.

“You met my what?” Trent asked as he fought to understand what the man must’ve said; what he assumed he had missed due to the absurdity of the supposed words.

The middle-aged man repeated his sentence with a wide, congratulatory grin, and Trent could hear nothing but the rush of blood in his ears, trickling down his spine to his feet and weighing him to the ground there.

The rush, he realized quickly in his desire to stay afloat, sounded like the ocean. If he closed his eyes, he could find the turquoise water waving at him. He could look down and watch the ocean flow around his ankles, beckoning him to its tide, where he would eventually be swept up in its serenity. He could bend at his waist and dip a hand into the foam there; he could swirl his hand around and lift up a piece of salty-smelling seaweed.

But his eyes were wide open.

And he was well aware that the ocean-sounding rush was, instead, more comparable to hysteria.

And when he looked down, he could only see a well-moisturized hand with a shiny engagement ring propped up on his arm.

His brown eyes tracked the arm slowly– timidly– to the woman beside him, who had managed to cozy up to him as he was stuck in his reverie. His heart dropped: she was wearing a shirt just as red as the blood he could hear, and he was positive that if he turned her around, he would see his last name sprawled across her back and the large sixty-six just underneath that.

He fought the urge to fall to the ground and kick his feet in every which way.

The tranquility of the ocean’s crashing waves came to an abrupt stop. He was yanked back to Earth, his soul breathless as it slammed back into his hollow body.

As he caught his breath unevenly, the woman– his twisted gender-bent version of Thanos– was saying to the middle-aged man, “Yeah, we’re, like, deep in love.”

“Aw, that’s so lovely,” replied the man, whose hand was pressed against his heart sincerely. “It’s just so nice to see young love.”

The woman nodded, tightening her hand on Trent’s arm affectionately. “Aw, yeah. Isn’t it?”

There was a flash in which he recalled the comic books from his childhood, and not for the first time in his life, Trent yearned for the ability to teleport. If he could– if had been bitten by a radioactive spider or turned into a super soldier or born on another planet– he would be on the beach, watching the turquoise water wave at him and looking down to see it flow around his ankles. He thought that, perhaps, if he closed his eyes and regulated his breathing enough, the atoms would align perfectly and suddenly– so, so suddenly– he would feel the warmth of the Sun on his skin and the sand between his toes.

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

When he opened his eyes, he was still on the football field.

Fuck.

“He gets a little wistful when we talk about being together, y’know?” she was saying to the man, explaining Trent’s attempt to spontaneously combust into thin air. She emphasized her points with her free hand, her fingers pressed against the pad of her thumb as she added, “Since our love is just so real and palpable.”

“Wow. Love is beautiful,” replied the man, and Trent bit into the inside of his cheeks. “Engaged, though, wow. I didn’t even know Trent was with anybody!”

“Yeah. Private, but not secret. Isn’t that what they say, TT?” She squeezed his arm once more, angling her head as if she was going to place it on his shoulder. At the last moment, she left an inch between them as if she, too, did not want to be intimate in that way with him.

Trent exhaled harshly through flared nostrils.

“I respect that,” said the man as he nodded at them. “Wow. How long have you two kids been together?”

Trent could see her turn to him in his peripheral. There was a deafening ring somewhere within his head, bouncing off of the inside of his skull when he realized that something absolutely stupid and mildly comedic to only her was going to happen.

He prayed for the beach.

She hummed, feigning as if she was thinking before sighing softly. “Gee, I don’t know. It all just goes so fast when you’re so deep in love. Why, it’s,” her eyes lit up as she giggled and Trent knew something villainous was afoot, “It’s almost like it didn’t even happen. Isn’t it, my love?”

Trent contemplated spitting up on himself as the man before them smiled kindly at their supposed union. Trent supposed that if he was the man, he, too, would have smiled. The man was not at all privy to Trent’s loss of power in the dynamic. For the fact was, and thus it would remain: she had won that round.

Big time.

Huge time.

He side-eyed the woman clinging to his arm. “It really didn’t happen,” he found his voice.

“I know, that’s so how it feels,” she added swiftly, well aware of the meaning Trent’s words had. She turned back to the gushing man before Trent could burst the carefully articulated bubble she’d blown. “But when you know, you know… You know?”

The man chortled. “Oh trust me, I know.”

“You know,” she joked like someone’s middle-aged mother, chuckling in a haughty way that Trent had never heard from her before in their months of being reluctant partners in– and he found this part ironic on account of her devious ways– crime.

The world around him spun on its axis as he called for the beach once more.

“Excuse me,” Trent said apologetically to the man as he wrapped his index finger and thumb around her wrist. He drew her closer to his body easily as he backed up. “Really sorry. I have to talk to, uh–”

“Your fiancée, silly,” she finished his sentence in a high-pitched voice, smacking her lips together and gesturing to Trent with her thumb as he tugged her away. “Ugh, this one’s so needy. Love him crazy, though. See you later, sir! And give my best to your wife!”

As Trent planted her back against the concrete wall that shielded them from onlookers, he questioned, briefly, if the superheroes that he fell in love with as a child had to face bad guys as annoying and disagreeable as the woman before him. He highly doubted it; he couldn’t fathom a villain having as much time on her hands as she did. He would have rathered be overtaken by the Green Goblin than some girl wearing a nameplate necklace and biker shorts.

“How’d you get in here?” he hissed, straining his ears for what he was sure would be a broadcast over the loudspeakers: “Breaking news, four security guards found unconscious at the gates. The suspect, wearing Air Force Ones and gold hoop earrings, is still at large. Be vigilant.”

The suspect before him just wrung her hands together, playing with her fingers as she grit her teeth tight in a grimace. When she spoke, it was cautiously.

“Trent, and don’t gasp when I say this, but…” she gulped, “I walked.”

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

Trent screwed his eyes shut at her cutting sarcasm and remembered thirty minutes prior, back when he only had the rush of winning on his mind and not the urge to put the woman before him in a straight jacket. Ignorance was truly, truly bliss. And wherever she had managed to bring him to was whatever the opposite of what bliss was.

“Oh, you walked? You walked? Oh, haha, you walked,” he faked a laugh before throwing his hands in the air, rumbling, “Yeah, no shit, you walked!”

She had the nerve to look at him sideways. “Geez, that’s a lot of hostility. Why’d you ask if it’s obvious, then? I thought you really cared, so this is just hurtful,” she said– no, she lied facetiously through her teeth because she enjoyed being a headache and a half.

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

He inhaled through his nostrils for three long seconds and then pursed his lips as he exhaled through his mouth. She waited patiently for whatever he would say, a peaceful smile on her shiny lips.

“You know,” Trent began conversationally after gathering his composure, “I think you trigger my gag reflex or something. Like, I see you, and I start dry heaving. You’re nauseating.”

She grinned, her hands placed on her hips as if she was posing proudly. “Ah. That’s just what every young lady loves to hear from a man.”

“Shut up,” he retorted quickly. Her smile only widened. “I think you’re bad for my nerves,” he hypothesized, “Actually, I think you’re going to be the reason I take up Xanax.”

“Or, y’know, I could get you one of those vests that dogs have for when they let off fireworks,” she suggested, hugging the air around her so that he could visualize the Thundershirt in question.

“Or, you could leave me alone,” he proposed, his eyebrows raised.

“But… Dog vest?” she tried.

“But… My peace?” he tried harder.

There was a stretch of silence in which she pressed her lips together and tilted her head at him, an undecipherable look sparkling in her eyes as she scanned his face. Trent’s own eyes drank her in as well, desperately attempting to stay aware of her every social cue as the slightest flick of her eyebrow could mean a sarcastic jab that he would have to respond to. When her gaze fell to his shoes briefly, Trent was struck with the realization that she was— Sunshine, sand, seaweed— attractive. He was usually too caught up fighting for his life to revel in her looks, but in scarce moments like those, when she would fall silent and analyze him (she was always analyzing something, he noticed. That was probably why she was so good at being cunning), he would be reminded of how beautiful she was. If only she didn’t moonlight as Doc Ock.

Her eyes snapped to his once more. She was smirking something wicked. Trent moved to speak just before she could mess with his day further, choosing to cave to her will. He hoped that, in giving in, she would grow bored and leave. She was smart for catching him right after a game, he’d give her that; he was too busy aching all over and yearning for a nap, he simply didn’t have it in him to go toe-to-toe with her.

“I’ll let you get back at me this one time,” was what he said, shaking his head mournfully at his loss and reminiscing on his last win— the very win that he was sure had brought on this fiancée act.

“Aw, TT,” she began sweetly, pouting as if she found him adorable. A gag wracked his body at the absolutely horrible nickname. She raised her hand and brushed a loc from his vision, breaking the news to him gently, “You didn’t ‘let me’ do anything. I won anyway, silly. But thank you for being so nice.”

“A win is debatable,” he replied with an indignant scoff. (He had already changed the scoreboard in her favor.)

“Aw.” Her soft fingers fell to his chin and she gently squeezed him there, shaking his head lightly as if she was someone’s grandmother. “You’re so cute when you’re delusional,” was her response.

He eyed her. “Don’t call me cute.”

Her pout deepened. “Aw, you’re so cute when you say don’t call you cute. Cutie,” she complimented, her tone syrupy as she poked a finger into his torso. As her words washed over him, Trent was smacked with what he assumed a sodium overdose felt like.

Sunshine, sand, seaweed... Maybe even some actual weed thrown in there, too.

“I just– I really want you to know,” he began, speaking past the rising blood pressure from her salt-seasoned words, “That I just... I really despise you.”

“Ah,” she sighed, smiling prettily as if she had woken up from the sweetest of dreams. “So this is love.”

“It’s something, alright,” he mumbled bitterly. She fixed a smile in his direction, goodnatured and charming, and he could feel his carefully crafted resolve breaking, swaying toward the frustrating girl before him.

Someone shouted for him somewhere neither of them could see, though perhaps their inability to look away from one another had been what did it. He broke first after a pregnant pause, having drank in her every expression, glancing away to promise his presence to the voice. When he turned back, the girl was using a single finger and tapping her shades down onto her nose.

“I’ll see you later, TT,” she said, taunting him as she began her leisurely stroll further and further away from him.

“You’re going?” he asked after her, ignoring the nickname in exchange for optimism despite her shoddy track record.

She spun on the heel of her foot, her grin radiant. “Yes, I’m going–”

His shoulders fell in relief at her response. “Oh, thank God…”

“–Going to go show everyone our engagement photos! Gotta show ‘em what real love looks like.”

He choked raggedly on the air he’d gasped into his lungs. There was a chill somewhere, and he was sure it had began at the ends of his hair though he could only feel its electricity zipping down his chilled spine. He looked all around for a camera.

SunshinesandseaweedSunshinesandseaweed.

“You’ve gotta what?” There was real, visceral panic in his shaking voice as he watched the girl begin to skip-to-her-lou in the name of mass destruction.

“I’ll see you later, dear!” she shouted warmly to him over her shoulder, always leaving him in the dust.

SUNSHINESANDSEAWEED—

“You’ve gotta WHAT?!”

#trent alexander arnold #x reader #x black reader #x oc #x original character #x black fem reader #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x black reader #football #football imagine #fanfic #fanfiction

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notsoelegantdoewrites · 1 year

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The Last Valyrian Warrior

Summary: Every story has a beginning. This is yours.

Daemon Targaryen x Valyrian!Reader/OFC

Creator Chose Not To Use Warnings

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 1 of The Last Valyrian Warrior Series

AO3

A/N: This is my first published work. Super nervous how it came out. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANY OF MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ANYWHERE

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The day could not have been more perfect. Not a single cloud could be seen, not even from the tallest tower of the Red Keep, leaving the skies miles upon miles away clear as ever. Skies perfect for flying.

It was to be a joyous day as the young Prince Daemon was to celebrate his 7th name day. Normally there would be a grand feast to honor the youngest grandson of the King but Dameon had other plans. After a night of pleading and begging, Prince Baelon had yielded to his son’s insistent plea to not attend the day-long feast and instead fly on top of Vhagar across the Narrow Sea to visit the Free City of Braavos. Ever so ambitious and adventurous was his son. The dragon was beyond capable to hold him and Daemon along with his eldest Viserys on the journey so where was the harm in accommodating the boy’s one request.

Braavos, the northernmost city-state on the western coast of Essos. A city of wealth and song with a history dating back to before the Doom of Valyria. Yet it was not the history that attracted the attention of the boy, it was that of the land and structures in which the city was well known for. The land comprised Sellagoro's Shield, the Drowned Town, and Purple Harbor. Structures included the Iron Bank, the House of Black and White and the Temple of the Moonsingers, and the noteworthy Titan of Braavos. After the lesson in which Daemon learned of the whole of Braavos, all he could imagine was circling the guardian on dragonback. To be able to admire the granite and bronze warrior from up close, and heed his warning roar would be the highlight of his day.

The plan was to fly from the dragonpit in the morning, allowing enough time to travel across the Narrow Sea and arrive somewhere around midday just in time for the Titan’s roar. After a few flights around the perimeter that would allow all three of the princes to set eyes upon the entirety of the city it would be an appropriate time to rest Vhagar and have a quick meal themselves. Then they would return to King’s Landing for the remainder of the feast no matter the hour, for their obligatory appearance that even they could not entirely avoid.

Dameon had been up for hours already, patiently waiting for his father and brother. The servants had already brought him his morning meal and he was all dressed and ready. A knock on his chamber door brought forth his excitement ten fold. His spirits had been at a high since his father agreed to his request. For the first time he was able to celebrate the way he wanted to. Away from the court and their boring chatter, for he was not much into such events to begin with. Even if they were all for him. He was eager as a dog waiting for the hunt and now the time had finally come. He essentially sprinted out his door past his father and down to the courtyard where the coach to bring them to the dragonpit was waiting. He very nearly pushed a few servants down the entrance hall steps in his haste to get past them.

All Baelon could do was smile as he watched his son. It was a smile of pure happiness, the kind that had not spread on his face as often since the Princess Alyssa had passed. No, he would not let sad thoughts ruin his mood. It was Daemon’s name day and to honor his late sister wife, he would continue to honor their son.

The youngest Targaryen was reminded several times by his father to calm down before reaching the pit and furthermore Vhagar. The mighty beast needed to be in a state of calm as well before they were to leave the ground. If she was not already calmed by the dragonkeepers after they brought her out of her cave it would be more difficult to do so if Daemon was not. If they failed, she may choose not to fly at all, abruptly ending the day before it even began. Dragons, such temperamental creatures. No matter how much time was spent in training, if they were adamant about not doing something, what was a mere human going to do?

Once arrived, surprisingly Vhagar seemed more than content, like she herself knew the reasoning behind her being withdrawn. On the dragon’s rider’s approach, she welcomed his familiar touch on her snout and down the length of her skull. The radiant warmth from her core would prove no problem in keeping them warm amongst the wind high in the sky. Daemon along with Viserys soon made their careful advance on Baelon’s behest. The introduction was quick as Vhagar already recognized the boys from previous. Their touch cautious but permitted nonetheless. With the last few preparations finished, each one of them began the ascent upon the dragon and after everyone was situated, with command and strong beats of wing they departed to the skies.

—

Everything proceeded as expected. The Titan’s roar punctured their ears upon midday arrival, leaving a satisfying ringing in its wake. Being in flight around the structure only aided in this. The journey around the perimeter of the city itself was a sight to behold. While many details were obscured due to the height they flew, they still saw its unique and exquisite design.

Here they were now somewhere along the beaches of the Braavosian Coastland for their scheduled rest, indicating that their adventure was at an end. Their mount laid on the sand under the warm sun a ways away as the princes rested upon an outcropping of rocks finishing their small picnic. The sea breeze kept them cool as the sun warmed them as well. Recounting everything he had seen from the skies, with the few interjections from Viserys’ elation, Daemon could not stay still long enough to finish his own provisions. When he had proposed this outing, he did not see it being as glorious. This name day would be one he would not forget but not for this reasoning alone. An unknown matter was to arise, as if by fate, that would affect the many coming years.

At first the smell was masked by that of salty air and dragon. The boys' father was the first to notice as the day grew longer but there was no mistaking it. The aroma of burnt timber emanated from the tree line behind them. Vhagar was still resting so there was no way she could have set something ablaze. Not to mention that scent would have been much stronger than the current. Curiosity was a known killer but for a dragon, it made them all the wiser. Viserys remained oblivious while Daemon was the next to discern the odor, glancing to his father to see if he too had noticed. With Baelon’s attention to the background, he looked to the same path.

“Father?”

“The two of you are to stay put.”

With firm instruction given, he raised from his seat to proceed and find the source. The trees and soil were thoroughly soaked as if it had been rained upon for many hours. Being that they were bordering the Shivering Sea it very well could have the day prior. Another reason as to why the smell was suppressed. It was not long before he came upon the grievous site. What appeared to be a small cabin now laid burnt down to nothing, only a few structural supports left indicating that a home once resided here. Rain must have dosed the flames before anyone was to notice the inferno and the smoke that should have billowed from it. He was no stranger to death by fire and wished that if the inhabitants were victims, that they died quickly. Burning was not painless. Just as he was about to make his leave, a tiny sneeze was heard from somewhere close by. It was loud enough for it not to have been his sons for he had told them to stay put on the shore. This only meant that whoever did live here survived.

Another sneeze gave away this individual’s position. Amongst the surrounding trees, a child no more than the age of 3 was seen sitting on the ground viewing this silver haired stranger through the same gap of foliage. They were covered in a layer of mud that laid on top of a layer of residual soot and ash, covering their features from head to toe. No visible injuries could be seen and hopefully none were hidden beneath the filth. Being so young it was also challenging to determine this child’s gender at that time.

Gentle hands of a father stretched forward with palms facing upward, a tell tale sign of meaning no harm, the prince slowly approached. His main goal at present was to not scare the child and have them running off. Upon his closer proximity he could see what lay just mere inches from the babe, the remains of a mother desperately trying to save her own flesh and blood. Burns of all stages adorned her skin. They along with the inhalation of smoke certainly was the becoming of her untimely end. Once content that he would not lose this child to fear, he kneeled next to the woman to establish that she was indeed gone as she was beyond cold to the touch. Looking up, his sympathy was overtaken by shock, for the eyes he met were eyes of Old Valyria. A vibrant lilac pierced his violet. The only difference from that of the eyes he sees everyday from his Valyrian kin was that of the azure band encircling their iris, a trait only known to him from written history of his ancestral home. Further inspection of the late woman revealed silver strands under a type of thick black ink. Most likely something similar would be found on her offspring’s head as well. To hide their true lineage could only mean this mother was trying to protect themselves, an act proven to be done unsuccessfully.

With this hereditary discovery, Baelon now felt a sense of responsibility to assume care of this youngling. No doubt his action would raise intense deliberation of what to do with the child once back in King’s Landing but nothing in that moment could sway his mind. Shifting to place himself in front of them blocking their view of the departed while still maintaining a kneeling position, he reached out again.

“It is alright now. No harm will come to you from me.”

“Muña.” (Mother.)

To hear the tongue of Valyria amongst soft sniffles, he considered that this may be all they could understand and perhaps responding the same would be just the advantage he needed. So, he tried.

“Māzigon byka mēre.” (Come little one.)

That was all it took. Three simple words and the trust he was hoping to gain came without hesitation as the child stood. Taking those few steps forward, stumbling on bare feet, they moved into his awaiting embrace. He should have known not to expect his own children to do as he asked as easily. The two, when together, were always engrossed in being involved or spying on matters that did not concern them. It was persistently that of Daemon's cunningness that led to his brother's involvement in most cases. To be fair they would have found out what transpired but the intention was for them to stay safely on the beach. Turning, upon standing, to find both of them there with fixed stares at the child in his arms did not come to surprise him. They would have questions but he merely moved in their direction and led them back the way they came before they could voice them. It was when they returned to the coast that Viserys spoke out, being kind and good-natured as always.

“Are they going to be coming with us?”

“Yes. Whoever this little one is, they are of Valyrian descent and speak our true tongue. They will be better suited with us, would you not agree?”

Daemon, who had remained quiet, now seemed interested at the mention of his house’s origin.

“The woman, was she Valyrian as well?”

“Under her current guise.”

“Will you leave her like that?”

“I would not like to. With the state of this one though, likely been in the open for some time, it would be wise to soon return to the Red Keep.”

His father’s words saddened him even though he would not outwardly express it. Anyone of Valyrian blood did not deserve to be left in such a state. At this point exhaustion seemed to take hold of the child as their head now laid in the crook of Baelon’s neck with hooded eyes. It was the type of exhaustion that had their rescuer believing that they would fall into a peaceful slumber. Mere minutes would pass before they finally succumbed and would remain that way top Vhagar for the entirety of the returning voyage, being safely wrapped in comforting arms.

—

Cheers echoed throughout the Great Hall as the young princes entered the epilogue of the festivity, Daemon being overwhelmed with attention as it was him they had all gathered to celebrate and Viserys greeting familiar faces as he followed behind. Baelon remained by the large oak doors and watched as they became one with the crowd before he simply slipped into the shadows behind him with the child that clung tightly to him. Now awake, they no doubt must have felt a similar sense of overwhelment as the guest of honor. This sensation, though, came from being in an unknown place and hearing unknown loud-voiced party goers. Once the two had made their way to a more quiet part of the Red Keep, the tight grip on his tunic loosened. It was a peaceful walk that let the little one's eyes wander and absorb the surrounding embellishments and architecture of their new home. Upon arriving at his chambers, he immediately sent for a handmaid to help in bathing the child as well as the maester.

It started out being difficult in getting the child into the arms of the handmaid that had filled the bath. A trust had not been established which led to this predicament. Only after assuring words in Valyrian by the only present speaker did they finally relent. The next challenge was getting them into the water. Another battle was fought against the woman as she started to remove the soiled garments that were plastered to skin. Whines and grunts of annoyance echoed from both parties within the suite until it finally got to the point where Baleon decided to intervene. He undressed and lowered the child into the water himself before handing over the task to the one meant to perform it. The water slowly began to turn to muck and the beautiful little girl beneath was unveiled. The warmth and scrubbing she received caused a flush to adorn her skin. It took some effort but eventually the black ink rid itself from her true hue of silver locks. She seemed to have warmed up to the handmaid, most likely due to the soft reassuring touches that graced her skin. Those bright Valyrian eyes ventured up from their focus on the water to the kind smile of her bather. A calmness finally settled in and the tenseness of her shoulders melted. After being pulled from the tub reasonably cleaned and wrapped in a blanket to help dry and stave off the cold, the maester finally arrived, effectively undoing her calm disposition. She utterly refused to let him near her, kicking and pushing in his direction to try and get away. Compared to when she first met Baelon, this was a complete turn around in attitude. Yes, she did not originally want to be near the handmaid but she remained passive with no signs of aggression. Perhaps she did not act this way at all towards the Targaryen due to shared similarities between him, herself, and her late mother. Ultimately an assessment, done as quick as feasibly possible, proved no physical ailment.

It could not have been more than an hour later after they initially arrived at his chambers that a quietness filled the room with the maester gone and the child's attention diverted. She was now dressed in suitable sleep wear for a 3 year old and sitting in front of the hearth being fed by the handmaid. Baelon sat with his own plate, gaze set on the serenity before him when a knock came from the door. A knight of the kingsguard entered, announcing the arrival of King Jaehaerys. That had had the king’s own son and the handmaid rise from their respective positions. The maid merely bowed her head before being waved off by the king to continue on with her duty.

“I was informed you came upon a child along your journey.”

“Yes we did.”

“A child you decided in bringing back?”

“She possesses the essence of Old Valyria father.”

The revelation seemed to catch the eldest of the current Targaryen line off guard. Upon hearing about this new resident he was prepared to send them to the servants quarters to be raised and trained as one of them. He was not prepared in deciding the fate of a Valyrian child. His very eyes now laid on said child and was in fact met instantaneously with his son’s finding. Notably he was drawn to her features, most importantly to her eyes. He too was shocked at the discovery. For someone of her descent to be around after the Doom was a miracle. Questions began to flood his mind by just looking. Who was she? Was she the only one left? Where was she hidden all this time? Soon though the questions dissolved as he thought through the situation that brought her here and his shock gave way to acceptance as he moved further into the room to inspect her more. It was a quick acceptance, the same that Baelon had undergone when he himself saw her.

“She will be your responsibility, as if she were one of your own. Understand?”

“I doubted no less.”

“We will discuss as well how to approach her heritage on the morrow.”

“Is that truly the path you want to take with her?”

“By her birthright it would be an injustice to forgo it. We will see it through and in due time she will become who she was meant to be.”

Leaving no room to question, Jaehaerys turned on his heel and departed, for his word was final. Baelon would not disobey. After all, he was the one to rescue her knowing exactly that it would start her down this course. The voice of the handmaiden calling him by his title drew his attention. She stood there with the babe in her arms, her head resting tiredly on the woman’s shoulder as a yawn escaped her.

“Shall I prepare one of the spare chambers for her?”

“No. That will not be necessary. She will stay here for the night. Her permanent place can be dealt with later.”

She simply nodded before he took the child from her. After turning down the sheets and gathering the dining ware, he dismissed her. He was no stranger to tucking a child in without assistance. He had done it many times with his own children after the loss of their mother, wanting to spend a little more of his time with them. They had now grown out of such simple things but the muscle memory remained. He laid her down against his pillow and brought the covers to her chin. She would have the bed to herself as he did not see himself sleeping anyway. His mind would continue to run rampant until he would eventually fall to the embrace of slumber in the armchair he occupied while he merely watched her for most of the night.

Before that would come to pass though, sleepy eyes as they drifted closed would see the tender smile that graced Baelon’s face. Soft clean skin would feel the kind touch he left behind in his movements. This exact moment would become your first memory. The memory that would soon replace everything you knew about the life you had previously. While growing up within the walls of the Red Keep you would know you were not born to this family, but a ward. So, when you would try to recall any of those early memories nothing would come, not a single face nor place. All you would remember is this, the start of your new life. What a life it would turn out to be, for you are the last Valyrian warrior pledged to House Targaryen.

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