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dreamcubed · 2 days

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it's nice to have a friend | theodore nott x reader

song; it's nice to have a friend [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x fem!wallflower!muggle-born!reader genre; s2l, angst, hurt comfort, fluff word count; 7,8k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, reference to incestual rape, anxiety, nightmares, daddy issues, mommy issues, smoking, abusive mother, abusive grandfather, attachment issues, references to theo's mum's death, references to sex summary; elusive and unknown, you slunk along the walls of hogwarts without ever being noticed. that was, until, a boy who everybody knew spotted you

sorry i'm just so obsessed with the idea of a muggle-born who comes back to hogwarts after being in hiding atm

masterlist

"feels like home, stay in bed the whole weekend."

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Who was Y/N L/N?

Many would frown at that question, saying that they had no idea who that was, even if they had shared a vast number of classes with you throughout the years. Some others would pause, and ponder, as the name rung a bell but they just could not put a face to it. The rare few would answer, "Oh, I know her! Never heard her talk though." And that was all there was to it, really.

You had flown under the radar for many years— which had been enormously useful when you had to go into hiding as a muggle-born— but you weren't exactly a nobody. You were the girl at the back of class, who always had a hood over your head, always had dark circles around your eyes: a mixture of eye bags and your smudged days-old black eyeliner. The girl who disappeared after class for a cigarette out of the window of an abandoned part of the castle. The girl who was almost never at meals— at least not at the typical times.

You were an enigma to anyone who actually knew you, which essentially only included your dorm mates. They had tried to befriend you initially, but you were distant and asocial: they were still friendly with you, but they had learned not to push or pry. Thankfully, none of them had taken it personally.

But being so unknown had been incredibly useful while you were in hiding from Voldemort. It was unlikely he knew you existed— nor would anyone he interrogated about existing muggle-borns and their whereabouts. Thus, you returned to Hogwarts after his defeat for the subsidiary eighth year completely unharmed. You hadn't changed at all in the time, apart from a few more piercings, tattoos and freshly dyed hair.

It felt surreal being able to sit on the window sill of your favourite castle smoke spot again, as no matter how little friends you had at Hogwarts, you felt peaceful there. You had missed it sorely.

Taking a drag from your cigarette, you held the harsh smoke within your lungs and gazed at the cloudy view of Scotland, feeling tranquil. That was, until, you heard footsteps, which made you freeze. You internally prayed that it was neither a professor nor a prefect— but this part of the castle was abandoned, and it wasn't even close to curfew yet, so you didn't see how it could be. Cautiously, you peered around as the footsteps came to a halt, to see a Slytherin boy from your year pausing as he caught sight of you with a cigarette in hand.

Theodore Nott. Everyone knew who he was, including you, and because of that you let relief wash over you: he wouldn't snitch, you were pretty sure that he smoked himself.

He tilted his head at you, clearly with no recognition in his eyes.

"This is my smoke spot," he said simply, hands in his pockets. He had discovered the spot the year prior, when his smoking had become a serious habit, partially due to the depressing atmosphere that the war created.

You stared at him, not saying a word.

"Who are you?"

Releasing a sigh, you turned back to face the view, "Y/N L/N. And I came here long before you, Nott."

You felt the burn of his gaze on your back, and then heard him move closer to you until he sat next to you on the large windowsill. "You know who I am."

"We only had classes together for six years."

He seemed to mull over those words for a few moments. "I've never seen you before."

"Not many have," you shrugged, taking another long toke of your cigarette.

Nott didn't have a response for that, instead pulling out his baccy pouch and beginning to roll. You weren't necessarily happy about the intrusion on your alone time, but you didn't own that windowsill, and you weren't about to waste the rest of your cigarette.

Eventually, once he had lit up his own, he spoke again, "You're a muggle-born."

You quirked an eyebrow, which he probably couldn't see under your hood, but he explained how he knew regardless.

"That's why I never saw you here- at this spot- last year."

Nodding in confirmation, you breathed out smoke, watching as it dissipated into the breeze. The two of you settled into silence as you smoked, which you found to be an immense relief. You didn't like talking, you didn't like people knowing things about you. You weren't shy, like your dorm mates thought, you had just learned throughout your life that saying too much had negative consequences.

Finally, your cigarette burned to the filter, and you put it out next to you before flicking it out the window. You stood up and looked at Nott, who was still smoking, unsure of how to end the peculiar interaction.

"I would say you'll see me around, but no one ever does," you finally said, shoving your hands in your pockets and leaving without waiting for a reply. You hadn't said it in an attention-seeking self-pitying way— you had stated it nonchalantly, as it was a fact.

Nott watched you curiously as you disappeared.

***

The next morning, instead of going to breakfast, you went straight to your smoke spot. You never ate in the mornings, it didn't sit right with your stomach. Only, when you climbed the last step to the abandoned tower, you saw that it was already occupied by the same Slytherin from yesterday. His gaze flicked to you as he heard your approach.

As much as you wanted to just turn around and find another smoke spot, you didn't have enough time before your first lesson, and your nicotine addiction needed satiating. So, reluctantly, you took a seat on the windowsill and began rolling as Nott puffed away next to you.

"Good morning," he said as you glided your tongue along the paper.

You glanced up, muttering a, "Morning," before focusing on your cigarette again.

"Are you in my DADA?" he asked.

You gave a curt nod: it was your first lesson back that day.

He hummed absently, putting his cigarette out, but not moving from where he was sat. You said nothing on the matter, hoping to Merlin that he wasn't waiting for you in order to walk to the lesson together.

You began reaching around in your pockets for your lighter, cursing when you couldn't find it. Just as you were about to pull out your wand as a substitute, Nott was holding a lighter out towards you. You narrowed your eyes at him: you used a lighter out of the habit you had developed while living as a muggle the last year, but why would he use one?

As if sensing your confusion, he supplied your answer, "It's more satisfying."

It was strange to see a pure-blood who wasn't against anything and everything muggle, but you accepted his lighter, a strange sensation washing over you as you did so. It felt like you had just made an oath of some sort, agreed to something you didn't know the terms of— like something had now been sealed between the two of you. Pushing that thought aside, you took your first drag, letting the familiar contentment that nicotine provided take over you.

"Thanks," you murmured, handing the lighter back to him.

There was nothing but silence as you smoked, not another word said even as you finished and went to stand up. He stood up, too, and it was then that your fears were confirmed: he was going to walk with you to the lesson. You supposed it was probably just politeness, but Nott had never struck you as someone who cared about that sort of thing. He, like the other Slytherin boys, was known for his quick temper and rude disposition. But for all you knew he could have changed in the year that you were gone.

You didn't ask— you seldom asked questions, no matter how curious you were. Instead, you allowed him to walk alongside you without complaint, subconsciously adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder.

When you reached the classroom without having exchanged a word, Nott's friends— Riddle and Zabini— approached and greeted him. They didn't notice you, which was expected, so you took the opportunity to slink away to your seat at the back of class. You felt Nott's eyes linger on you as you went, but paid no mind to it, refusing to turn around and look at him.

The professor called attention to the room.

"From what I understand, you all made contact with a boggart back in third year," she began, "Obviously it has been sometime, and in order to ease you back into Defence Against the Dark Arts after learning the Dark Arts, I think it would be a good idea to revisit some basics."

There were murmurs of fear and excitement as she pulled forward a cupboard, much like the one from third year.

"Everyone, form a queue," she said, "Do you remember the charm to counteract a boggart?"

Hermione Granger's hand instantly shot up, and the professor gestured for her to answer.

"Riddikulus."

"Excellent!" she smiled, "Let's begin, shall we?"

You had taken a position in the middle of the queue, and watched as the first people faced their fears and turned them into something ridiculous. Laughter began rippling throughout the classroom, and you even felt your lips curving up ever so slightly. But, when it came to your turn, your face went completely solemn.

You watched as what had been a massive snake from the previous person morphed into a reflection of yourself: only, it wasn't you. You would never wear such a glamorous and expensive dress, and you would never have such a wide smile on your face as flashing cameras surrounded you. Clenching your jaw, you watched as boggart-you waved and posed for the cameras, and raised your wand.

"Riddikulus," you murmured, and the scene before you unfolded with boggart-you slipping on a banana peel and tearing her dress. Laughter boomed from behind you, and you quickly walked away to the back of the classroom as the next student had their go.

It wasn't long before it was Nott's turn, and for some reason you found yourself paying more attention than you had before. Your eyes followed his movements as the boggart took the form of an older man, who had a stern look on his face. He seemed familiar, and it only took you a few moments to realise that you had seen him in the Daily Prophet after the war. It was Tiberius Nott, a death eater who had been sent to Azkaban for life after Voldemort's defeat— also Theodore Nott's father.

Nott remained emotionless as he faced his father, refusing to react as he raised his wand and muttered the spell. Then, Tiberius Nott was suddenly wearing clown attire, quickly becoming the next laughingstock of the class. Theodore Nott left the front of the queue and came around to the back where you were while Riddle faced the boggart.

"You're afraid of being popular," he stated as he stood beside you.

"You're afraid of your father," you replied— not as an insult, just as a fact.

"Fathers are terrifying when they're death eaters."

You shrugged, "I don't know mine."

Nott eyed you curiously, as he didn't know what to make of you. Not that anyone really did. Before he could saying else, Riddle was walking towards the both of you. It was of no surprise that he didn't acknowledge you, likely not even noticing you stood there beside his best friend. That was how you liked it, so you moved your attention away from their conversation and watched as Zabini approached the boggart.

When he finished and joined his friends, you heard Riddle ask, "Wanna go for a fag after this?"

Nott agreed easily, whereas Zabini declined.

"L/N," your eyes widened, and you snapped your head in Nott's direction, "You coming?"

"Coming where?" you knew what they were talking about.

"For a smoke," Nott tilted his head towards the door, "After this lesson."

You watched in horror as Riddle and Zabini's eyes settled on you in confusion and lack of recognition, despite the fact a celebrity version of you had just been displayed to the whole class. But, you supposed, celebrity you didn't resemble your natural state all that much.

"No, thanks."

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if he believed that you would definitely be going for a cigarette after the lesson, just not with the Slytherin boys.

The professor called for everyone to sit down as the last person finished with the boggart, and as the three boys walked away from you, you heard Riddle mutter, "Who the fuck is that?" to his friends. With a sigh, you took your seat and got out some parchment, hoping that the interaction wouldn't be the trigger for everyone in the school knowing who you were.

But, had you ever been lucky?

***

It horrified you how easily Nott could spot you in a crowd, as it wasn't something you were used to— in fact, it was something that you had purposefully avoided. But that was no more, as when you entered the Great Hall for dinner, at the usual time as everyone else for once (your hunger had dictated that), he had made eye contact with you and gestured for you to come sit with him. Immediately, you shook your head: you weren't there to make friends, and you weren't about to sit on the Slytherin table as a muggle-born.

When his friends turned to see who he was beckoning over, they scanned the area you were in without their eyes ever landing on you. Not even Zabini or Riddle, who had seen you the other day, noticed you stood by the entrance. So, why was Nott different?

You took the opportunity to take a seat at the Ravenclaw table with your back to the Slytherins, not wanting to further engage. You had experienced more than enough socialisation for a lifetime in the last week, in your opinion. It was probably at least once every couple of days that you happened to venture to the tower smoke spot at the same time as Nott, and part of you wanted to find a new place. Alas, you had developed an attachment to that tower, and the views were remarkably soothing, so you hadn't.

It was why you didn't bother to move when Nott arrived to see you sat on the window sill that evening, after you had disregarded him at dinner.

"Are you really so scared of making friends?" he asked from behind you.

"Why do you care?" you scoffed.

"You intrigue me."

"Forget about me, Nott. I prefer it that way."

He chuckled, "I think forgetting you is impossible."

You clenched your fist, "Why would you want to associate with a mudblood?"

"I don't give a shit about blood purity, L/N," he said, accidentally dropping his lighter. You heard him curse under his breath in Italian, before looking at you again. "Can I ask why?"

"Why what?" you grumbled, taking a puff from your cigarette.

"Why do you keep to yourself?"

You assessed his intentions cautiously, debating how much information you should give him. Eventually, all you said was, "Saying too much has consequences. If people know too much about you, they use it against you."

"Who's they?"

"Everyone."

He shook his head, "But, it's not, though, is it? Who gave you such a warped perception of reality?"

"It may not be your reality, but it's mine."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Why should I tell you?"

Nott shrugged, "I'm just trying to understand you."

"Well, stop trying."

"I won't," he said simply, "But if you're worried about me having something on you, I'll tell you about me so we're even."

"Please don't."

"My mother died when I was quite young," he began, against your will, "Which left me to my father, who you are familiar with."

"Are you looking for pity?"

"No, I don't want your pity," he scowled, "I told you why I'm telling you. Stop being dense."

You frowned at his words.

"Where my mother was sweet and loving, my father was anything but," he explained, "Physically abusive, literally a death eater, punished me if I ever cried."

You focused your eyes on to your cigarette, ashing it with a tap of your finger.

"I won't let him dictate my life. No matter how much I feel like I'm just as bad as him, I can't let it get in the way of having friends and a decent life."

"You're not your father," you said quietly, unsure as to why you were still entertaining this conversation.

"How would you know?"

"Because you're talking to me."

He hummed softly, "So, there, you know about me. You know something I hardly even talk about with my closest friends. Tell me about you."

You thought about it for a couple minutes, mulling over whether or not you should finally share what has hung over you your entire life. Nott remained silent as you finished your cigarette and fought an internal war within yourself. Eventually, you spoke.

"My grandfather abused me when I was young," you said quietly, "Whenever he visited, whenever I went 'round to his. In the night, he would come into my room and-" you cut yourself off.

Nott said nothing, regarding you cautiously.

"He told me not to tell. Not to say a word," you finally continued, "But I told my mum one day, because I was bleeding..." you gestured down to your crotch.

"She didn't believe you?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You chuckled, "Of course not. I tried to ask her to look, to prove that I was bleeding. She wouldn't. Said her father would never do such a thing."

"Sounds like denial."

"I'd bet my life he did the same to her when she was young, and she's blocked it out. That seeing it on me would have brought back memories that she's so desperately shut out."

He nodded.

"She told my grandfather what I'd accused him of, and my life became hell right until I got the letter inviting me to Hogwarts."

"And that's why you think telling people anything is a bad idea."

With a sigh, you stood up, "All honesty and closeness brought me was pain and suffering."

"You've just been honest with me."

"Rowena knows why," you muttered.

"You can't let him haunt you forever."

"He's still alive," you said simply, pinning your eyes on to his face, "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

And, strangely, you believed him.

***

After trusting Nott with your life story, you had found a new smoke spot: it didn't have the views or tranquility of the abandoned tower, but it didn't have anyone else either. You saw him in class, and occasionally at meals, and he would always lock eyes with you and give a nod as greeting. Sometimes you returned it, sometimes you didn't. But before long, a couple months had passed, and you were quite secure in the knowledge that he hadn't told anyone your secret nor was he going to use it against you.

You didn't hesitate in signing up to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, not wanting to face your family. When Voldemort's return had been confirmed, both your mother and grandfather— as your apparent two closest relatives— had been obliviated and sent abroad. Once he was defeated, they were found and given back their memories of you, but you hadn't gone to see them. Instead, you had stayed at Hogwarts over the Summer, helping to rebuild what had been destroyed during the battle. And now, you weren't sure if you could ever go back home. You hadn't seen either of them in years, and had become quite content with the lack of danger over the Summer holidays.

It was the first day of the castle being almost empty, and you made your way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Only one of the house tables was laid with food: the Gryffindor one. It would have been a waste to lay any more tables with so few students present.

You noticed that Nott was sat at the table, and when he saw you enter (the only one who saw you, that was), he gestured for you to sit near him. Maybe it was because he wasn't surrounded by his friends this time, or maybe it was because the food was only on one small section of the table, but you sat opposite him.

"How've you been?" he immediately asked.

Shrugging, you put some sandwiches on your plate, "Same as always."

"You stopped coming to the tower."

You sighed, "I like to smoke alone."

He pursed his lips, but changed the subject, "What are you doing on Christmas day?"

An incredulous look swept across your face, "Same as everyone here."

Nott rolled his eyes, "Even the people who are here open gifts with each other."

"I doubt I'll get any gifts."

"That makes two of us," he replied, "Do you want to do something on Christmas day together?"

"Why?" you frowned at him, "Surely Riddle is here."

He shook his head, "He spends Christmas with the Malfoys. They're cousins, y'know." At your raised eyebrow, he added, "On his mum's side."

"Regardless, I told you I'm not interested in friends."

"There is no obligation of friendship here," he raised his hands up in mock surrender, "You can never talk to me again after these holidays."

Taking in a deep breath, you said, "Fine."

He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice how soft and non-threatening he looked with such an expression. It was a rare sight on him.

***

Apparently he had taken your agreement to spend Christmas day with him as an agreement to spend the entire holidays together. Nott joined you for studying in the library, and followed you to your new smoke spot, making you sigh and decide at that point you might as well return to your preferred abandoned tower. He didn't talk a lot of the time, just sat in companionship with you, and you found yourself getting irritated. Not at him, but at the fact you were beginning to feel comfortable in his presence, and experience the urge to seek him out on occasion. It was a foreign feeling: one that you had never allowed yourself to come close to.

But you weren't sure if you wanted to stop it any longer.

The bubble you had become wrapped up in shattered one day when Professor McGonagall, the headmistress, found you in the library and informed you that you had visitors. You looked worriedly over at Nott, realising that for the first time in your life, you didn't want to face a situation alone. Because you had a sneaking suspicion of who it might be.

You stood up, and Nott did too. For once, you were grateful that he was following you around without your permission. McGonagall assessed that you were okay with him coming along, and led the both of you to her office, where you found yourself fidgeting with your fingers as the stairs rose up. Nott placed his hand on yours and squeezed gently before pulling away again, an action so soft and without malice that you damn near broke down on the spot.

Moments later, your fears were confirmed: your mother and grandfather stood before you. They had smiles on their faces, but they looked so forced that you felt sick to your stomach. Subconsciously, you shifted closer to Nott, who had straightened his back and let his typical resting bitch face fall upon him— one of arrogance and threat. McGonagall hadn't come in with you, saying that they wanted to speak with you alone. That was when you had said that Nott was going in with you or you weren't going in.

"Y/N, it's been so long, darling," your mother spoke, making bile rise to your mouth. You swallowed quickly, not returning her smile.

"Why didn't you come home for Christmas?" your grandfather asked, taking a step towards you. Instinctively, you stepped back. He paused and frowned, "We haven't seen you in years, but it's finally safe, is it not?"

It's never safe with you. That's what you wanted to scream, but no words came out.

"We've missed you," your mother added, also taking a step forward. You felt so small in front of them, like you were once again that heartbroken six year old who had just discovered that no one was there for her.

"And who's this?" your grandfather asked, surveying Nott cautiously.

"Theodore Nott," the boy replied through gritted teeth.

"Is this your-?"

You cut your mother off by asking, "Why are you here?"

"We've come to take you home," your grandfather said with a grin that was clearly meant to appear jovial, but to you symbolised the devil's incarnate.

"No," you said as firmly as you could, but your tone held a quiver.

The smile dropped from your grandfather's face, and he turned to Nott once more, "May we have a moment alone?"

"Not a chance," the boy instantly replied, crossing his arms. He was a lot taller than your grandfather.

That was when the eyes of your grandfather darkened to their usual state, and your mother's mouth settled into a grim line.

"I don't know what she's told you," the former spoke, "But none of it is true, she was a very imaginative child-"

Nott cut him off with a scoff, "No child who's had a normal childhood imagines such fucked up things."

Your eyes widened in disbelief at Theo's (when had you started thinking of him as Theo?) bluntness.

"My father would never do such a thing," your mother immediately cut in, "These allegations are extreme and unjust."

"I'm not coming home with you," you said, changing the subject.

"I am your mother," she said curtly, "And you are my child."

"I am an adult now."

You watched as she took a deep breath, "Y/N, we are family. Christmas is for family."

"I never want to see either of you again," you said quietly, your voice feeling separate from your body.

"We should have never let her go here," your grandfather said to your mother, "Her delusions have only been fed."

"The only delusions around here are yours," Theo said sternly, "I think it's best that you leave."

"This is none of your business, boy," the old man before you growled, taking strides towards him. In a flash, Theo had pulled out his wand and held it towards him, causing him to back up out of fear.

"I'd watch your mouth, if I were you. Y/N's welfare is every bit my business as it was meant to be yours."

Your relatives said nothing.

"I believe that everything that needed to be said has been said," he continued, "So we will be leaving. If you try to contact her in any way, shape or form again, I won't hesitate to use dark magic on you."

And with that, Theo wrapped his free arm around you and guided you back to the exit. Only once the door behind you was closed and the stairs were lowering did you realise that your entire body was trembling. All you could think to do was murmur a "thank you" towards Theo, who stroked your arm gently.

Once you reached the bottom, you were faced with McGonagall, who had a deathly serious look about her. You broke down, collapsing to the floor as tears and sobs that you had suppressed for years bubbled to the surface and shook your body violently.

"Get them out of here," Theo said to her, crouching down beside you and taking you into his arms. You accepted the embrace, having not felt one in years, and cried into his chest.

The headmistress nodded, scanning over you one last time.

"I'll take care of her," Theo muttered, and that was all the woman needed to head up the stairs with a look of fury that could ignite nations. You didn't know what she had made of the situation, but she had evidently decided that she didn't like your family. "C'mon," he murmured, helping you up and guiding you in a direction you were too bleary-eyed to register.

Your sobs escalated as the two of you walked, and finally you realised that you were heading down to the dungeons. You heard him say the password to the door before you were led into the Slytherin common room of black and green. He didn't stop there, however, instead taking you down further stairs to where the dormitories were.

It wasn't long before you found yourself curled up on his bed, the other beds in the dorm vacant for Christmas. You rocked back and forth, gripping your knees tightly.

Theo shushed you softly, sitting next to you and pulling you into his side.

"It's okay, angel, you're safe now," he whispered, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"You-" you hiccuped, "-promise?"

"I promise. You never have to see them again."

"P- Pinkie promise?" you held up your pinkie to him, and that was when Theo saw in your eyes that a part of you had never grown out of infancy.

He kissed your head, hooking his finger around yours, "Pinkie promise."

***

Numerous nightmares followed after that day— flashbacks and memories that you had blocked out catching up to you and forcing you to re-live it all. The first night, you pushed through, staying awake after waking yourself up and sobbing under your sheets until the sun came up. You didn't tell Theo why you were so exhausted when he questioned it, showing concern for you, as you didn't want to worry him. But, the second night, when you nervously drifted off and your demons returned, you snapped awake only wanting Theo.

With tears streaming down your face, you crawled out of bed and pulled on your Ravenclaw jersey, before creeping down the dormitory stairs and into the common room. There weren't many people that you could have woken up, but you really didn't want anyone seeing you in your current state. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the tower door and left, ignoring the statue's questions of where you were headed.

It was a long trip to the Slytherin dungeons from the Ravenclaw tower, and you almost ran into Filch— luckily, you heard him from around the corner and hurriedly went a different direction. Since you were only wearing socks, your footsteps were soundless.

When you reached the portrait into Slytherin, you paused for a moment as you prayed that the password hadn't changed since he took you there two days prior. "Sonoros," you murmured to the painting, which gave you a disapproving look but reluctantly opened the door for you to enter. You scurried in, relieved to see no one was in the common room, and made your way up to the boys' dormitories. When you landed on the eighth years' floor, you pushed open the door and padded over to Theo's bed.

He was sleeping deeply, his remarkably attractive face almost glowing in the moonlight. The sight of someone sleeping reminded you of your night terrors, and more sobs choked out of you, causing you to lurch forward and shake Theo.

"Hmmph?" he grumbled, forcing his eyes open. When he saw you stood beside his bed with puffy cheeks and shaking limbs, he jolted awake. "Principessa, what happened?"

"I had a-" you hiccuped, "-a nightmare."

His gaze softened, and he lifted up the forest green bedsheets to beckon you in. Obliging, you curled up against his warmth and nuzzled your face into his neck. He didn't ask what you dreamt of, instead asking, "Is this why you didn't sleep last night?"

You nodded against him, and he sighed.

"You should have told me," he mumbled, stroking his hand through your hair. And then he talked you softly into a sweet dreamless sleep wrapped in his embrace, feeling safer than you had ever before felt.

***

At dinner the next day, Theo observed you as you picked at your food, clearly nervous about what that night had in store for you.

"Do you want to stay with me again tonight?" he asked, a question which made your eyes open wide.

"Uh..."

"You can stay with me all holiday, if you'd like."

"I..." your instinctive response was to put up your defences, and distance yourself from proximity with any individual. But, you felt the words of rejection get caught in your throat, and realised that there was a new instinct within you fighting with the old one. The part that was attaching itself to Theo, and firming itself into an iron grip that wouldn't let go now that it had finally found something to grasp on to. As the man in question gazed into your eyes, trying to read your body language, you realised that a suppressed part of you had surfaced— and you weren't sure that it could be locked away ever again. "Yes, please," were the words that finally came out: they were quiet, and felt foreign, but they were all you had to offer.

He gave you a soft smile: not the devilish smirk you had seen him give other girls from a distance, seen him use whenever he won a fight. No, it was genuine, with teeth and all. You were smiling back before you could stop yourself.

Theo eyed you curiously, "I've never seen you smile before."

Your breath hitched, "I'm not sure I've ever smiled before."

***

What commenced was a domestic routine. You kept pyjamas and some clothes in Theo's dorm, and you would brush your teeth together. Then, you would get into his bed, waiting until he beckoned for you to curl up to him. At first, you had been awkward about it, but it quickly became an instantaneous act of muscle memory. Theo felt and smelt like home— home. You had never felt at home before, and you certainly had never expected it to be with a person rather than a place. For the longest time, you had assumed that home would be the place you got for yourself after finishing Hogwarts.

Christmas Day started with a snowstorm in the middle of the night, one that had you waking up at dawn to see the layers of white outside the window. The holiday had never been a good day for you: mainly one of loneliness and a lack of gifts. You weren't materialistic, you didn't care about the presents, but that didn't mean you weren't envious of everyone going home to loving families.

But, that Christmas, you awoke in the warmth of Theo's arms, with a sense of peacefulness fulfilling you. His gentle breathing soothed you as he hugged you from behind, and for a while you remained like that, looking out the window at the snow and relishing in Theo's presence. When had he crept his way through your barriers? When had you started allowing it to happen?

"Buon Natale, principessa," you eventually heard him say from behind you, his deep morning voice sending a shiver up your spine.

"Buon Natale," you mimicked, making him smile into your neck.

"That means Merry Christmas," he murmured.

You chuckled softly, "I figured."

"I got something for you," he said, rolling on to his back, which made you turn over to face him.

"You did?"

He hummed, "It's nothing big."

"I got something for you too," you replied, knowing that there was a vinyl sat in your satchel across the room, which you had put in there on an offhand thought that Theo might like it.

"Should we exchange presents before or after Christmas dinner?"

"Before," you said immediately, "I haven't opened a present in years. I'm not waiting any longer."

"Okay, but can we stay in bed a little longer? È così caldo."

Those terms you could easily agree to— even finding yourself smiling fondly at his Italian. It always slipped out more when he was sleepy.

When had you come to know his habits so well?

***

"Merry Christmas," Theo grinned, handing a large velvet box to you as you sat cross-legged on his bed.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously, carefully popping open the lid only to have your breath taken away. A white gold necklace rested before you, with blue sapphires shining on the pendant that hung from it.

At your speechlessness, Theo explained, "It was my mother's. I thought you should have it."

"I can't take this," you said quickly, "It's a family heirloom."

He shrugged, "Then consider yourself as keeping it safe until I have a daughter."

"Is this your way of ensuring I stick around?" you chuckled.

"Maybe. Is that bad?"

You shook your head, "Thank you. It's so pretty— puts my gift to shame."

"Cara mia, it is not about the cost."

With a sigh, you got up and went over to your satchel, pulling out the vinyl that you had treasured and loved for so many years. "It's not much, but I thought you might like it."

You handed the album to him.

"What is it?"

"It is a vinyl. What muggles play music from."

His lips parted in understanding. "You will have to teach me how to use it."

"I will," you agreed, feeling like what you had actually agreed to was being around forever.

"Thank you," he said, "Would you like to try the necklace on?"

"When I'm dressed. I must do it justice."

Theo chuckled.

***

One thing you had to admit was that Theo's dead eyes sent a shiver up your spine: you felt it as he put the necklace on you, his warm hands a contrast to the cold of the metal as he did up the clasp. You were dressed up for Christmas dinner— not impressively so, but nicer than you normally did. For once, you had foregone your hoodie, and properly cleansed your face of your makeup before doing it again. Maybe the motivation for it had been Theo in the room, but ultimately, you felt quite calm.

"Sei bella," he murmured, and you knew enough Italian to know what bella meant.

You suppressed a smile, admiring his attire of dress trousers and a shirt. He lacked a tie, and the top buttons were undone— topped with his rolled up sleeves, he looked divine.

"Let's hope the dinner isn't too boring," he chuckled, "But, either way, we can have a smoke after."

"Sounds like heaven," you said, turning around to look up at his gorgeous face. A few weeks ago, you would never have let yourself find someone attractive: in your head that was as good as an attachment to someone. Yet, here you were, knowing that your soul had grasped on to Theo's and would never let go. You still had your hesitancies, but they were being overrode by your intense craving for affection.

"Should we go down?" you asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

He hummed, "Just one more thing."

"What?"

His thumb and pointer finger delicately touched your chin, and your blood pressure skyrocketed when he leant down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "I couldn't resist."

You were rendered speechless— was that what a kiss was supposed to feel like? Magical, willing, heart-fluttering?

"Shall we, amore mio?"

"We shall," you smiled, accepting his extended hand.

***

The dinner was as boring as Theo had predicted, with the expected speech from McGonagall and then everyone falling into separate conversations. However, the delicious food was the saving grace, and you ate more than your stomach could handle, as well as drank a few glasses of red wine which had been provided for the professors and the adult students.

But, the highlight of your day was when you and Theo smoked in the usual tower spot, remaining in a soothing silence as you watched the snow fall.

"Can we build a snowman?" you asked, putting out your butt on the stone wall.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, "Why?"

"I've never built one," you muttered, wanting to rekindle the childhood joy that you had never truly experienced.

"Well, then, I hope you've got thick gloves."

***

"He's so ugly," you commented, staring at the snowman before you. He had a carrot on his face, courtesy of the kitchen, and a variety of stones creating a disturbingly fake happy expression. You turned around to where Theo had been stood next to you, only to see that he was gone. "Theo?" you called out, spinning around to find him when you felt a thud of something against your back.

When you looked in the direction of the throw, you saw the man you had been looking for laughing and gathering up snow into a ball.

"You son of a bitch," you cursed, leaning down and accumulating some snow of your own. Immediately you let fire, hitting him right in the chest.

"Oh, it's on!" he shouted back— the trigger for ten minutes running around and hurtling snow at each other until you tripped. Only, you found yourself laughing as you hit the ground, flopping into a starfish position as Theo dashed over to you. "Are you okay, principessa?"

You sat up and tugged on his leg, making him topple over too. "I'm perfectly okay."

"Clearly," he groaned, propping himself up on one arm to gaze at you.

"I think I won this one."

Theo rolled his eyes, "If my lips weren't so numb, I'd kiss you right now."

Your lips parted in shock, making him laugh.

"And I won that one," he said, "Can we go inside before we freeze, please?"

And when you and Theo were cuddled up in front of the fire with hot cups of tea, you knew that your isolated life was no more, and you had almost fully let go of your reservations about forming attachments.

***

Bliss can only last so long, of course, and the horde of students returned early January with their trunks and chatter in tow. You reluctantly returned to your Ravenclaw dormitory, knowing sleep would be difficult after growing accustomed to the comfort of Theo's arms.

But you had no choice.

Still, as you walked down the hallways alone for the first time in two weeks, your hood over your head and eyes cast down, you felt lonely. You had never felt lonely before— well, maybe in part. But your fear of knowing someone and being close had overrode the loneliness: your phobia of being hurt again had made you view loneliness as a comfort. It didn't feel like a comfort any longer, not now that you had tasted Theodore Nott and all that came with him. Not now that he had shown you good intentions and security.

"Y/N!" you heard a call from behind you.

You spun around, feeling a smile tug on your lips as you recognised the voice. That was another thing Theo had brought you: smiles that came naturally, like a flower blooming because it had been nurtured and nourished to perfection, not in spite of its environment.

"There you are, principessa," he murmured, pulling you into his embrace, "I haven't seen you since last night."

"It's not that long," you shrugged, but you had missed him too.

"Too long," he said, taking your hand in his, "I could hardly sleep without you. Kept worrying about your nightmares."

Your face dropped, and that told Theo everything he needed to know.

"You had one, didn't you?"

With a dismissive nod, you turned and began walking down the corridor with him, "It was nothing. I'm fine."

"You promise you'd tell me if you weren't?"

"I'm always fine when I'm with you," you said quietly, "I wasn't fine last night, or this morning, but now you're here— I'm fine."

His eyes softened at your words, and he squeezed your hand. "Let's get some lunch."

***

When you entered the Great Hall, you felt Theo tugging you over to the Slytherin table where his friends were gathered. You swallowed your anxiety and shifted closer to him, deciding that as long as you had Theo as protection, these people couldn't hurt you.

They didn't notice either of you until you sat down.

"Theo! Where have you been?" Mattheo Riddle asked, his eyes then flicking to you, "Oh, it's you again... L/N, right?"

You nodded the affirmative.

"Who?" the girl next to him, Pansy Parkinson, asked.

"The girl Theo's been courting."

"I didn't know Theo was courting anyone," Lorenzo Berkshire frowned.

"Are you in the year below?" Pansy turned to you.

"No. I'm in your year."

Her eyes widened, "Salazar, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," you said. And, really, it was. You were used to it.

"Are you official, then?" Mattheo questioned, changing the subject effectively.

"Yes," Theo replied, before you could even process what Mattheo had just asked.

"Never thought I'd see the day where you settled down," Blaise Zabini chuckled.

"Just hadn't met the right girl yet."

Your heart flipped.

***

"Sorry about that earlier," Theo said to you later at the smoke spot, "I figured it was the only way to not make the situation awkward."

"Sorry about what?"

"Saying we're official."

"Oh."

Theo quirked an eyebrow, "Unless you're not sorry?"

You pursed your lips, "Maybe I'm not."

He grinned, "Then allow me to ask you officially, cara mia, will you be my girlfriend?"

"I want to," you took a deep breath, "But, I just— certain things are going to take some time for me. I— I will need easing into things like, uh..."

"Sex?" he finished for you.

Shamefully, you bobbed your head.

"Of course, we will take all the time you need," he smiled, moving closer to you to place a hand on your cheek, "I'm not in it for the sex. I'm in it because ti amo."

"I think I love you too."

"I'm here for you always, amore mio. I promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

"Pinkie promise."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 04/05/2024 —> 22/05/2024 published; 26/05/2024 edited; —/—/——

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shipmansflannels · 1 day

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in the heights | natalie scatorccio x reader

hey! I'm back! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, really. but I'm happy with the engagement and the new followers here on the blog, welcome everyone and I hope you like my stories below. I haven't made the masterlist yet, but as soon as I do, I'll pin it to organize it better. this first oneshot is super cute, I hope you like it. I'm also not going to open requests for now, but I'll leave my ask open in case you want to send me messages and interact through it too! thanks for following along! enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

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in the heights | natalie scatorccio x reader

-> prompt: you and natalie at a ferris wheel. but it gets stuck. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, natalie having a soft side, a lot of swear words, very cliché and gay.

***

"I already told you I don't want to go. That's for children."

You laugh, watching Natalie blow out the last of her cigarette and use her worn-out sneakers to crush it on the floor. The two of you are leaning against a street light, but you're more focused on the popcorn that's almost gone and the noise of the kids screaming behind you, enjoying the huge roller coaster, or the carousel, or yelling for their mom to buy more tokens to hit the clown's mouth and win a damn stuffed bear.

It's your last year before heading off to college, but you're not old enough to enjoy the rare amusement park event when the mayor is in a good mood, which is why you make a point of not only inviting Natalie, but the rest of the girls on the team.

The difference is that you're not as close to them as you are to the platinum blonde who's snorting as she's being bumped into by a four-foot-tall boy who's running after another boy whose height you haven't yet identified.

"Oh, please, it's just going to be a single ride. I really want to see the city from up there", you insist, using your best whining voice, to try to convince Natalie to join you on the ferris wheel. She rolls her eyes as you shove another handful of popcorn into your mouth. "Then we can go on the ghost train, since you want to be that frightened."

"You know I hate the ferris wheel, (Y\N), no way."

Natalie was always closed off about her feelings and desires - and unless it had to do with addictions, cigarettes and drugs, you'd never guess any of the things she was passionate about. Of course, you knew about her problems with her father, her terrible relationship with her mother and how much she wanted to buy a trailer in the park closest to her school so she wouldn't have to live with this nightmare again, but otherwise, none of Natalie's fears were obvious to you.

So it was fun to hear her complain, in her usual grumpy mood, about how she hated rides on the ferris wheel.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried once more. "One ride, I promise. I'll give you one of my cigarettes later, don't worry."

Natalie huffed again, rolling her eyes at you, and put her lighter in the pocket of her old moss green jacket before walking over to you.

"Just a ride and then it's over. It's not a question."

You nodded, shrugging and swallowing hard, before starting to walk beside her. Oh, one more thing about Natalie that you knew since you met her: she hated holding hands.

***

"I swear I'm going to kill you. It seems like a good thing to push you from the highest point, don't you think?"

Natalie proposed, whispering through clenched teeth as the ferris wheel monitor buckled you up and closed the cabin. There was a noise in the background, coming from other laughing children and families in the cabins behind, so Natalie had to get a little closer to you to whisper in your direction.

"Ah, come on, it's going to be fun!", you murmured, in your usual joy, looking to the side and enjoying the view of the park before the ride started to rise. "But if you feel unwell, I can ask the monitor to stop first and come down."

"It is not necessary."

She murmured, taking a deep breath, and you felt like there was too much air gathering in Natalie's lungs. With your free arm, you passed it over the cabin, around the platinum blonde, in an attempt to comfort her. It didn't help, but you were sure you saw her lined eyes relax a little.

And then, the ride began. The families behind you screamed loudly when the cabins started to rise a little, and then they started laughing when theirs stopped in the air and slowly descended, giving a good view of the city from up there.

You looked away again at the huge windows and the landscape, even though you weren't so high up. It felt good to reassure Natalie at that moment, her fear feeling like it was going to leave her body and hover like a cloud of dust above your heads.

"Are you okay?"

"Absolutely."

You laughed, making a mental note and finding it amusing that Natalie always used colloquial language when she was scared. Suddenly, she looked down, and her clear eyes widened again.

"Holy shit! Why are there two guys down there? And why does it look like they're arguing? Oh, God, don't tell me we-"

You looked down, just to see where she was looking, and then, suddenly, the voices of the families became clearer, as if they purposefully escaped from the windows of the cabins straight into yours. "we're stuck!" "it looks like the toy broke!" "damn, bunch of irresponsible people!" "I want my fucking money back!" "get that fucking toy down soon, buddy!"

Gritting your teeth, you looked at Natalie, and you were sure that she had heard at least half of the whispers, or, well, at best - and probably the most terrible - she had enough intelligence to figure out what had just happened on her own. to happen.

"Fuck me," she muttered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Once, twice, three times. And then, you grabbed her with your free arm by the collar of her shirt, the back collar.

"Calm down, it's just a quick stop, it's supposed to give more excitement. Soon the ferris wheel comes back, just try to breathe", you whispered, and obviously it didn't help at all.

"I'm not five anymore, (Y\N). Don't act like you're my fucking parents."

"Hey, don't freak out, it won't help…", you clicked your tongue. "Well, how about if we just try to distract ourselves while the toy doesn't come back? Make small talk? There are some things going on that you haven't told me yet, right?"

You don't know how this caught Natalie's attention, but you saw that her face had returned to its usual paleness, and that she had raised an eyebrow in your direction.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, the most obvious. You and Travis Martinez, what else?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not what you think. He's just my friend. Just like you are too."

Ouch, that one hurt. It would have affected you more, of course, if you had even had feelings for Natalie, but obviously you had nothing more than a friendly affection for her, and in truth, her and Travis' sudden closeness wasn't bothering you in the slightest. in an unhealthy way…

Absolutely not. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Just friends? Oh, sure, like, okay then…" You took another deep breath, and then blushed when you saw her raised eyebrow again. "It's just, like, he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would hang out with our gang…"

"You mean he doesn't look like a rebellious kid?" Natalie scoffed, biting her lip and looking away from you. "Yeah, I mean, you'd be surprised by some things about him."

"And how come you know so much, huh?"

She pursed her lips. You had used an intonation that definitely wasn't as ironic as you thought it would be, and in fact, maybe that would have surprised Natalie. You were about to open your mouth to apologize, when she spoke first, her eyes fixed on you and that cheeky smile that only she knew how to give.

"Damn, I didn't know you were that possessive, (Y\N)…"

It was your turn to roll your eyes.

"And I'm not. I don't give a shit about your circle of friends, okay?"

"It's not what it looks like…"

"Okay, let's change the subject…", you pursed your lips too, looking away. "Did you buy the hair dye? Your roots are turning black again…"

She nodded, but that sleazy smile was still on her lips as she looked the other way. In fact, it only disappeared when she realized that you guys weren't coming back down, and that it would probably take hours to do so.

"This shit's never going down again, is it? What the fuck…"

You laughed, looking at her again and shaking your head. "You know, if you're so scared, you can hold my hand. I won't bite you unless you ask me to."

Natalie rolled her eyes again, looking at you with closed eyes. She hated vulnerability, especially when it was her own. Her hand slid across the space in the seat that separated the two of you in the cabin, and then, her fingers caught yours, lightly, as if they were magnets attracting each other.

"If you tell anyone tomorrow, I'll kill you," she whispered, her teeth clenched and her gaze still very serious. That made you laugh and eased the blush on your cheeks a little.

Suddenly, like an answer to her silent prayer, the cabin gave a sharp start and threatened to descend. This caused Natalie's already trembling and vulnerable body, barely secured in the seat belt, to fall until it reached your arms. You held her just in case, but she made sure to lean on your waist to straighten herself up again.

"Oh, God, I think I'm going to throw up," she murmured, returning to the fear inside her. You watched her and, in a rush, had an idea that might help. Well, it helped you with your now rare panic attacks before a decisive test in class.

Instinctively, you grabbed her cheek, pressing your faces together at a considerable distance. Her eyes were on you, but specifically at the level of your nose, and she seemed shocked by your unexpected attitude.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, she whispered, her lips barely moving.

"I'm trying to take your focus away. Pay attention to other things, don't fucking look down," you replied, your tone as neutral as possible, your eyes focused on her. But your closeness was incredibly suspicious and, even if you denied it, it took away some of the attention that should have been hers. Clearing your throat, you whispered again. "Do you feel better?"

Natalie didn't answered. She closed her clear eyes and took another deep breath, swallowing hard. And then, her pale, calloused hands touched your shoulder. At first, it seemed like an attempt to push you away, but then, suddenly, when she unexpectedly pressed your lips together, you understood everything.

Responding to the kiss as best you could, terrified that it would be clumsy, you let your mind wander to the darkest parts, and you also understood that you always wanted, deep down, for this moment to happen. And then, after minutes of the wind in your hair and your body getting hot with the blood bubbling almost to your head, Natalie finally did what she normally would do, using the grip on your shoulders to pull you away from her.

"Fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, trying to apologize. And suddenly, she fixed it. "I mean, maybe it was, but not like this. I guess I was just a little… too vulnerable, my bad."

You laughed, blushing once more before holding her hand again, this time placing your palm on hers.

"It's okay to be vulnerable sometimes. You look cute with that soft side," you whispered, nodding. "Well, not like that…"

"Don't be stupid, of course it's like that," she murmured, raising her eyebrow. "Okay, I'm not going to punch you in the face because you kissed me and because you have feelings for me."

"For the record, you were the one who kissed me."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, fuck. Nobody cares."

Suddenly, the ferris wheel gave another start and, finally, with the screams of satisfaction from all the families who were still waiting up there, it started working normally again. Natalie sighed, still holding your hand in hers, and you smiled, relieved, looking away.

"Just promise me one thing, (Y\N)?"

"Anything, Nat."

"That you won't tell anyone that we kissed-"

"That you kissed me."

"Whatever! Don't tell anyone, do you hear me? Or I'll change my mind and punch you in the face, yes."

You laughed before pulling her closer with your free hand, by her chin, and kissing her once more. "Don't worry. It'll just be our little secret for now."

#lgbt #natalie scatorccio x reader #sophie thatcher x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #oneshot #i love soft nat #is it too cliche #my bad i just needed to write some of this

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couldsewyouastitchandsavenine · 15 hours

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Burn [Joel Miller]

this is my entry to Em's On Repeat Drabble Challenge by @dancingtotuyo. thank you so much for letting me be part of this and I am sorry for this took so long—life kinda got in the way—anyway, thanks for introducing me to Zach Bryan and for doing this amazing challenge.

Inspired by Burn, Burn, Burn by Zach Bryan

pairing: joel miller x reader

wordcount: 1K

warnings: none really

Joel Miller hasn’t let himself feel anything for a long while—not like this.

For years he’s been a fortress of solitude—feelings locked away, emotions a luxury he couldn’t afford. Yet, in the midst of the chaos and the infected, moments slipped through—fragments that caught him off guard. Moments that reminded him he was still human, with a heart capable of beating.

Moments that often revolved around you.

When he met you, Joel wasn’t on a quest for companionship nor was he seeking an ally. Yet, there you were, bathed in the early spring mist—your presence painted with a brush of quiet desperation he knew all too well. Bruised and with a limp, you had asked him for help. And for some goddamn reason he couldn’t—wouldn’t—send you away.

Thus, you stayed, just long enough to recover, or so the plan went.

But plans, in times like these, are as fickle as a sudden summer breeze rustling the treetops.

Joel quickly learned that you were resourceful, observant, unassuming, and quiet on your feet, yet spectacularly precise with a rifle—a skill he discovered only days later when you came to his aid.

Since then, the two of you had faced near-death scrapes, saving each other’s lives more times than he cared to count in the short span you’ve traversed the landscapes together. This proximity, this forced closeness—it’s only natural that he finds himself curious.

It’s normal that most evenings, Joel finds himself watching you. The way the campfire light dances across your focused face, the methodical way you clean your gear. It’s calming, he finds, and scarily comforting. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t wanted it—perhaps that’s what makes it all the more dangerous.

Still, Joel can’t help it.

So, he observes and he wonders—if circumstances were different, if life had been kinder—would he have noticed someone like you? His old ideals of types and attraction have dissolved, and he hadn’t been in the company of someone for a long time, but Christ, you were beautiful.

And, Joel likes to imagine that yes, he would have noticed someone like you, would’ve asked you out, drawn you close, spun his favourite vinyls in his living room just to lure you into a dance, see if jazz sounded as good as he remembers it.

But not here. Not now.

So, Joel fights it, fights you, fights himself. Fights fights that leave him breathless—not from extortion but from the unspoken words that fill his lungs like smoke.

You don’t talk a lot, but he thinks that if he wasn’t the way he was—if he appeared less guarded, if his smiles came easier—you might share the slice of thoughts he often sees flickering behind your eyes ever so often. He knows this because he had watched you almost speak, lips parting, only to catch yourself with a fleeting glance his way a subdued smile before your eyes drop to your scuffed boots.

And he knows he isn’t an easy man to keep as a company. He had always been a man of few words, and with or without you, his silence somehow often stretches into days, creating a chasm that’s hard to bridge. He’s haunted by memories, shadows of the past that linger just out of reach but always present. Nightmares plague his sleep, and when he wakes, he’s more withdrawn, the walls around him fortified. His anger, though controlled, simmers beneath the surface, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

Yet, despite all this, you still stay.

But there comes a night, one unlike the others, when the stars hang heavy in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the world. The campfire crackles softly, and the usual weight of silence feels different, charged with something unsaid.

Joel sits across from you, eyes flickering between the flames and your profile, bathed in the soft light.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and for once, you don’t look away. The moment stretches, and something inside him softens, a wall beginning to crumble.

“Can you do something for me?” he asks, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

You nod slowly, curiosity and something else—hope?—lighting your eyes.

“Talk to me,” he says, voice a low murmur, almost lost in the night’s quiet. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

You hesitate, glancing at the fire, before meeting his gaze again. “I think... I think I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Joel’s breath hitches. The openness in your voice, the raw vulnerability, seeps into him, warming the cold recesses of his heart. He moves closer, the distance between you shrinking, the fire casting dancing shadows on his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he confesses, his voice rough. “But I want to try.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. He takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might disappear.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The silence is no longer a barrier but a shared space, filled with the unspoken understanding that something has shifted. Joel’s thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, a soothing, grounding motion.

“I’ve been scared,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of feelin’... of losin’...”

You squeeze his hand, offering silent reassurance. “You don’t have to be scared alone,” you reply softly. “We can face it together.”

He looks at you then, and something within him clicks into place. The fortress he’s built around his heart begins to dissolve, brick by brick. He pulls you closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “Please.”

Your answer is a soft whisper against his lips as you close the distance, and he allows himself to feel—fully and completely.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure he minded.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #tlou #pedrostories #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble

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notsunnyowo · 2 days

Note

Loved your Gojo x Reader fic,m over the Hanahaki disease. Could you do Gojo x Reader with a nightmare? The nightmare relating to manga events (unless you’re not a manga reader then just a nightmare in general).

I already made a fic of my own based on the reader having a nightmare and Gojo comforting them over it, (which you should definitely check out *wink wink*) all based on the manga events because I needed comfort from the latest chapter, but it’s not fun reading the same fic over and over, especially if your reading your own. I need more and thankfully it seems other people aside from myself have made nightmare fics based on the manga (well actually pretending the manga isn’t existent to an extent for our comfort), but I still need more!!!!

sorry if I sound impatient I’m just petty a bit over the manga, I’m not mad with the recent chapter I just have been coping lol, but like I said if your not a manga reader just have the nightmare be something else, still angsty but fluff at the end!

Despite not beeing a manga reader myself I've got some basic knowledge on what happens to our beautiful blue-eyed boi Gojo 😭

So I hope this will turn out to be to your liking!

𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊 - 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚 𝕲𝖔𝖏𝖔

Summary: After waking up from a gruesome nightmare, you bury yourself into your husband's loving arms.

Content: MANGA SPOILERS! Sensitive content, Mentions of death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a happy ending, Husband! Gojo Satoru x Female! Reader (AFAB)

Word count: 763

The sounds of thunderous crashes and buildings collapsing echoed in the distance, slowly growing louder and louder, the closer you approached towards the source of the chaotic mayhem.

It was a full-on battle to the death between the two strongest beings in existence. A fight to see who'd come on top. Which one was truly the better sorcerer.

You ran as fast as your feet could carry you. Dodging falling debris and other enemies that came your way. You had to get to him as fast as you could. Had to find Satoru and help him.

Activating your cursed technique, your entire body was coated in a layer of cursed energy which served as a protective barrier which would keep you from any harm that might befall you the closer you got to the front lines of the battlefield.

It might not have been as strong as Satoru's infinity, however it would surely provide you with some much needed protection if the so-called 'King of Curses' decided on launching a surprise attack your way.

You were out of breath, running past your limits, all in a desperate attempt to reach your beloved and offer him your aid, before he got overwhelmed.

Yet once you arrived at his side, you wished you'd gotten killed by some curse along the way.

With utter horror in your eyes you watched Satoru's upper half fall to the ground. His lower body still standing upright for a moment after, before it too fell down on the ground.

The sight made your stomach drop to the floor.

You felt as if you were about to puke at the sight. Your knees felt weak, and you couldn't tell if it was due to your immense fatigue or as a result of the gruesome sight before you. Tears filled your eyes and you felt your heart breaking into a million pieces.

No. . .

No no no no no. . .

This isn't real. . It isn't. . It can't be. !

You let out a broken cry, the sound instantly alerting Satoru's murderer. As his cold deep eyes met yours you felt frozen in place. Unable to move as the man gave you a malevolent smile, before snapping his fingers.

Before suddenly.. It all went black.

"(Name). . ."

"(Name). . . Wake up!"

With a sudden gasp, your eyes shot open and you were met with a pair of ocean blue eyes, staring at you.

"Love, are you okay? . . . What happened?" Hunched over, before you, stood your husband - who you'd just watched get split in half just a second ago.

His brows furrowed at the sight of your disheveled appearance and your glossy eyes. From the looks of it, Satoru deduced that you'd had a nightmare. A rather unpleasant one at that..

The sight of your trembling body, made his heart ache. Despite not knowing what exactly your nightmare was, Satoru couldn't help but curse whatever your mind had conjured during your sleep to make you so distressed.

"Hey.. It's okay.." Your husband cooed, his tone soft and calming, as he gently cupped your cheek, whipping the tears off your face. "It's all going to be okay sweetness.. Shh... shh.. It's okay, don't cry.."

Wrapping his strong arms around you, the milky-haired man enveloped you in a warm and most importantly - secure embrace. His hand gently caressed your head. It was such a calm motion in comparison to your anxiously tremoring body.

"Satoru-" You cried out his name, as you sobbed into his chest. The sound of your broken cries was enough to make your husband tear up. How he wanted to make all of your pain go away. He couldn't bear to watch you fall apart like this.

"I-I had a dream, and you-" The feeling of a big lump forming in your throat forbade you from going on any further. You just couldn't bring yourself to openly voice your troubles to your worried husband.

"Shh.. It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to.." Gojo whispered softly against your ear, his gentle touch never ceasing to calm you down. Or at least try to. "Everything's going to be alright love.. Just breathe f'me, okay?"

Pressing gentle kisses to your head, Satoru continued whispering calming words to you while he stroked your hair. " 'M here for you love.."

His words made you look up at him, with teary eyes. "Promise?" Your voice was low and shaky, almost as if it belonged to a distraught child.

"Always." The man spoke, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'll always stay by your side (Name)."

"I promise."

Author Note:

I hope I didn't disappoint with this ask and that everyone enjoyed reading! PS: For anyone that has already sent an ask, know that I will be getting to it in the following days and posting a reply asap! :D

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lorei-writes · 3 days

Text

Sweet Nightmare

William x OC (OC Chart: Charlotte) Fluff/Comfort ~600 words

An idea flash occurred, so it had to be let out.

Content Warnings: none

Sleep, sleep, locked further in the land of dreams than an eye can see. Let slumberous sand embrace you, push its way into your ears, your mouth… Sleep, for what else is there for you beside dreams? Only there you can feel… … not even you still believe in that lie…

Sleep, sleep, locked further in the land of dreams than an eye can see.

Let slumberous sand embrace you, push its way into your ears, your mouth…

Sleep, for what else is there for you beside dreams?

Only there you can feel…

… not even you still believe in that lie…

William’s chest heaves as he releases a heavy sigh, hot breath clashing against cooled evening air. It is quietly cacophonous, a hailstorm of thoughts emerging from cloudy clarity, freed now that pleasures of the flesh hang low above the dark granite floor of his bedroom. His crimson gaze travels across the room, from the door, to the black velvet sofa, the mahogany table… the pile of hastily discarded clothes, the sleeves of his coat fondling a neckline of a dim burgundy dress, his cloak a snake throttling its skirt. Sweat taints his scarlet satin bedsheets, diluted in sweet essence of Charlotte’s moans, each resurrected gasp still lingering under the surface of his skin. William’s back aches pleasantly where her nails clawed into him…

Charlotte is so innocent when she sleeps, or so at least William concludes. She must be, as she hides her face in the bend of her elbow, so very sheepish despite being unaware… Her skin is as white as porcelain, spotless save for one spot; strawberry blonde hair drapes over her bony shoulders, clavicles protruding sharply from her chest. Yet there is still softness to her, to her thighs and to her belly, her breasts, and to where a fluttering butterfly has been branded into her skin. William lets his touch brush over her side, supple warmth turning freezing as soon as his fingertips glide above the angry scar.

… guilty…

… not guilty?…

Did she deserve it?

A part of him wants to take up a knife and to carve it away. To free her once and for all, to erase the evidence of her ever being chained. To punish her, perhaps, for she too has sinned… But wouldn’t it be self-righteous of him to hold as much against her? William swallows a chuckle, but Charlotte scrunches her nose up regardless, his long fingers combing through her tresses. Silk-soft strand wound around his hand, he brings it to his lips, bestows it with a feathery kiss.

“M-mhm.” A muffled complaint exits her throat.

“What is it, my sweet Nightmare? Are you having another bad dream tonight?” William hums, draws her to himself by the waist. The warmth of his skin seems to lull Charlotte, to lead her back into more peaceful sleep. Her penance postponed, frown briefly eases off her face and she cuddles into his side, her lashes tickling William rather terribly. Ha.

“Rock-a-bye baby, on the tree tops, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock.”

Ha. Haha.

“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall.”

Is it so bad?

“And down will come baby, cradle and all.”

Then why is it so good?

Their fate has already been recorded among the stars. In that moment, however, William could not be more content. The judge, the accomplice and the guilty yet to be sentenced, he embraces the sin of his blood and the blood spilled through her sin. Charlotte, his wicked communion… And he, the snake who had her forsake the hopes of absolution. Entwined, interlocked, they fall asleep, free and bound by their respective curses. Until another morning… Another night, another day… For as long as they still are, and to cherish that precious “still”.

You've seen a typo? Let me know!

Tag list: @lancelotscloak @starlitmanor-network @violettduchess @lucyw260

+@snapdraco

Since it is my first work for IkeVil with an active taglist, I've tagged the people who either asked for it or subscribed to "all" Ikemen games (pre-Vil release). Please, tell me if you'd like to be kept or added to my taglist >:)

#william rex #ikevil william #ikemen villains william #ikevil oc #ikemen villains oc #ikevil #ikemen villains #ikemen series #ikevil charlotte

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macbethsymphony · 3 days

Text

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 8

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 2.5k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 8: The Burden of a Creator

The soft buzz of the ship filled the infirmary as you lay on the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Your body still felt numb, but sensation and control were slowly returning to you. Two days had passed since the incident at the marine base, yet the memories still haunted your dreams, replaying the events over and over like a relentless nightmare.

Each time you woke, disoriented and drenched in sweat, one of the Straw Hat crew members was there, a comforting presence at your side. Whether it was Luffy keeping you entertained with stories of his childhood, or Sanji, trying to coax you into eating a bite or two of the food he’d brought, they never left you alone for long.

Today was no different. As your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with the sight of Robin sitting beside your bed, a book in her hand and a serene expression on her face. Her presence brought you a sense of calm, grounding you in the reality of the ship's familiar surroundings.

"Hey," Robin said softly, setting her book aside as she noticed you stirring. "How are you feeling?"

You managed a weak smile, your voice barely above a whisper. "Better, I think," you replied, your throat dry and scratchy.

Robin reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, holding it to your lips as you took small sips, grateful for the relief it provided. "You've been through a lot," she said, her tone gentle and understanding. "But you're safe now. We won't let anything happen to you."

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat at the reminder of the crew's kindness. You hadn’t been on the ship for long, but they had been by your side through thick and thin, offering their strength and reassurance when you needed it most.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice barely audible as tears welled up in your eyes. "I didn't mean to put any of you in danger."

Robin reached out, gently wiping away your tears with a comforting touch. "We know," she said, her voice filled with compassion.

Her words brought you comfort but the guilt you felt for failing to control Yokubari was unbearable on your conscience.

“Were there any survivors?” You asked her after a while.

“Not that we know of.” Robin’s response weighed heavily on your heart. The burden of responsibility for the lives lost at the marine base pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“I see.” You turned your back to the woman, closing your eyes in a futile attempt to forget.

“We… The crew survived so it’s not impossible” She added, a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You didn’t answer. It was a pointless attempt to give you hope.

When it became clear to Robin that you were not going to respond, she got up with a sigh. You listened as her footsteps carried her towards the exit of the infirmary. She stopped for a while, a hesitant hand on the doorknob. “You did the best you could.” She said voice heavy. “Sometimes, things are beyond our control. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened.” Her tone sounded distant, as though she was directing those kind words to someone else.

She opened the door and closed it gently behind her.

She was wrong. Yokubari was your responsibility. Deep down you had known there was the possibility you wouldn’t be able to control it in your weakened state. And yet. Yet, your fear had made you selfish. Selfish enough to endanger those around you. Selfish enough to kill, to take innocent lives away from this world.

You tossed and turned, willing yourself to go to sleep unsuccessfully. This wouldn’t do. With a groan you clumsily sat up. Your eyes landed on the sword at your feet. The blade seemed to beckon to you. With a heavy sigh, you reached for it, running your fingers along the smooth obsidian surface of the scabbard.

“I should throw you in the sea.” You mumbled at the blade.

Silence.

“I swear, you’re nothing but trouble. You’re greedy. You’re stubborn… You’re worse than a cursed blade really.” You reprimanded.

The soft hum emanating from the sword seemed satisfied, proud almost.

“You caused so much pain” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “And yet, I can’t bring myself to part with you.”

It was pleased with your words, pleased with itself. You can’t help the anger that filled you at its content hum.

“I should have never created you,” You whispered, your voice tinged with regret. You knew it was pointless, you hadn’t had a choice but to create it. Still, it was a necessary lie you told yourself to keep you sane. “You were supposed to be a tool for good, but all you’ve brought is pain and destruction.”

The sword remained quiet, its cold surface offering no solace or reassurance. It reveled in the chaos it caused, indifferent of the suffering it wrought.

“Having a heart-to-heart with the sword, huh?” Franky chuckled in the doorway, trying to lighten the mood. His brows were furrowed with concern, a sharp contrast with the lightness of his tone.

“An aimless argument I keep having” you said, shooting him a half smile.

Franky pulled up a chair, sitting down beside you. “Look, kid, what happened back there. None of us blame you for it. That sword… Zoro said its got a mind of its own. He didn’t explain much but it ain’t really your fault, is it? What happened that is.”

You stared at Franky, his words slowly sinking in.

“You’re wrong, I knew there was a chance I’d lose control. I gambled with all your lives.” You argued weakly. “Besides, I’m the one who created it. I brought this bastard of a sword into existence.”

Franky leaned forward, his expression earnest. He scratched his head, looking for the words he wanted to say. “Let me tell you something, kiddo. Never be ashamed of what you’ve created.” He started. “No creation is inherently evil. You made that sword with good intentions, right?” He asked.

You nodded.

“That blade, it’s a work of art. I can tell you put a lot of effort and passion into it when you forged it. A sword’s purpose may be to kill, but at the end of the day a weapon is still just a tool. It can be used as much for good than evil.” The cyborg stated, eyes not leaving yours. “What happened back there was an accident. I’m not saying you don’t hold responsibility for what you decide to create but intent matters.

Your eyes left his to look down at the sword clutched in your hands. Your vision was suddenly blurry as thick tears rolled down your cheeks.

You sniffed loudly. “Franky” you uttered between loud sobs, “I’m so sorry” your shoulders shook violently with emotion.

“Oi, oi, oi, kiddo” Franky’s strong arms enveloped you in a comforting embrace, his voice gentle as he tried to soothe your turmoil. “No need to apologize.”

Your fists buried themselves in his Hawaiian shirt as you finally let the tension you’d been holding out of your system.

“Is everything alright?” Chopper’s rattled voice rang through the room as he slammed the door open in panic.

“What’s going on?” Sanji appeared next, clearly frazzled. “I heard the sound of a woman’s tears falling.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips at the cheesy line from the cook. You let go of the cyborg’s shirt and he passed you the box of tissues next to him.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)? Are you hurt somewhere? Do you need medical attention?” The small reindeer asked in a frenzy.

You blew out your nose loudly. Tears still falling on your cheeks.

“No Chopper” You said with a smile. “I think I’ll be alright!”

“That’s my firecracker!” The cyborg said proudly, giving you a pat on the back before standing up and leaving space for Chopper.

The doctor bustled over instantly, taking your vitals.

“Franky” You called out to the shipwright as he was making his way out. “Thank you.”

He turned back, his trademark grin radiated positivity. “No problem, firecracker! Besides we’re family.” He took a few steps before turning to you again. “By the way, you should join us for dinner if you have the energy. Everyone’s been worried sick over ya and it’ll do you good to get out of here.” He gestured at the small room.

You nodded gratefully, a genuine smile spreading on your face. “I think I’d like that,” you said, feeling a spark of warmth at the thought of being surrounded by your newfound family once more.

“Well, in that case, I better make a feast. We ought to celebrate.” Sanji said following the cyborg out of the infirmary.

“I wasn’t sure if we’d lose you.” Chopper spoke, bringing your attention back to him. “But you’re doing much better now,” he stated with a hint of pride in his voice. “Just make sure to take it easy, okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks, doc”, you said sincerely. “I’ll make sure to listen to your orders.” You shoot him a conspiratorial wink.

The doctor readjusted his hat shyly, happiness and relief clear in his eyes.

The galley was bustling with energy as you entered. The smell of Sanji’s cooking made your stomach grumble loudly.

“Oh! You’re finally out of bed!” Luffy’s voice boomed with enthusiasm, and before you could fully process his words, his palm landed squarely on your back with a force that nearly sent you careening forward. You stumbled a few steps, catching yourself just in time to avoid crashing into the table.

“Whoa there, Captain,” you chuckled, steadying yourself. “Good to see you too.”

Luffy grinned. You let yourself fall down in your chair, not completely trusting your legs yet. You set your sword next to you, unwilling to let it out of your sight just yet.

“How are you feeling, (Y/n)?” Usopp asked, his eyes leaving the slingshot he was tinkering with. The conversations died around you, all awaiting your answer.

“I’ll be alright.” you said. “All thanks to our amazing doctor.”

Chopper looked down shyly at the compliment, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Robin smiled warmly from her seat, setting her book down. “We missed your company. It’s good to have you back.”

“That’s right, you had us worried for a second there” Nami added next to you.

Sanji placed plates of food on the table. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d make a feast. You watched as the rest of the crew took their places around the table.

The swordsman lowered himself into the seat across from you, his gaze intense yet guarded. For a moment, it seemed as though he was about to speak, but then he hesitated, his lips pressing together in a firm line as if wrestling with his thoughts.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Zoro broke the silence between the two of you. “Glad to see you’re up” he muttered gruffly under his breath.

“Thanks for bringing back Yokubari” you shot back at him.

He shuffled uncomfortably. “’twas nothing.”

You scoffed. Like hell it was nothing.

The swordsman began to say something else but Sanji interrupted the moment.

"Here you go, (Y/n)," he said with a charming smile, placing a heaping plate of food in front of you. "Made with extra love and care to help you get back on your feet."

You glanced down at the mouthwatering spread before you, feeling a surge of gratitude toward the cook for his kindness. "Thanks, Sanji," you said, offering him a grateful smile. "It looks delicious."

Sanji beamed at your appreciation before turning his attention to the rest of the crew, ensuring that everyone had their fill before he let Luffy dig in. The galley buzzed with conversation and laughter, the atmosphere warm and inviting as the crew shared stories and jokes with one another.

As you dug into your meal, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie wash over you. Despite the challenges you had faced and the mistakes you had made, you were surrounded by a crew who accepted you for who you were, flaws and all. You’d have to write to Mary about it, she was going to be happy.

Across the table, Nami and Usopp engaged in a spirited debate about the merits of different navigational techniques, their voices rising and falling in animated discussion. You couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm, grateful for their friendship and the sense of normalcy they brought to your life.

Chopper, his plate piled high with food, chattered excitedly with Robin about a book they were both reading. Robin listened attentively, her quiet wisdom a steady presence amidst the exuberance of the young doctor.

And Luffy, ever the enthusiastic captain, laughed and joked with each member of the crew in turn, his infectious energy lighting up the room and drawing everyone together in a spirit of camaraderie and friendship.

You could feel Zoro’s eye on you as he still clearly battled with something in his mind.

“Well? What is it?” You asked him, tired of waiting.

He wavered for an instant. “Let me hold that sword of yours again.” He demanded.

Your mind struggled to process the meaning of his words. You couldn’t help the incredulous “huh?” that crossed your lips at the man’s idiocy.

Brook stumbled a note on his guitar, stopping the tune he’d been playing. The conversations died around you.

“Let me hold Yokubari” The swordsman demanded again.

“Are you fucking mad?” You screeched.

Zoro’s jaw clenched, he held your gaze, unwilling to back down.

“Are you suicidal or something? It almost fucking killed you!” you scowled at him.

His eye bore into you with a fiery intensity, his words dripping with stubbornness. “I need to check something, let me hold it. I can handle it.”

You both knew that last part was a blatant lie. You shot him an insolent glare. “Oh, look who thinks can handle you, Yokubari, do you agree?” You retorted, tone dripping with sarcasm as you set the sword on the table in a bold display. Your eyes traveled from the blade back to the swordsman in defiance.

His face broke into a familiar sneer. “I can fucking handle it” he reiterated leaning forward.

You scoffed, a smirk playing on your lips. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the expert on handling my own damned swords,” you shot back, tone dripping with condescension.

“You’re downright insufferable, witch” He shouted at you, standing up brusquely.

“Oh yeah?” Your nostrils flared with anger as you stood up, matching his stance. “Well, you’re just a fucking idiot if you think you can handle it again, swordsman.”

The crew sat back, looking amusedly at the familiar display before them.

Everything was all right after all.

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#the swordsman and the blacksmith #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #charlou writes

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redroomreflections · 2 days

Text

Not Easily Broken Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

4/10

Note: Yes, it's getting finished besties.

W/c: 4.7k (whew!)

“When you are in love and you get hurt, it’s like a cut. It will heal, but there will always be a scar. “ - Soo Jie

When everything else fell away, only one truth remained. You love Natasha. You love her with everything in you. Which is why you’re lying awake in the bed of your hotel room with her inches away from you. You want to reach out and pull her into your arms. You want to kiss all of her fears away and show her how much you love her.

She’s lying on her stomach facing you. Her left hand rests just under her cheek while her right is stretched upward towards the headboard. It’s a habit left over from the Red Room that you hadn’t seen her do in years. Not since you two spent most of your nights together. The first night she slept with you she explained the handcuffs. It was a method Madam B and her other trainers used to ensure the girls of The Red Room wouldn’t attempt to escape in the night. For Natasha, it brought comfort to her during her adult years. Over time she’d ditched the cuffs and settled for cuddling into you.

There were many nights she begged for the cuffs to ensure she wouldn’t harm you after a nightmare. It saddens you to see she may be feeling unsafe or insecure enough to unconsciously need to do it again. You can see the faint tear stains on her cheeks. They’re a harsh reminder of her confession from last night. Her brows are knit together. Does she ever let herself rest?

Everything is hitting you at once and it’s a terrible feeling. You sigh shifting in the bed to get comfortable. You don’t know how long you’ve been awake. Lying here. Thinking. The need to sleep has evaded you. This time of night or morning feels pretty serene all things considered. No one here to talk, no one asking you questions about the latest project, and most of all no one here to lecture you on anything. All you’re left with is your thoughts and the sound of Natasha’s soft snoring next to you.

What time is it exactly? Too early to tell. Usually, you would be out of the office by now but today was an exception. You can feel the exhaustion settled deeply in your bones. It’s a constant tidal wave caused by deep-seated guilt. The darkness of the night no longer comforts you as the sun begins to rise. When was the last time you let yourself sleep in? You peer up at the ceiling. The weight of the world is on your shoulders and you don’t know what to address first. How could you have messed up so badly? How had everything gone to shit so quickly? Would things change between you and Natasha? How did you miss all of her signs that she needed you?

Natasha can assure you many times that she was happy and you still won’t believe it. You swallow thickly as you think about all of the dinners you missed. The recitals and the baseball games. The nights you didn’t come home early enough to put the kids to bed. Natasha did everything on her own while still working. She put the time aside to be there for the kids.

You feel like such a jackass. You became something - someone you promised yourself you’d never be. Ryan and Emma were not an afterthought. They were the sun and the moon. Your world revolved around them and yet you neglected that. You neglected your family and all you want to do is go back.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Natasha murmurs into her pillow. Your eyes fly to her. You hadn’t realized she was awake. She nuzzles her head into the pillow while taking a deep breath. Her lashes flutter as she opens her eyes. The green is mesmerizing. Natasha looks good even in the mornings.

“I’m sorry,” You find yourself saying. Natasha hums. She lowers her right hand hoping to get the feeling back in her arm as she stretches. The arch of her back catches your attention. She yawns and you wait for her to say something else. Finally, she lifts so that she’s just a bit closer to you. You want nothing more than to pull her into your arms.

“What time is it?” She asks. She can see the sliver of light from the curtains.

“Early,” You shrug. The urge to be near her is harder to ignore. You scoot closer. Natasha is bolder. She always has been. She shifts so that she’s cuddling into you. She nudges your chin with her nose, snuggling into your neck while throwing her left leg over your hips. Her leg settles between yours as she breathes in your scent. She’s wearing the same pajamas from the other night. Which means her bare legs are pressed against yours. The skin-to-skin contact is comforting. She trusts you at this moment to bring her that comfort she so desperately needs.

You’re unsure where to place your hands. Usually, your hands would be placed on her behind. Butt rubs were a thing you liked to give often. Natasha was always a happy recipient. You’re reminded that back then the butt rubs usually ended with sex but you somehow think that won't be appropriate. Other times a butt or back rub was soothing for her and you'd both fall asleep. What if she doesn’t want you to touch her? What if she’s not ready for that? Would sex complicate things? Not that it’s your intention. It’s a weird thought that takes you out of the space until Natasha grips your hand in hers before placing it on the curve of her bottom. She doesn’t seem to have the same reservations that you do. Her hand leaves yours to rest in the space between your breasts.

It’s a stark contrast to the beginning of your relationship where you both had a lot to learn about loving each other and intimacy. Despite her aloof demeanor, Natasha was a big softie. Her love language was physical touch while yours was quality time and affirmations. You worked so well together to fulfill each other's needs. Seems you would have to relearn that.

“I’m yours,” She whispers into your neck.

“Huh?” You ask. You’re almost sure of what she said but you want her to say it again.

“I’m yours,” Natasha lifts herself so that she’s looking into your eyes. “You don’t have to wonder if you should touch me or not.” She emphasizes her words by wiggling her behind into your hand a little more. You almost forget how well she knows you.

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” You admit.

“You won't.” She replies. You nod. You’re encouraged by this as you palm her ass more. You’re massaging the firm, round cheek familiarizing yourself with her body again. She lets out an airy and satisfied moan.

“Nat,” You question. She opens her eyes, glancing at your lips, before trailing them up to your eyes again.

“You don’t have to ask to touch me either,” You say. She gives a subtle nod before raising herself so that her lips align with yours. You think she’s about to finally kiss you when she raises her hand to run her thumb across your bottom lip. Her touch is feather-light. You can feel the temperature in the room rise that much more as you simply touch each other. It feels like an eternity as her hands go from tracing your lip to caressing your cheek.

You could feel your heart practically beating out of your chest at this point. It was beating faster and faster until finally, her lips touched yours. It was a quick kiss. Just a gentle pressing of lips before she pulls back. She searches you for any protest before diving in again. She melted in your arms, moaning against your lips, as your touch against her bottom increased. You’d rather walk through fire than lose the feeling of Natasha against you. You don’t realize how much you’ve missed her until now. How much you crave her touch.

Natasha kisses like it's the last time. She kisses like you’re the only person in the world she wants to kiss and it’s true. She moves her knee to change position, unintentionally brushing against your core. You pull away from her lips unable to hide the cry that leaves you. Natasha moves again and this time you know she meant to do it as her thigh pushes into you again. A jolt of arousal courses through you.

“Nat,” You breathe. It’s so much different than earlier. It’s needier. She flexes her thigh again and this time you rock your hips against her. She watches your face for a reaction and you don’t disappoint. Your eyes snap shut as you focus on the feeling of her surrounding you. Your senses were overloaded with Natasha. She kisses you again sliding her tongue into your mouth just as she nudges her knee against your clit. Her left hand travels down your body to find its way under your shirt. She skates her fingers upward until she’s holding your breast in her hands. Her thumb skates across your nipple pulling another moan from your throat. God, you’ve missed this. She pinches the now-hardened bud between her fingers.

Natasha’s lips leave your lips to nip at the juncture where your chin meets your neck. Your moan is louder, more brazen, and indicative of how much you want her. A sign of how much you need her. She abandons her time at your breast to run her fingers across the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

She searches your face, waiting for you to say no, but you only give her an enthusiastic yes. Her fingers push against the barrier of the shorts to find you clean-shaven. You were not expecting sex on this trip. Truly. You just didn’t like to be unprepared. The first feel of Natasha’s calloused fingers parting your lips is pure heaven. Your breath hitches as she glides through your folds. You’re wet. Almost embarrassingly so. Neither of you wants to think about how long it’s been. She knows your body like no other.

She knows little things about you that no one else does. She’s aware of that spot just below your ear that causes shivers up your spine. She knows the way you prefer the tight circles around your clit rather than a direct firm touch. Natasha knows your body and how to tease you just right.

“Is all this for me?” Her lips are pressed against your ear. You frown in frustration as you try to get her to apply more pressure. You nod instead as words slip from your mind. “Would you like me to fuck you?” She asks. Her voice is warm and raspy and so damn hot. She places her index finger on your clit causing your eyes to shut tightly. “Answer me, Lyubov.”

“Yes, Nat, I want you to, shit, I want you to fuck me.” You nod enthusiastically.

“Hmm,” Natasha hums. You’re not sure how this quiet morning escalated so quickly but you aren’t complaining at all. Her fingers circle your entrance collecting your wetness before coming back up to rub your clit again. She returns to your entrance ready to push inside when there’s a knock at the connecting door.

“Mommy?” Natasha pauses looking at you in panic. Did you lock the door?

“Mommy, Ryan, and I are real hungry,” Emma calls through the door. “We’ve been waiting for twelve years.” You can hear her twist the knob. Your daughter was so dramatic. Also quite effective at ruining the mood. You whine as Natasha pulls her fingers out of your shorts.

“Duty calls,” Natasha says as she begins to leave the bed. You reach out for her hand taking the digits that were almost inside you into your mouth. You suck her fingers clean, enjoying the taste of yourself, as Natasha’s eyes widen. She narrows her eyes as she presses her fingers further into your mouth until you gag just slightly. Oh, she fights dirty. Finally, she pulls her fingers away from your mouth with a pop. The frown on your face seems to amuse her as she stands again.

“Mama, Mommy, did you hear me?” Emma calls through the door again.

“Yes, Printsessa, patience,” Natasha calls back. It’s something she often has to tell the little girl. There’s an audible huff from the little girl before she walks away you assume. “She gets that from you,” Natasha informs you as she walks into the bathroom to wash her hands and brush her teeth. You’re not sure you can move right now.

“Me? Absolutely not. I’m very patient.” You fall back into the pillows.

“Really?” Nat peeks her head out of the bathroom door. She eyes you for a second before going back inside. “Are you coming to breakfast with us?”

“Sure, just, let me shower again.” You roll from the bed to land on your feet. Your underwear sticks to your intimate area most uncomfortably. You walk into the bathroom, stepping up to Natasha, as she finishes washing her hands. You grip her hips pressing your own into her. She rubs her ass into your front as you kiss along her neck. Her hands grip the counter to keep her steady. She watches you in the mirror as you nip at her skin. You won’t mark her despite how much you want to. You want her to go home with your markings all over her body. You want Richard and everyone else at the compound to know who she belongs to. It’s a startling passion you haven’t felt in a long while. “Shower with me,” You murmur against her skin. You rock into her and she meets your thrusts.

“We can’t,” Natasha sighs as you cup her breasts through the silk shirt. “We shouldn’t.” Natasha shakes her head. You stop to make eye contact with her in the mirror. You can see the seriousness of her tone. Something’s changed. Despite her arousal, there’s a truth in her words. Should you be having sex right now? Wouldn't that complicate things? You’re not quite sure. Natasha turns in your arms to look at you. She’s apologetic. Almost guilty. “I’m sorry I just… I don’t know what came over me in there but I want us to work through everything first without having sex.” She bites her lip nervously. She’s afraid of your answer. “I’m not saying I don't want to. Soon. Just not now.”

“Of course, yeah.” You nod. You’re a bit disappointed but you understand her stance. It might be what you both need. At least for now. “I’m going to shower.” You tilt your head towards the mentioned. “I promise to keep my hands to myself if you do decide to join.”

“Unfortunately I can’t promise the same thing,” Natasha frowns. “Go, shower, I’ll get the kids dressed and think of a place.” You nod again. She seems like she’s thinking of something before she closes the few inches between you to kiss you again. “I love you.” She says.

“I love you too, Natasha.” You give her another kiss. You step back and wait for her to leave the room. She closes the door behind her with a final glance at you. You let out a harsh deep breath before turning to the shower. This was going to be hard. You’re willing to do whatever it takes.

****************

After wrangling the kids together the first stop of the day is Keke’s Breakfast Cafe. You sit in a booth with Natasha’s thighs touching yours. Ryan and Emma sit on the same bench. You help Emma into her booster seat so that she’s higher than the table. You’re on the outer part near the aisle when the waitress approaches. She’s young, mid-twenties, and has a bright smile. She glances around the table with her eyes ultimately landing on you.

“Hello, I’m Dee, I’ll be your server for today. Can I start you off with drinks?” She pulls out her pen and pad waiting expectantly.

“I’ll have water, the kids will have apple juice, Natasha?” You look over to her.

“I’ll have water too, please.” Natasha answers. Dee takes your drink order and leaves you to look over the menus.

“Can we get whatever we want?” Ryan asks. You help Emma with the menu.

“Yes, whatever you want.” You answer him. He reads the menu with ease.

“Well, I want chocolate chips,” Emma informs you. She points to a picture of the silver dollar pancakes. You nod taking note of her order. She decides on sausages, scrambled eggs, and a side of strawberries. Ryan decides on the same.

“I don’t know what I want,” Natasha shrugs as she searches the menu. “Something light.” She says as you lean over to see what she’s seeing. Despite her words for something light, Natasha decides on the Eggs Benedict with a side of pancakes.

You’re more inclined to choose waffles and then eat off of Natasha’s plate. Dee comes back around in five minutes to take your order. She writes down the notes with interest when you ask her about the pin on her shirt.

“You’re from Brooklyn ?” You ask and she nods. “What has you down here?”

“My grandmother lives here.” Dee shrugs. “I get to live with her and I help take care of her.” You nod in understanding. “I’ve been trying to get a job at Stark Hotels. I heard their night auditor job pays well but until now I’m here. I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She apologizes.

“No, no, it’s fine.” You wave a hand in dismissal. “I work for Stark Industries and I know a few people over at the hotel.”

“Really?” She asks. You don’t notice her stance but Natasha does. She’s flirting now. She bats her lashes and folds her arms under her chest pushing her breast a bit higher. Natasha’s eyes narrow and she places a possessive hand on your thigh.

“Yes, if you give me your number and full name and a good email to reach you I can forward the manager your name.”The conversation seems innocent enough. Until she directs her next words to Natasha. Dee scribbles all of her info on a blank sheet in her pad while ripping it away. She places it in front of you.

“Your friend is doing me a solid.” Dee smiles at Natasha. Natasha looks around the table and before back to Dee. What about this picture would indicate that you’re just friends.

“Wife,” Natasha corrects her. Your eyes snap to Nat and she squeezes your thigh in return.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed since I didn’t see any rings.” Dee apologizes. “You have such a beautiful family.” Emma steps in this time with a hint of indignation.

“I’m still hungry.” She frowns up at Dee. She’s picked up on the woman’s flirting.

“Oh, right, I’ll get right on that.” Dee smiles down at Emma. “Thank you again.” She scrambles away to the back to put in your order.

Nat’s grip on your thigh loosens as Emma strikes up a conversation about dance. She tells you both about Libby Gibson and how she pulled her pigtails one day in class. You almost tell her to hit the girl back but you know that wouldn’t be a proper response. Violence is never the answer. Right?

“And Mommy, you missed DisneyWorld. I met all of the princesses but not Snow White or the Evil Queen.” Emma frowns.

“Well, I am sorry for missing that. How about we go today ?” You suggest. Emma and Ryan cheer together.

“You don’t have work again?” Ryan asks.

“No, I-I took some time off to spend more time with you guys,”

“And Mama?” Emma adds.

“And Mama,” You confirm. Your hand finds Natasha under the table.

“For real this time? You’re not just tricking us? That would be kind of mean.” Ryan doesn’t smile just yet. His words are innocent but you know there’s hurt behind them.

“I promise, baby, I’m here with you guys.” You tell them.

“Good,” Ryan looks down at the placemat coloring page. He finds the red crayon and occupies himself with staying in the lines.

“I’m glad you’re not mad at us anymore,” Emma begins and you stop her.

“No, baby girl, I was never angry with you.” You’re not quite sure this is a conversation to have in a restaurant but there are not many people in here at this hour.

“But you moved out? And you and Mama weren’t liking each other anymore.” Emma tilts her head in confusion. Dee picks this time to bring the drinks to the table. She sets them in their appropriate place with a smile before leaving you. “I told Mama I could pick up my toys clean my room and eat all of my vegetables. I did that and you didn’t come back. That sounds mad.” She’s blunt you’ll give her that. You also don’t miss the way she blames herself for your absence.

“Come here,” You gesture for her to come around the table. She slides from her seat just as you turn with your legs out towards the aisle. You help her climb into your lap wrapping your arms around her waist. “There is nothing that you did or will do that will make me stop loving you. There’s nothing that you or Ryan did that changes the way I love you. You’re my entire world, baby girl. You should pick up your toys and do all of the other things because you’re supposed to. Not because you think it will make me happy. Which it will be I would never leave you for that. Never.”

“But you have a new apartment all by yourself,” Emma points out. She frowns with tears shining in her eyes.

��I do,” You confirm. “ I know that must hurt for me to not be around as much as I used to. I apologize for being a bad mommy during these times. I know it hurts your feelings. You and Ryan. I’m sorry to both of you.” You glance over at him as he continues to color. You can tell he’s listening to the conversation. “I would like a chance to make it better.” You know truthfully there’s nothing that can take away the hurt.

Emma looks down at her hands and then into your eyes. “Is it bad that I was mad at you?”

“No, you’re allowed to have feelings.” You assure her. “I won’t be mad no matter how you feel. Just because I’m your mom doesn’t mean you always have to be happy with me. Sometimes I do things that will make you mad. You can always tell me.” Emma nods.

“I didn’t like that you made Mama cry,” She whispers almost as if she’s afraid of your reaction. This time she allows her tears to roll down her cheeks. You lift your hands to wipe them away.

“I know baby, I’m doing everything I can to make that up to you, Ryan, and Mama.” She leans into your chest listening to your heartbeat. “I’ll do everything in my power to not let you down.” Emma doesn’t make a move to go back to her seat. You turn to make the both of you more comfortable. “Did you hear that, Ryan? I’m apologizing to you too.” He looks up from the paper to Natasha. She’s been silent this entire time. He seems to be asking her permission to accept your apology.

“You don’t need me to say yes to how you feel.” Natasha reaches her hand across the table to take him in hers.

“Okay,” Ryan’s brow knit together. “I forgive you.” You give him a small smile. This conversation seems to be ending as Dee delivers the food to your table. Emma refuses to leave your lap so you opt to eat with one hand while holding her. She eats her pancakes enthusiastically before sharing her strawberries with you. She plops a few strawberries into your mouth.

“Good, Mommy?” She questions.

“Good, Emma.” You laugh.

She raises her hand to trace your chin with her own. Suddenly she turns your head forcefully to inspect something on your neck.

“What’s this? A bruise?”

Your eyes fly to Natasha’s and she has the decency to look guilty. You hadn’t noticed any hickies when you showered earlier this morning. She hides a smile behind her hand.

“It’s just a rash that I got from Mama.” You explain.

“Mama? How?” Emma tilts her head.

“I’ll let Mama answer that.” You lean back so she can see Natasha much better.

“Curling iron,” Natasha answers easily and Emma doesn’t question it any further.

“You should be more careful next time, Mama.” Emma scolds her.

“Yes, ma’am “ Natasha laughs. “I promise to be more careful when using the curling iron.” She laughs again at the face you’re making.

You’ll find a way to pay her back somehow.

DisneyWorld with the kids turns out to be a good time. You’ve done more walking than you have ever done in a single day as you make sure to hit up everything you can. Even then you’re pretty sure you haven’t seen the entire park. As the day winds down you can see the fussiness from Emma and the fatigue from Ryan. It’s time to head home. You reach a row of classic boardwalk games and suddenly you have an idea.

The first game you approach is a basketball game where you shoot hoops. You pull the five dollars from your pocket to hand to the host.

“Which one do you like?” You ask Natasha. She looks at you questioningly and you encourage her again. “Which one?” She points to the giant stuffed Goofy. No way would she fit that into her carry-on.

You roll your shoulders preparing to start the game. You set out to win only to lose. Badly. You’re not going up and you’re sure you’ve spent more money than you should. Finally, you win the Goofy and press it into Natasha’s arms. The stuffie is practically bigger than her. You wrap your arm around her shoulders as you walk with the kids in front of you towards the exit.

***********

When you make it back to your hotel room everyone is dressed in their pajamas and cuddled into the same bed. Natasha and you are on opposite sides of the bed with the kids between you. Sleep came so easily to them but you’re still awake. You lift to whisper out to her.

“Nat?” She sits up. “Let’s go.” You say as you make your way to the other bedroom. She covers the kids with the blanket before tiptoeing out of the room. The beds are much smaller but you just want to be close. She sits next to you on the edge of the bed.

“What the kids said today about being disappointed in me,” You began. You take a deep breath. “I want to be better. I know coming back home is going to be a long time from now. I want to come home a few times a week for breakfast and maybe dinner. Join you for dance lessons? I know this won’t be fixed overnight but I’m willing to work on it.”

“They’d love that,” She agrees.

There’s a pregnant pause for you to try again.

“I would like if we have some time together too?” Natasha eyes you. She’s still a bit guarded with her heart despite her weekend with you. “Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that,” Natasha smiles. She moves to straddle your lap. Your hands fly to her hips as she pushes you to lie back on the bed.

“I thought you said no sex?” You question between her kisses.

“I did,” She confirms. “Doesn’t mean we can’t make out.” She swipes her tongue across your lip asking for entry and you grant it to her.

“I like the sound of that,” You grin.

This should be fun.

---> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natsxaddiction #natasha romanov #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #angst

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tojithesourcererkiller · 10 hours

Text

My love is sick

Astarion x GN Tav

Summary- From knowing nothing but pain to suddenly being treated with care Astarion can’t help but feel like there’s always a shoe waiting to drop…

Notes- kind of a wee venty work….im sorry…I will write fluff….at somepoint…anyway its midnight rn and I’ve typed this on my phone so apologises if theirs Grammer mistakes I’ll fix them tomorrow on my laptop lel

Sickly sweet.

That’s the only way Astarion can describe how he feels hearing how soft Tav speaks to him. Every soft spoken words of reassurance makes him feel sick, every comforting touch burns his skin, every kind action from them makes him feel disgusted, after everything they know about him from his time under Cazador, to the many lives he ruined using his charms after everything they both and their party have been through how can they still look at him with those eyes full of love? It disgusts him.

It disgusts Astarion to his very core that their wasting their time with him, he expects them to use him or grow tired of him but yet their still here, their still by his side after breaking his trance from the nightmares, they still offer their blood to him when needed, they still offer a shoulder for him to cry on, it truly turns his stomach that someone who radiates as much love and warmth as the sun would even spare him a second glance

“-Starion is everything okay? You’ve been glaring at your glass for the last minuet”

Shaking himself free from his thoughts he looks towords them only to be met with those eyes of concern

“I know the wine isn’t the best but I don’t think the glass deserves that glare”

Avoiding their eyes astarion can’t help but let out a sigh of frustration as he hears Tav continue to speak with nothing but kindness his anger and fear begin to bubble past boiling point as he is unable to contain his emotions as he slams the cup in the table before letting all his anger and fear come pouring out

“PLEASE JUST STOP”

Unable to hold in all the feelings Astarion can feel himself begin to spill out all his thoughts he’s tried to keep at bay and unable to stop

“JUST STOP TREATING ME AS A EQUAL CAUSE WE BOTH KNOW THAT ITS A LIE”

Feeling the air in the air turn to ice and feeling the eyes of their companions on them Tav just stays silent while letting Astarion unleash everything

“WHY DO YOU STILL PRETEND TO CARE?! IS IT FOR THE PITTY POINTS?! FOR THE THRILL OF HAVINF A VAMPIRE SPAWN IN YOUR PARTY”

“Of course not Star please jus-“

“WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH FOR A BROKEN SPAWN LIKE ME?!”

Feeling himself struggle to keep the tears at bay and clenching his fists even harder he can’t help but to look to the ground to avoid their look of pity

“I’m not even useful anymore so why do you still care”

Slowly raising from their chair and making their way over to Astarion, gently taking his hand into their own running their thumbs alongside his knuckles

“My star I do not pretend to care about you for pity nor to use you, I’m sorry that no one else has shown you such care and love in 200 years”

Placing a small kiss to his knuckles they let one of his hands free bring their hand to cup his face to slowly wipe his tears away

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you, I love you more than the gods, I’d fight the nine hells and back just to prove to you how much my heart is yours”

Snapping his head up to meet their eyes for the first time in what feels like forever Astarion can’t help but look at them with eyes full of hope but still holding a sense of fear

“For as long as I live and breath you own my heart Astarion not out of pity nor greed but for love, I’ll always be here for you and with you for as long as you’ll have me”

Feeling his lip tremble he can’t help but squeeze their hand as reassurance,

Smiling towards him and asking for his permission before making their way closer and bringing him into a warm embrace Astarion finally lets go of all the pain and doubt he felt as he also lets out a small apology for his outburst as he melts into the embrace while Tav holds him securely while playing with the curls in his

“I hope it’s okay for me to love you forever my star”

#requesttojithesourcerkiller #asktojithescourcerkiller #x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #angst #someone please hug this man.#bg3 x reader #bg3 tav #fanfic

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theprenderelliepalace · 3 days

Text

Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Perception

Summary: Y/N drops some books off at the Salvatore residence, she expects to find trouble, being the odd one out and everything, she doesn't expect his name to be Damon Salvatore.

Warnings: For mature Audiences, themes of assault, drunk Damon (well isn't that new? Said no one ever.), uh, does a 'takes no shit' !reader count as a trigger?, Elena being a mysterious plot point

Words: 1.7k

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I watched Elena Gilbert make this weird expression at me... Caroline was saying something stupid, Bonnie was arguing with that judgemental gleam in her hazel eyes, but what caught my attention, was that foreboding purse of Elena's lips. The furrow of her flawless brow, the way her eyes sparked with something that scared me. It was almost hidden, she smiled wryly in my direction. Her eyes like daggers that penetrated my skull, it made me shiver; as I felt like I had been stripped bare of anything that belonged to me in that moment. Any ground or loyalty I had in our friend-group, I knew was gone, with the flick of Elena's hair behind her shoulder- my other friends hadn't even realised yet, but they would. Come morning I would be a stranger, even to my closest friends since kindergarten. I would be on the fringe of everything I used to know.

I was 12 when I stopped hanging out with the most popular girls in Mystic Falls. Strangley, I never regretted that day. What I had seen in my closest friend, that unexplainable glint about her that still gave me nightmares, had opened my eyes to something dark in the shitty little town I'd spent my entire life in. I said I'd never regretted that day, that was until the vampires came...

~~~~~

"Yes Care, i will be there before dark." I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing the annoying voice on the other end of the line to go bother someone else. "No, I did not tell Stefan." I responded dryly. Elena was in danger, yet again. Klaus was on the prowl, for the daggers, for Elena's blood, for all of us... And Caroline was bugging me about my communication skills. "Well seeing as I'm dropping these old spellbooks for Bonnie at the boarding house, I figure, 'Hey, why not kill two vampires with one study session from hell." I groaned internally as Caroline got heated over the phone. I slammed the back door to my dad's old Toyota corolla, opening the drivers side and collapsing into the leather seat. "Then take it up with someone who cares Caroline. Sorry, I'm driving through a tunnel, on an airplane, while hanging up the phone."

I can't even remember what I did with my phone, all I know is that I started my engine and reversed out of my driveway, heading for the outskirts of the town and towards the infamous Salvatore residence.

It had been 4 goddamm years since I called those girls my friends. I had seen an entire 'nother leap year, in the time it took for these bitches to deem me useful. I travled with my mom, Rome, Paris, India, Africa. I would've gotten my high-school diploma six months ago, if I hadn't had to move back to this ancient cesspool of a town.

And don't misunderstand me, that is the time it took for my life to go to crap. Vampires, the Salvatore Brothers, Elena... I shuddered in my seat, clenching my hands around the wheel as I thought about her.

I was so lost in my thoughts, that I jumped when I reached the boarding house. It was tall and looming, with an ominous darkness catching the corner of my eye. I sighed as I parked, readying myself for the chaos of the two people I despised more than Mystic High's Queen Bee. You see, in the last 6 months I had discovered something about myself, I was perceptive. Yes, I have always been a little more aware than perhaps usual, but it was more than that. I was something supernatural, I didn't know what but I did know that I could see magic, hear a vampires nearly imperceptible heartbeat and feel the forces of nature that others couldn't even dream about.

It was strange, knowing you could see other people when they never expected to be seen at all. I could read their faces, know their tells, pick apart their lies. It was why I was suddenly on the Mystic Falls supernatural hit-teams most wanted list. I could see. I scoffed as I pulled the back door of my car open. Heaving the heavy books into my arms, shifing my weight into my lower back as I ambled up the porch steps to the front door. If all these people needed me for was my sight, then these assholes should really get their eyes checked.

The door was already open, I ducked in sideways, trying to keep my balance while toppling books inched out of my grip. "Let me take those off your hands." I audibly groaned, the voice that assaulted my ears was silky smooth, like fine wine pouring into my ears.

"Damon, look what the bat dragged in." I couldn't see him over the pile of scripts and dusty memoirs of old witches, but I could hear his stupid smirk as he took the pile away from me.

"Still as snarky as ever Y/N. Didn't your mummy ever teach you to be nice to charming men who carry your books?" Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the foe-disdain in his voice, or the slight quicking pace in his pulse, of course, I'm not anyone else.

"Oh! That's what the karate classes were for." I looked at him now, this tall,brooding, Greek God of a man was attracted to me. Stupid I know. That's what I thought too, but I've never been wrong. Especially not since I came into my powers. Normally I would take the shot, go for it, but I had no chance. He was in love with his brothers girlfriend, a stupider decision if you ask me.

"Glad I've only ever seen you in action once or twice then." He smirked. I walked past him and into the living room. The fire was roaring, as I often found it was when Damon was alone on a Thrusday through Sunday afternoon. Where he was the rest of the time, I hadn't had the stomach to ask. I laughed unconvincingly.

"Didn't I almost shoot you in the face when you first tried to use me as a human pincushion?" He set the books down with a thud on the ornate coffee table. I set mine down with a far greater deal of grace. He frowned at me.

"Details, details. Besides," He took a step towards me, he smelled like alcohol and something else..."the way to a vampire, is always through his heart." He grabbed my hand, gently at first, clinging onto it as I tried to pull away. He made me touch his chest, it was firm and rising jaggedly with air he didn't need.

I glared at him. "You're drunk. Go leech on something else," i paused "leech." He laughed, it sent shivers down my spine, his eyes were deadly and cold. He pulled me flush against him. I wasn't unused to this radical "Damon Behavior", but there was something wild about his eyes. Something needy. To be honest, maybe I was needy too.

"Someone should teach you manners little lady." Or maybe not. I timed it perfectly, jutting my elbow out from between us into his diaphragm, he caught my arm, blocking it and shifting my upper body to the right. His lips found my ear, his breath tickled as he whispered into my hair. "One day that mouth of yours will bite off more than those pretty little lips can chew.

"Someone should teach you the modern cure for the insufferable womanizer." I spat. Then suddenly- I was on the couch, the fire crackled so loudly in my ears I thought my head would explode. Damon was leaning over me. His ebony hair feathered against his forehead, his lips were inches from mine, our breath mingled into each other. I felt his body become hotter above me, it was almost startling compared to his cool demeanor at the door. "Damon, please. Use at least one brain cell to think about this stupid decision you're making-"

He cut me off, "See that's the thing Y/N, you talk to me with that foul little mouth of yours and think it's okay. No one talks to me like that." For the first time in an agonizing ten minutes he looked away from me. "I never let anyone talk to me like that. But its like this-" if we had been having this conversation like normal people, I would've smiled at the hint of Italian in his accent. "I do let you. You drive me crazy. I hate you for that."

I tensed. "Well people who hate each other don't treat one another like this. So one of us is lying." I don't know if I knew who was lying to themselves between the both of us, but maybe that would give me enough of a chance to distract him and then-

And then he was kissing me. It was deep and firey. He moaned against my lips as he parted them with his tongue, his grip around my waist tightened as he explored my mouth. It all happened so quickly, I barely began to understand what was happening before "I don't like lying Y/N."

What the hell was that?

He bolted away from me and was on the other side of the room so fast he was only a blur. He started to say something, probably to shout at me in his drunken stupor, but I was quicker- "Did you say that out-loud?" I asked, I was breathless and disgusted and fascinated all in the span of 5 seconds.

He made a face at me. "The hell, "did I say that?" He mocked my question,he was agitated, borderline disbelieving. "I was in the middle of kissing you, moron. I did not say that. What the hell did you do?" He held his arms close to his chest, obviously he felt as violated as I did. I scowled at him.

"Then, moron, did you think it?" He looked at me with big, blue, question- filled eyes.

"I-"

"Y/N?" Shit, Bonnie, i glanced to the door. I turned back to the fireplace and the leather-clad, bad boy vampire was gone. I pinched the bridge of my nose... worst timing ever Bonnie Bennet...

What the hell just happened?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ta-da! Ooo la, la... I'm a sucker (haha, get it?) for mystery and suspense.

Did you like the little nudge towards something Elena related, without having to deal with like, Elena..?

But chill, there will be a little bit of everything for all you shippers.

I don't know where I'm going to take this story yet, so feel free to Ask, or request or whatever and maybe things will turn in your favour... :0

#tvd universe #blogger #damon salvatore #caroline forbes #elena gilbert #damon salvatore x reader #damon x reader #damon x elena #the vampire diaries #bonnie bennett #mystic falls #y/n #blogging #one shot #stefan salvatore

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danibee33 · 7 hours

Text

The Queen’s Guard - Chapter 8: Soot & Ash

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

cw: sa, non-con, some gore, generally dark themes *pls read at your own discretion*

>>parts in italics are flashbacks

You wake in a cold sweat- a shrill gasp carried away in the wind as you scramble to untangle yourself from the furs. In your fuss, you feel a familiar, strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a wonderfully warm embrace-

“Shh.. You’re alright- you’re safe-” Simon’s other arm comes to rest over your chest, providing a comforting weight as his lips press gentle kisses to your shoulder; softly shushing you again, “Another one?”

All you can do is nod, because, yes- it was another nightmare. Yes, you had been forced to relive that terrible moment over and over. At this point, you swear you feel as if the gods themselves are punishing you, manipulating your mind so that whenever your eyes close all you can see is blood- and when you take too deep a breath, all you can smell is soot and ash-

“Does it ever go away?” Your voice is broken and meak, turning in his arms so that you could nuzzle further into his chest- replace the metallic char with his rich, earthy scent, “Or will he always haunt me?”

Simon tightens his hold on you, gently tugging you into his lap, “No, sweet girl..”, he pets your hair before pushing it away from your face, “It will fade, I promise.”

Wiping your tears, you feel his whispered apology against the corner of your lips- replacing the words with a kiss, and then another.

You think about how many times he’s apologized for your part in what happened, quietly, genuinely- how he whispered it in your ear that first night. And again, when he found you spitting up bile and acid between sobs in the woods the morning after. You remember the way he and Johnny had shouted and hissed at one another on the third day, right before Johnny was to leave for the MacTavish estate again- he had to go play the part, sowing more seeds of doubt amongst your own people. Had to solidify his own alibi-

But that didn’t stop him from nearly trading blows with Simon. Didn’t stop him from telling Simon how you never should have been in that room, that you never should have been forced to see what you saw.

Only when you stepped between them once again, placing a palm over their chests as if you might actually have a chance at forcing them to do anything- did they finally concede, for your sake, of course.

Johnny had pulled you to the side after that, closer to the cliffs, your voices drowned out by the violent waves below you and the howling winds above, his lips so close to your ear that the heat of his breath sent chills down your spine,

“I’ll find you in the foothills in two weeks- all right?”

You both fell into your partly made up dialect as he held you close, his hands wrapped over your biceps and yours on his forearms- you could still feel the way his scruff tickled your skin, and how his nose dipped down to nuzzle into your neck as he spoke,

“Be careful, Grianach..

It had made your fingers dig into his flesh, and your eyes sting with tears as you leaned into him, pressing your cheek against his, “You be careful, Johnny.. please.”

And it felt so wrong to watch him ride away without even a glance back, because things had never felt more tenuous- you were caught in this odd limbo of overwhelming freedom and the suffocating fear of the unknown..

But, you couldn’t dwell on it, not when you had to focus on moving. You weren’t out of danger yet, the farther away you can get from the castle, the blood, the soot, and the ash- the better.

+++

“Your Grace-”, you’re intercepted by General Leon on your way to yet another meeting, and while it isn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, especially when the King is away, it does set you on edge, “I received a raven today.”

It’s not too difficult to keep your expression impassive, you’ve perfected it over the years after all , but your stomach sours at his pleased smile, “And what news did it bring, General?”

You glance around the long, light-filled hall, take in the grand tapestries hanging against the wall, the warm sunlight pouring in- Simon’s presence just hardly out of sight. And you know he’s scanning the surroundings as well, not to take in the view or look at the pretty sights, just alert, always alert.

Though, by the smallest shift in his weight, you think he’s picked up on your anxieties- waiting for the older Knight to speak again.

“His Grace is returning sooner than expected. Seems his tour of the front lines was cut short after an incident.”

Like a dutiful wife, you let your features morph into shock, playing into the actual horror you felt at the idea of the King being back any sooner than planned- he was still supposed to be out for another two months at the least, and now..

“What has happened?” You ask quickly, taking your lady-in-waiting’s hand in yours, needing something to anchor yourself to- you had to be a concerned wife, can’t let them know you wish he had just died out there- “Is the King all right?”

The General pats your shoulder, obviously uncomfortable with the way you seem to be teetering on the brink of tears, your breathing a bit labored. You were panicking, but not for the reason he thinks,

“He’s fine, Your Grace. Alive and unharmed- they didn’t even get close. Though the Kingsguard did suffer a casualty, they served him well.” He says, his tone almost jovial, so proud of his men and his monstrous King, “And may the gods bless the rest of his journey home.”

“Gods bless.” You give the traditional affirmation at the same time as your lady, Simon’s much deeper rasp lingering in the background.

“Well, a wonderful turn of events.. Truly wonderful. When should we expect his arrival, then? A feast is in order.” You say after a moment, clasping your hands together in order to hide the way they tremble.

“Two days time, my Queen.”

This time you can’t stop your eyes from darting up to meet Simon’s- but where you expect to see some sort of unease or worry in them, you only find the same unwavering gaze. Because to him, this news is nothing to worry about. No, not for the Ghost. His plans had already been in motion, since the night he pulled you from the balcony's edge, he saw it so clearly. Simon knew exactly what needed to be done.

Sure, this is an unexpected obstacle, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s better this way. The sooner he could kill the King, the sooner you would be safe, the sooner he could get you away from all this.

The sooner you would be all his.

———

The night of the feast was upon you faster than you ever could’ve thought possible. The King would be arriving any moment, the festivities already booming with life in the Great Hall.

But here you are, pacing a path into the stone floor. Worrying at your cuticles so that you don’t tangle your fingers in your perfectly set hair- half of the long waves pulled back into an intricate braided pattern, with jewels and emerald ribbon woven throughout. But every step feels too heavy, too cumbersome, your gown creating friction behind you, and your chest tight from the pull of the corset.

“Sunny..” Johnny calls to you from his place by the window- when he found out the King would be returning so soon, and Simon’s plan of what would be happening next, he had stayed at your side. Hidden in your chambers or the tunnels while you were away-

“What if it goes wrong? What if you both get caught, what if he’s able to call out-”

In long, easy strides, he’s right there- pulling your hand away into his own to stop your self-destructive cycle with a disapproving tut, “Grianach- stop, stop. Look at me, aye?”

You do stop, but only because his hold is ironclad, and his eyes are as piercing as ever as they demand your attention, “I know you trust us..”, you nod, “We’ve both done this before- and crown, or no crown, it makes no difference to a sword. You only need to worry about bein’ in that tunnel as soon as y’ get the signal..”

He makes it sound so simple, just another day- just another thing to cross off the list. But.. you know he’s right, you know he’s done it before, too many times to keep count. Your sweet Johnny was an accomplished and revered leader on the battlefield, and your own personal guard, while his past is still shrouded in mystery even to you, has obviously led a long and successful career doing the same.

And of course, you don’t fault them for being exactly what was asked of them, thinking back to Johnny’s words, they were the ones who had been fighting your wars, right? So, disposing of one man.. Well, that should be almost too easy for them-

“But-”

Johnny cups your face again, that newly founded tension flickering to life as he looks down at you, the darkness in his gaze turning into something more familiar as he cracks a lopsided grin, “Always such a worrywart.”

He cranes his neck, lowering his head so that he could be eye to eye, “Ye don’t have to worry about me- we’re not kids anymore..”

Two curt knocks tear you away from each other, looking over to see Simon taking up nearly the entire entryway, gilded eyes lazily moving between you and the man at your side,

“My Queen..”, he cocks his head subtly, “It’s time.”

There’s something in the moment that seems to fortify you- the roiling in your gut calms, and the unrelenting thoughts go quiet as you give a single nod. If they can be so unfazed by this, so confident and immovable, then so could you. You would walk out of this room as the most powerful woman in the kingdom, and you would play your part to change your future.

For the first time in your life, you’ve been granted the opportunity to decide your fate. And who would you be to give up such a blessing?

So with one final, deep breath, you move towards the door- stopping at Simon’s side only long enough to spare a fleeting glance back, seeing Johnny’s eyes steady on you, full of determination.

But when you’re well enough out of the room, out of earshot, Johnny darkly calls to the Knight,

“Queen’s Guard-“, he barks, glaring as the hulking man halts, turning only enough to meet the Lord’s eye, “Don’t let her out of your sight. Not for a second.”

And Simon has to admit he’s impressed with the brazen man, the lengths he’s gone to, and how much farther he’s ready to go, is admirable, if not more than a little grating on his nerves. And don’t think that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t felt, the dynamic shift between you.. knowing that Johnny had been spending his nights in your rooms has thoroughly irked Simon to no end.

But, that’s a problem for another time- right now, they just needed to trust each other; nothing more, nothing less. So, that’s why instead of grunting out some crass comment like he so badly wants to do, Simon gives a singular, purposeful nod before striding out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him.

The rattling sound causes you to turn, meeting Simon’s eye and seeing them a shade darker than you’re used to- the mottled amber all but glowing behind the helm, his hand clenching into a fist and his cloak billowing and swaying with every even step forward. You can’t pause for long though, forced to quickly resume your pace as he falls in just to your right, three steps behind, as always.

Keeping your eyes forward, you sweep through the castle halls, your shoulders straight and your head held high- you would meet the King as not the broken, weary woman he left behind, but as the Queen he never deserved in the first place.

The Queen that has always been strong enough to carry the kingdom all this time, that has done just that, even when it felt as though your bones might snap under the weight of it all- it had always been you. You just lost sight of that strength, lost sight of the power you truly hold, in your kindness and patience, just as much as in your discipline and judgment.

“The King has arrived!” General Leon’s brassy voice booms and echoes off the stone, followed by the faint shuffling of cloth and leather, steel and chainmail straining as those around you take a knee, “All hail the King.”

The doors swing open ceremoniously, even if it is just you and the highest ranking members of court there, your husband had always demanded an abundance of fanfare-

He waltzes in with a bored smirk, looking down his nose at even those who aid him until he sees you, and you know you’ll remember the way his eyes widen as he takes you in for the rest of your life. You revel in it, commit it to memory for the precious few moments he looks back at you with something akin to shock-

Sure, you still accented yourself in his house color, you could not be so bold as to forgo it completely- you didn’t want to draw too much attention, but a statement needed to be made and judging his expression, you had succeeded.

Because instead of his traditional deep green covering you from head to toe, you wore a dazzling gown made of the deepest ebony silk the modistes could find, the only hints of emerald and gold on you being the rings on your fingers and the gemstones and satins in your hair,

“Welcome home, my King.” You bow your head graciously as the others rise to their feet once more.

He steps right up to you, and you resist the overwhelming urge to flinch, to put distance between you and him, to slap his hand away as he traces a finger down along your sleeve, “Bold choice, wife..”, he says before grabbing your hand, lifting the soft skin to his lips, “I like it.”

You hide your sneer with a saccharine smile, acting as though his touch doesn’t make you physically ill, “I look forward to hearing about your time on the front, Your Grace.”

Again, the King kisses your hand, a predatory gleam darkening his eyes- one you only get a glimpse of before he’s turning you around, his arm held out so that he may escort you toward the Great Hall. And it’s then you see Simon’s gleaming eyes as well, stoney and burning with a lethal rage,

“Ah, Ser Simon Riley.. You’re still here.” The King drawls without even a look in the guard’s direction, the taller man falling in on your flank as accustomed before answering,

“Always, Your Grace.”

—---

The feast seems to drag on almost out of spite, you swear. The King had been determined to parade you around, his snide, passively belittling comments only adding to your disdain, your wish to be done with this- yet, it is that same thought that causes your heart to race the longer the night goes on, an hour closer, a minute, a second. You felt like you might be torn apart by your own anticipation, your fear of what’s to come-

Tap, tap … tap, tap, tap

You hear the comforting taps more than you have in a long while, and there’s even a moment when the King has stopped in the crowd, his feet growing more unsteady underneath him that you feel Simon’s hand reach out to preemptively pull you away from the stumbling man; his touch lingering just a breath longer than they should,

“Husband?”, you giggle, forcing a bit of drunken giddiness into your actions and voice, “Maybe we should head to bed, you’ve had such a long journey-”

His wine-laden breath assaults your senses, his lips grazing over your jaw, “That excited to get me in bed, wife?”, you roll your eyes, placing two hands on his chest in an attempt to keep him from falling into you, “Missed my cock, hm? Filthy fucking whore-”

There’s a deep growl behind you, one you’ve grown quite fond of, though it’s never sounded so animalistic, deep and menacing- and you can practically feel how his self control strains, tested to its limit as Simon is forced to listen and watch. But, you’re doing so well, taking every vile thing the King says, every horrifically inappropriate grope and touch, in stride; your grace and virtue never waning.

“Well, c’mon then-”, your husband rasps in your ear before turning towards the group around you, “If you’ll pardon us, m’ladies and lords, I have been away for quite some time.”

You grimace at the way he jerks you into his side, his hand wandering over your hip to rest on the swell of your ass- the wolfy grin on his face conveying all the lewd and lascivious context they might need to know exactly what their sovereign is alluding to. It makes the churning in your stomach return with force, and your blood run hot with anger-

Though you feel the moment it turns frigid, no more than ice cutting through your veins. It’s when he escorts out of the hall, forcefully dismissing your ladies and his own guard, turning on Simon last,

“Well, go on, you’re not needed for this, I’m afraid.” He says, waving his hand at your Knight like one might a stray dog, “Unless you like to watch.”

The empty hall reverberates with his laugh, his grip on your tightening painfully- fingers digging into your side so hard you’re sure to have bruises by morning, “My King-”, you try to soothe him, but it dawns on you now, and Simon, too, that the plan was slowly unraveling.

“No, that’s fine! What a good dog you have, wife. Tell him he can watch, if he so wishes-”

You look back to where Simon is still following, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his dagger, “No, of course not.”, you give a quick nod, hoping you can send the message clearly enough that you were about to upend everything, “My rooms are closer, shall we go there?”

And the moment you speak the words, he understands what you were doing- this wouldn’t be happening in the King’s chambers, but yours. He needs to get Johnny, and get to the tunnels,

“You are relieved, Ser Simon. I bid you a good night..”

Simon hesitates for the first time in his life, looking at you and seeing the resolve in your gaze, the overwhelming faith you have in him. You look at him in a way he’s never seen, not with fear or trepidation like he’s so used to, like he’s always preferred, but with such trust and reverie that he fears he could never live up to the grand idea you seem to have of him.

“Good night, My Queen.”

—--

By the time you’re at your door, the King is openly groping you- his hands rough and needy as he pulls at your corset ties, grunting as he nips and bites at your flesh,

“Black, hm? Making your own choices, that it?”

Very suddenly, he heaves you up, his mouth still on you, happily leaving a trail of angry little marks as he carries you across the space and throws you on the bed- you say his name, the hints of desperation and panic spurring him on as he climbs over top of you,

“You think just because you get to pretend to be King while I’m away, that you’re anything more than a warm hole? Nothin’ but a pretty little cocksleeve-”

You’re crushed under his weight, the sensations all too much, and all in the worst of ways, “Enough-”

You push against him, try to bring your knees up, to wiggle away, but in a flash your wrists are in his grasp and forced uncomfortably over your head, “Tsk, tsk, tsk- none of that now, you just be a good whore and take what I give you.”

“Get. Off.” With how hard you’re clenching your teeth, the words come out as a hiss, your eyes searching for anything, mind racing with how you can get out of this as the room fills with his laugh.

“Or what?”

Faster than you can blink, the weight is lifted off you in a single go- the King’s surprised yelp resounding in your ears and hands pulling you off the bed. Johnny’s hands, gently tugging you to your feet and pushing you back towards the tunnel- “I’ve got you, I got you-”, he says it over and over, a small tinge of fear and loathing in his own voice.

Those same hands deftly skim over you, tilting your head from one side to the other, as he tries to rearrange your bodice- which had been pulled apart and stretched to have your breasts almost completely exposed,

“Oh, Sunny..”

Your face burns with so many emotions- unbridled fear and anger, and now shame and embarrassment, his gentle voice trying to coax you, to reassure you, but it seems to just make it so much worse. You want to shove him away, you want to scream and claw at your skin; you think you want to cry, but there are no tears, you simply don’t have it in you to feel sorry anymore. For yourself, for what’s happened before this night, what’s going to happen-

“I fucking knew it.” The King chuckles from his knees, sword at his throat, “The wretched Scottish whor--”

The insult turns into a garbled choking sound when Simon’s hand wraps around his throat, effectively depriving him of oxygen and blood as he lifts him up until his toes are just barely grazing against the floor,

“What a king you are..”, Simon croons, his head cocking to the side- and the way he looks up at him reminds you of the mean old barn cat from your childhood, the one that would toy with his food, playing with it until he grew bored, “Tell me, Your Grace, are you enjoyin’ this?”

Johnny tries to turn you away, to urge back to the tapestry, to where you should be- where you would be safe, but you just can’t go. That awful, angry part of you wants to see the King suffer, wants to see him hurt just like he had hurt you.

“Grianach, please go. You go exactly where we told you to go-“

A thick gasping and sputtering echoes around you then, both of you turning to see Simon throw the grown man to the ground like it’s nothing. Stepping over his body, he finally looks up, pupil blown eyes boring into your own- like he’s searching, seeking, for an answer, for something. He holds it long enough to see your nod, long enough to gain your approval before he picks up his sword,

“You had everything.”, he says, looking down at the King, “And yet-“

Johnny’s hand clamps over your mouth as you watch the blade come down in one swift motion- sinking into the yielding flesh and muscle of your husband’s chest, crimson oozing around the dark steel, staining the hideous, priceless rug beneath him,

“..you took it all for granted.”

You know you hear Simon’s voice, hear the familiar gravel deepen- but, at the same time, it is entirely unrecognizable in your ears. He sounds so cold, so calculated in every syllable that drips from his tongue.

And the most errant thought crosses your mind, that maybe this is the past he so adamantly avoids with you, with anyone for that matter. Maybe it’s this other version of him, a version that is devoid of humanity, callous and brutal-

“You took her for granted.”

There’s only the briefest reflective glint of his blade as a warning- but this time, Johnny forces you to look away, framing your face in his hands so that he’s the only things you can see. His palms covering your ears help to muffle the disgusting squelch of sinew and tendons being severed, the awful sound of vertebrae forcefully separating.

It all sounds so loud until there’s just.. Nothing. No one speaks, you can hardly even hear your own shallows breaths,

“M’eudail, look at me- please, look at me.”

You do look up, but you just can’t seem to focus, your mind too hazed to see his features clearly,

“He- he’s gone.” You mumble, your tongue too thick in your mouth, and your voice quivering,

“It’s done.”

#fic: the queens guard #knight!ghost #and his queen #medieval au #alternate universe #call of duty #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #lord mactavish #eventual smut #cod fandom #I need them in unhealthy ways #eventually we’ll see price and gaz I promise #ao3 fanfic #also on ao3 #simon riley x reader #reader is the queen #fem reader

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3-2-whump · 2 days

Text

(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 3

<prev

Well, you made it this far, so I guess I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. Heed the tags, decide for yourself.

Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip, or if You Skipped the Previous Installments

Thanks goes out to @whumped-by-glitter my beta reader and angst advisor for helping me out when I got stuck on this one!

TW/CW: blood (lots of it), rape/noncon aftermath, hypovolemic shock, medical whump, stitches (not described in detail), emotional whump, guilty whumper, whumper grows a conscience (?)

Thomas stared at his bloodied hands, at the bloodied knife, at the mess of reopened scars on Khaled’s bloody back below him. The air stank heavily of blood like a slaughter house, and the only audible sound was a faint yet desperate murmuring. “I didn’t kill him…I didn’t kill him…I didn’t kill him…”

What have I done?

The knife fell to the floor with a clatter as Thomas quickly untied Khaled’s hands. He rolled the boy onto his side, unsticking his front from the cooling blood that had pooled between him and the table top. The small, broken body felt unusually cold under his hands. “Boy, hey –Khaled?” He pulled the torn strip of t-shirt away from his neck and ripped off the blindfold to see glassy, unfocused, tear-reddened eyes. “Khaled, talk to me,” Thomas begged. He raised a hand to lightly slap the boy’s cheek, but lowered it when he saw his lower face painted in blood, saliva, snot, and tears. The dainty golden septum ring in his broken nose gleamed an accusatory red under the cellar lights.

“I didn’t kill him…I didn’t kill him…” Khaled murmured through a ruined throat.

“I know, I know, shh, shh, I know,” Thomas whispered. Of course, Khaled didn’t kill his squad or his brother, and neither did that kid. And he was so close to repeating history and murdering another innocent boy –Thomas thought he would be sick.

“I didn’t kill him…” Khaled whimpered.

“I know you didn’t kill him,” Thomas replied, his own voice becoming gravelly with emotion. He fumbled for his cellphone, disregarding the bloodstains he would get on his clothes by digging through his pockets. Once he found it, he scrolled to a familiar name in his contacts and pressed ‘call.’

Lenore picked up after only two rings, answering with a brusque greeting. “What?”

“Don’t ask too many questions, but do you have any openings at your clinic right now?” Thomas asked, trying to keep his composure as he talked. “It’s Khaled, I think I hurt him bad.”

A static-laced sigh, then a response. “You know the only questions I ask clients are medically related ones. Now, what are we dealing with here?”

“Um, blood loss –like, a lot of blood loss,” Thomas felt the need to clarify. He took a steadying breath before listing off the rest of the injuries. “Deep lacerations, broken nose,” –his eyes wandered down to the blood trickling out of Khaled’s hole – “nothing too obvious after that, from the looks of it.”

“How is his heart rate? His breathing?” Lenore asked, before directing, “Look at his tongue, the area under his eyes, his skin, do they look pale to you?”

Thomas took the time to check these things, ever more concerned at how limply Khaled accepted his touches. He still had that distant look in his eyes, and even though no sound came out, his pale lips still formed the words ‘I didn’t kill him’ over and over.

Thomas readdressed the doctor. “His heart rate is fast, his breathing is too, and yeah, he is very pale all over. Should I bring him to you?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m gonna call you an ambulance, it’ll be quicker.”

Thomas sighed. He cast a worried glance at the catatonic boy lying on the table. He’d rather not get any of the local hospitals involved, but Lenore said it would be quicker, which meant they were on a time sensitive crunch. Did he really hurt the kid that badly?

“Thomas!”

He was not aware she was speaking to him. “S-sorry, what?” he mumbled into the phone.

“Where are you located?” she repeated.

“At the old house, you know the one.” He listed off the address for her in case she did not. As soon as she hung up with a promise to call an ambulance, he put his phone back in his pocket and refocused his attentions on the boy. Khaled had stopped muttering, at least, and now he slumped against the table as his eyelids began to droop closed.

“Oh, baby –come here.” The boss shed his coat and draped it over the boy’s sliced-up back. It was already ruined with blood stains anyway; what were a few more? Now with his wounds covered, Thomas scooped Khaled into his arms and carried him up the stairs, far away from the T & I cellar that would spark too many unwanted questions from the EMTs.

“And you’re saying… a ‘mountain bike accident’ caused this?”

Med student Vikash Gill received a reprimanding side-eye from his supervisor, who was obviously not happy with his tone. But what Vik was unhappy about was this young man, coming in stark naked with a bloodied face and a back carved open like a Thanksgiving turkey, and this older man, who obviously looked like he had money and power and some sort of relationship with the patient.

“He crashed his bike, in the mountains,” the older man repeated, his tone clipped and concise.

The young man beside him remained silent, hardly even acknowledging his surroundings. Something was wrong with this picture… Vik lowered his skeptical gaze back to his chart again. “Well, it seems the EMTs already gave him a transfusion, reset his broken nose, and stopped the major wounds from bleeding on the way here,” he assessed, “so it looks like we’ll just have to give him some stitches. May I confer with my supervisor for a minute?”

The man waved him off, which was all the permission Vikash needed to disappear outside the examination room and discuss what he had just seen.

Dr. Helen Kimura commanded a powerful air of authority, despite only standing as high as her young student’s chest. “What was that?” she demanded, squinting up at him through her glasses. Vik had to swallow down his instant defense mechanism; he felt like he was being scolded by his mother. “You know we don’t use that kind of tone with our patients!”

“You and I also know that no ‘biking accident’ caused those injuries!” Vikash argued. “Didn’t you see those bruises? What kind of ‘biking accident’ causes bruises like those?!”

Dr. Kimura rubbed her brow as she took a breath to compose herself. “Look, you’re new to this city, Vik, so I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt that you don’t know who that man is,” she began, “but that man in there –that’s Thomas Costa. You know, of the insurance group? The guy that owns like a third of this city? Big time philanthropist, donates his massive fortune to the arts and sciences and medicine.” She paused, eyebrows raised, waiting for her young pupil to catch the drift.

Whether Vik didn’t catch it, or just didn’t care, he bullheadedly continued. “But, we have to do something,” he insisted with conviction, “we’re-”

“We are doctors, not detectives,” Kimura interrupted, an authoritative finality in her words. “You want to do something? You patch that kid up, along with all Costa’s other men, and you send them on their way, no questions asked!”

A hint of fear flickered behind his supervisor’s eyes. Vik gulped nervously, casting a glance at the examination room they just left. “How much did he donate to this hospital?” he whispered.

Kimura refused to answer.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Thomas watched the med student stitch up Khaled’s back. All this time waiting and watching left him alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts went to places he didn’t want them to go.

He lost himself back there, lost control –no, that was just an excuse. He wanted to lose himself, wanted to pin everything on that boy, but Khaled had nothing to do with it. Admittedly, it felt good to take out all that pent-up emotion, all that grief, anger, and despair, to finally channel all that toxicity and pain out from himself and dump it somewhere else –onto someone else.

He glanced at the boy he had bought nearly seven years ago. He remembered the scared child who could barely look him in the eyes. Now, nearly seven years later, the boy stared tiredly at him through tear-stained eyes. It seemed the child was right to fear him in the past, considering how close he came to killing him in the present.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas murmured. He reached over to hold Khaled’s hands in his. The rope burns brought unnecessary attention to the tattoos on his boy’s wrists, lining the black bands top to bottom with angry red chafe marks. Khaled made no effort to pull his hands away as a pair of dark eyes stared into his, uncertain and guarded behind their lashes. He cringed a little, sensing only a fraction of the damage he’d done to his key to redemption, not just this one time, but over years and years of using the boy as a punching bag and a fleshlight. “I am so, so sorry,” he repeated, a little louder.

“You’re sorry?” Khaled hollowly repeated. A rough, scratchy sound scraped out of the boy’s ruined throat. Even the act of laughing sounded painful for him. “Did you smash my head against the table harder than I’d realized? Since when do you apologize, Master?”

Over his shoulder, the med student’s eyes widened a hair as he determinedly continued his work behind them. Thomas had to regain control of the situation, spin the narrative. “I owe you a much more specific apology when we get home, I’ll admit,” he replied, hinting at the unsuspecting stranger patching up the boy’s back. “But for now, all I’ll say is that I went too far. I realize that now, and for that, I am sorry.”

Khaled gave him a skeptical frown, but remained silent. His thinking face was on, with his eyebrows drawn and his eyes slightly narrowed, chewing his lower lip subtly between his teeth. The young med student behind him had finally finished the stitches and applied the new gauze. He rattled off a list of care tips and recommendations to follow to take care of the wounds and prevent complications before hurriedly leaving the two alone. Thomas lifted Khaled off the table and helped him change into the spare clothes the hospital had on hand for emergencies. “Can I, um, get you anything?” he asked awkwardly, finally pulling the ugly secondhand sweater over Khaled’s bandaged torso.

The boy finally answered after a thoughtful moment. “…Nico…”

The gate guard? Thomas wondered. Honestly, not how he expected the boy to answer that question at all. He then felt a slight pang of guilt when he remembered Nico was the only friend his slave ever had. “You want to see your friend again?”

A small nod.

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged, “I’m sure I could make that happen.”And even though he had no reason to lean on him of all people, Khaled leaned onto the boss’ arm, resting his head on his shoulder as Thomas led them out.

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#whump writing #tw blood #tw rape/noncon aftermath #medical whump #tw blood loss #tw stitches #emotional whump #guilty whumper #whumper develops a conscience! more details at 11 #is it any wonder i went on a fluff writing binge after this?

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