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professional-yapper · 2 months

Note

Aonung x Albino reader? 🙏🙏

Burn

Aonung x Albino! Reader

Warnings: sunburn ig?, awkward Aonung (he can't flirt to save his life this is true James Cameron told me himself), teasing as flirting, the tribe they're from is giving cult x

"This is stupid, Vipka," you huffed, ducking under a branch as you followed your twin brother's ghostly figure closer and closer to the edge of the dark forest that your tribe inhabited.

"Don't be a wuss!" he called back, flashing you a sharp grin. "We might find something cool!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, or we'll find something dangerous, get ourselves killed, and end up in the Nothing. Eywa's word is that we stay here, in the Dark, where it's safe."

Vipka rolled his eyes right back, bounding towards you, grabbing your arms and giving you a little shake. "That's what the elders say. If Eywa wanted us to stay here, she wouldn't have made me so curious about what's out there."

You gritted your teeth, but couldn't find a proper response to that beyond a muttered, "That's blasphemous." And you relented, following your stupid, reckless brother towards the edge of the forest.

Not that you were sure there even was an edge. After all, no one besides the elders actually knew. You and Vipka were only heading in the direction that the elders went in when they left the village for reasons you and Vipka weren't allowed to know.

It really could just be the forest, going on forever and ever, and you would keep going until you went crazy.

A silent prayer formed on your lips, to Eywa, who had cared for your people even after they had been foolish enough to burn their Spirit Tree down. All that was left of the centuries-old catastrophe was a charred old stump held in reverence.

Once, your uncle had whispered a story to you of tribes far away, where the sun shone brightly and their Spirit Trees grew strong, and they could even connect with their dead through the Trees themselves. It seemed fantastical to you, who had grown up knowing upon death your people would go into the Nothing and never be heard from again. Eywa's punishment for her disobedient children.

But after all... You wondered if it could be true. If you and Vipka walked far enough, would you find a tribe with no Nothing, with a Spirit Tree that grew and flourished and kept their ancestors safe?

You didn't know whether to hope so or not. Would you even be able to return home once the elders discovered yours and Vipka's disobedience? Perhaps Eywa would punish the tribe again. Maybe your family personally.

Once again you called for Vipka, but he ignored you and his pale, slender form disappeared into the trees, running now, fuelled by the adrenaline of doing something so forbidden.

Not that this was forbidden, just wandering through the Dark. But it wasn't really the Dark, anymore. The dark green of the foliage had bled away into a lighter hue, punctuated with bursts of colours. Flowers and plants and fruits that you shied away from, eyes wary as you picked your way through this new world.

You shielded your eyes against the strange light filtering through the trees, golden and hot against your skin, which was already taking on a queer pink tint that you recognised vaguely.

The elders were often this shade when they returned to the tribe. Vipka had overheard them calling it... the Burn?

You couldn't be sure, but you covered your flushed arms with your hands and kept going.

A squeal suddenly pierced the warm silence, and you froze, ears dipping and tail waving with brisk worry. "Vipka?" you called, taking a few stilted steps towards the source of the sound.

Another squeal, but definitely not Vipka. An animal of some kind. And voices. Loud, cheerful, calling to one another as they got closer, evidently following the squealing thing.

Hunters, maybe.

Not from your tribe, for sure.

You began backing up, preparing to turn and run like hell all the way back home. Vipka could keep going for all you cared, could be caught and eaten alive by the tribes beyond the Dark.

A large animal burst out of the undergrowth and you shrieked in fright, leaping back and colliding with something or someone, falling down in a jumble of arms and legs.

The animal veered away at your cry, thundering in a different direction.

"Damn!" the thing that had fallen down with you swore, shoving you off unceremoniously. "You scared it away, skxwang!"

"Fuck you!" you spluttered furiously, climbing to your feet and rubbing your lower back. You were angry. Fucking furious.

But then the strange Na'vi stood up, and you considered that it might not be a good idea to square up with him.

He was built like a tree. Broad and muscular and a weird shade of blue. Twice your size, at least. Could absolutely crush you into dust.

You didn't want to stick around and find out.

But before you could run, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back, staring at you hard with his weird pale eyes, dark curls plastered to his brow, entire body covered in sweat. "What are you?" he asked.

You shoved him in the chest, but he barely shifted, which was a solid blow to your ego. You were one of the stronger members of the tribe, and it scared you to think Na'vi of his size and strength were roaming wild out here.

Why would the elders ever come out here?

"You're one of those white Na'vi, right? From the deep forest on the other side of Awa'atlu?" he prompted, ears flattening as you kept quiet.

You stiffened. "How do you know that?"

"Your people- what do you mean, how do I know that? Your people come and talk with my dad all the time. You should probably cover up, by the way. You guys burn real easy," he added, tone almost friendly as he released your arm, seemingly realising it wasn't helping.

He knew? He knew of your people. He knew of the Dark. He knew the elders.

"But you're, like, my age," he continued, tilting his head. "I thought your people were all old and wrinkly. That's why you're white, yeah?"

You frowned. "Only the elders ever leave the Dark," you said slowly, wondering just how much you should tell this boy.

He chuckled, a surprisingly reassuring sound, even though he was holding a spear with the other hand. "What's the Dark? Is that what you call the place you're from?"

You nodded.

"So you guys don't see the sun much, huh?" he said carefully, glancing up at the blazing white spot in the sky above.

A swift shake of the head, and you didn't bother to follow his eyes. You could feel the sun well enough as is. Your skin felt flushed, hot, and it stung when you touched it.

Though the pink was a nice colour, you had to ask. "Is it poisonous?" you asked, trying to keep the distress out of your voice, running your fingers down your arm.

Another warm chuckle, and now he was looking at you with interest, which made your heart beat a little quicker. "No, you're just burning. Sunburn, you know? Cause you don't see the sun much-"

"Ever," you interjected briefly, stealing a glance above, at the great blue mass above you that went on forever, careful to keep your eyes away from the sun, though spots still danced in your eyes when you looked back at him.

He blew out a breath, curls jumping off his forehead briefly. "Okay. So you're from a freaky tribe where you've never seen the sun and live in the dark all the time, in the forest where the leaves are so thick the sun can't get through... What are you doing here? Did you run away?"

"Kind of?" you said, wondering what he was doing as he turned and scooped up a knife off the floor, then turned and started walking. Should you follow him?

"Are you coming?" he called back, gesturing for you to follow. When you caught up, he gestured for you to keep talking.

"I was following my brother Vipka. Leaving the Dark was his idea. He wanted to know where our elders go," you continued, tongue growing looser the more time you spent with this strange boy. Which might've been a bad thing. "Eywa cursed him with curiosity."

The boy nodded slowly, absorbing this. "And where's your brother now?"

"He ran ahead and I lost him," you shrugged. "But he'll turn up, either at your village or back home, if he gives up."

"I'm Aonung," the boy said briskly.

You told him your name, and he repeated it back to you carefully, grinning like it was an inside joke between you two.

"I'll take you home with me, then," Aonung shrugged. "My mother will know what to do. I- we can look after you till your elders return to my village." The tips of his ears flushed and you smiled, pleased with the sight, though you didn't know why.

"Sounds good," you hummed.

"Are all girls in your tribe as pretty as you?" he asked abruptly, looking straight forward as if scared to see your expression.

You blinked, then smiled again, wider, flushing, though you thought he probably wouldn't be able to tell since you were so 'sunburnt'. "Dunno," you chuckled. "I'll bring you home with me one day and you can see for yourself."

"I don't think they are," he said, glancing down at you and smiling, lips curling downwards.

"You haven't even seen them yet!"

"No, but I trust my gut," he said, slapping his abs with a proud look

"Oh, yeah? Was it your gut that made you run into me, too?"

"That- that was fate. Mother Eywa intended it."

"Or maybe Eywa cursed you with clumsiness. A deadly combination with how short-sighted you apparently are," you teased.

He gave you a little push, laughing. "Shut up! Why were you just standing there, is my question!"

You pushed him back, not bothering to put any effort into it, as the results remained the same and he didn't break his stride. "I've never been this far from home! I was taking in the scenery!"

"Taking in the scenery," he scoffed. "Take in this scenery." He got close to your face, which was probably meant to be intimidating but only made your ears drop bashfully, tail curling against your calf, suddenly shy as his nose almost bumped into yours.

He lingered for a moment, then seemed to realise his theatrics had gone wrong and backed up. "I mean- sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, it's okay, I like that scenery just fine too," you grinned, and he rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

"What?" you taunted, following him as he kept walking, more than happy to tease the hell out of him. "I thought you wanted me to take in the scenery!"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

I'm patenting this tribe actually, this freaky albino tribe, because I want to write lore for it. Let me know if anyone wants to read said lore. Enjoy anon! I had fun with the world-building!

#aonung #aonung fanfiction #avatar #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #aonung x reader #aonung avatar #aonung x you #avatar x you #fanclan #avatar fanmade clan #avatar fanclans

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captain-mj · 3 months

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Okay, so I'm very sick rn, and could use an order of Fluff, please.

Maybe some GhostSoap where Ghost gets deliriously sick and is having hallucinations, and Soap just stays there and comforts him through it all?

Wrote this while a tiny bit depressed so I hope you like it

Ghost never got sick. He just didn't. The mask kept him from getting most airborne illnesses (presumably) and he was careful to never get infections.

But somehow. Someway. He had... something. Didn't matter. The fever that wracked his body was vicious and cruel.

Soap was currently sitting with him and fretting. He was muttering about medicine and what to do and stuff that made Ghost's head hurt.

Someone... spoke. His head jerked towards it but it didn't repeat.

"Simon." Soap called to him, putting his hand on his warm cheek. "You're burning up." His voice sounded very far away.

Gentle hands laid him down. For a moment, he felt like a kid again, safe and sound in his mom's arms. He heard someone whimper and wondered if Soap had hurt himself.

Soap carefully tapped his cheek and he opened his mouth on command. A pill was slipped into his mouth and then some cold water followed. Ghost closed his eyes and drifted.

Something called to him again. Speaking to him sweetly. "You need to get up."

Ghost grunted, his head aching. The hand came back, gently running through his hair.

The voice faded to a soft humming. One of the Beatle's songs. His mom's favorite.

Ghost softly hummed along and he swore he could smell her perfume.

Her absence hit him hard as the perfume disappeared. He keened softly, reaching out for her hand again. When he was sick as a kid, she'd give him plain toast and maybe a cup of tea until he felt up for soup. Always the same. Some cheap mix of chicken and vegetable.

Ghost wanted that. He wanted her hand on his hair and his childhood bedroom.

Soap kissed his forehead. "Simon. Why do you look so sad?"

Ghost looked at him and winced. "Johnny... Please don't leave me."

"Hey, I'm not going to leave ya. Gonna stay right here."

Ghost grabbed his hand and kissed his wrist.

"You're burning up." Soap said softly. He grabbed a rag that he dipped in cold water and gently puts it to his forehead. "I'm worried about you."

"No medics. Please."

Soap smiled sadly. "Alright. I'll stay with you until you feel better." He gently put the rag on his cheek and then on his throat.

Ghost groaned softly in relief and smiled. "Thank you. I love you." He missed Soap's sad look.

The hallucinations could not be kind. They couldn't stay as just a sign of grief.

A skeleton stood there. It watched him. Body unnatural.

It popped it's head off and held it out to him.

"Your mother's skull. You killed her."

Ghost closed his eyes tight, afraid.

"Your brother's rib cage. You killed him too."

Ghost covered his ears and the whimpering came again. It didn't occur to him that he could make those noises.

Soap put his arms around him and pulled him to his chest. "I got you, Simon. I got you."

Ghost shivered hard and he pulled up just long enough to take off his shirt. He pressed into Soap's body, feeling the heat rolling off of him. When he tentatively opened his eyes, there was nothing there.

Soap kissed his sweaty hair. "Later, we'll take a shower okay?"

Ghost turned around and hugged on to him, face buried into his skin. "I love you."

"Stop saying that. You're only saying that because you're delirious."

"I'm sorry. I guess I should say it more often. Don't want you to doubt that." Ghost rubbed against him like a cat.

Soap sighed softly and gently ran his hands up and down his back. "Alright, Simon."

Ghost rested against him, enjoying the warmth. Later, he might put on his mask and pretend this never happened. But the part of him that he normally kept shoved down really hoped he wouldn't. He hoped he'd kiss Soap sober and say he loved him again until he realized he was telling the truth.

But for now, his whole body felt like it was on fire. His head hurt. His muscles were sore. So he rested there, safe and sound and with Johnny's heartbeat in his ears.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

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andvys · 11 months

Text

We'll burn the sky | part fourteen

Warnings: angst, mentions of drugs, alcohol, heartbreak, mentions of unrequited feelings

Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!reader

Summary: The hope of things getting better gets crushed too soon.

Word count: 6k+

Author note: In the fic, readers dad sang the song 'Hey Jude' by The Beatles. Also shoutout to @mysticmunson who made an article and a cover for a magazine for this fic!

Series Masterlist

It took a lot of convincing for you to join Eddie and the others for their friends' Christmas. While you got along with all of them and became friends with them quickly, you still felt like you would be intervening. They have been friends for years and you had only joined their group recently. None of them accepted a no from you though, the teens were begging you to come and so were Eddie and Robin. You and Steve haven’t talked since Wednesday night and you began to miss him.

Now you are here, surrounded by your new friends at Robin’s place. Her living room smells like the pine from the Christmas tree, freshly baked cookies and a hint of cinnamon and pumpkin spice from all her candles.

She has a small apartment but it’s cozy, a bunch of movies and books are all over the place, some are on the shelves, others are piling up on the floor. You checked them out the moment you stepped into her apartment, getting excited over all the horror movies she had collected.

You finally met Jonathan and his friend from college; Argyle, who pulled you into a conversation right away, enthusiastically asking you questions about the tour. You settled beside him on the couch, quickly forgetting about all the heavy thoughts that lingered in your mind.

Steve kept looking at you all evening, eying you with an unsure look in his eyes, he wanted to talk to you but couldn’t bring himself to, he was too nervous. Even though you told him that you were okay and that everything was fine between you, he didn’t believe it and he still doesn’t. The fear that he messed up completely and broke your trust makes him feel so unbelievably angry with himself.

He was supposed to be your safe place, the one who protects you from all the pain and yet he hurt you. He knows he did.

“Hey Dingus,” Robin whispers. She nudges his shoulder and offers him a drink.

He looks at her and then he looks down at the glass in her hand, eying the beverage. “Eggnog?” He asks, already taking the drink from her hand.

“Yup.”

“Cool,” he mumbles. Raising the cup to his lips, he looks back at you as he takes the first sip. You are laughing at something Argyle said, the man beside you looking proud at his jokes.

Robin stares at him. She pities him, knowing that he likes you and that he is beating himself up for what happened two nights ago. You are not mad at him, you told her that and she told him that but he doesn’t believe it.

“You should talk to her.”

“How?”

“Just talk to her the way you always do,” she mumbles.

“Yeah but how do I approach her?”

“Just like always, like ‘hey honey, can we talk?’” Robin says in a deep voice.

Steve scrunches his face up, furrowing his brows. “I do not sound like that,” he mumbles.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!” She exclaims with a teasing look on her face. “You always have that smirk on your face too, flick your hair and put your hand on your hip like a mom.”

“What? I– no!”

She laughs at him, drinking her eggnog and looking behind her best friend’s shoulder with a knowing look on her face.

“What are you smirking at?” He mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Robin raises her brows and tilts her chin, gesturing to something behind him. Before he can turn around, he hears your voice.

“Steve?”

Suddenly, he feels nervous again, in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. He turns around, trying to force a smile on his face when he looks down at you. He almost expects to see something negative in your eyes, disgust, anger, hate but he finds none of those, he only finds softness in them.

“Can we talk?” You ask with shyness in your voice, something so unusual for you.

He nods, eyes softening as he watches you sigh in relief. You take his hand and lead him to the quiet corner in Robin’s living room, you both sit on the window nook.

He doesn’t look at you, not yet. Instead, he looks around the room. Max is talking to Jonathan and Nancy. Argyle is now leaning against the kitchen island, joking around with Eddie and Dustin. The others are on the couch and on the floor, seemingly in a heated conversation about holiday movies.

He feels your eyes on him and he finally turns to face you. You eye him with an apologetic look in your eyes.

What do you have to feel apologetic for? He is the one who messed up, Steve thinks.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, chuckling.

You nod.

“Why are you so nice, why are you looking at me like that?” He asks. He feels genuinely confused. You should be angry at him, you shouldn’t be so nice, you shouldn’t look at him like that.

“I don’t want you to feel bad about what happened, Steve.”

“We– I messed up,” he mumbles, shaking his head a little as he stares at you with a frown on his face. “You– I didn’t even make sure that you were okay with it–”

“I was okay with it.”

“But I still feel bad.”

“You don’t have to, I promise. I just want to go back to the way things were.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You look at Nancy, the girl that told you about the apparent feelings Steve harbored for you. With a nervous glance and an unsure look on your face, you turn back to him.

Should you ask him?

He knows it, he knows that you want to ask something. He can tell by the furrowed brows and the curiosity in your eyes.

“A-Are we okay?” You ask the questions that you didn’t mean to ask.

His gaze softens and he finally moves to touch your hand, something he wasn’t sure about at first.

“Of course, we’re okay, honey.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, he keeps his eyes locked with yours, “but what do you really wanna know?”

Your eyes widen a little, something that makes him chuckle.

“Come on, ask what you wanna ask, it’s okay, I won’t be–”

“Do you have feelings for me?” You blurt out in a whisper, already blushing.

His eyes widen, lips parting and his cheeks grow red. “W-What? Who told you that?”

You grow nervous, your heart is beginning to race in your chest, you don’t want to hurt him, you don’t want to break his heart, he means too much to you.

“I– no one,” you whisper, looking down at his hand, “I’m just wondering.”

A small smile tugs on his lips as he watches you, for someone so tough and confident, you look small and shy, right now. You are worried about him and his feelings, that alone would be enough to mend the pain in his heart if it was there. You don’t want to break his heart.

He whispers your name and you almost sigh in relief when you don’t hear any pain in his voice. He squeezes your hand, urging you to look at him. You do and meet his eyes again.

“Listen,” he begins, “I would be lying if I said that I don’t feel something for you but it’s not– I’m not in love with you, I’m not gonna be heartbroken when you leave and when this thing between us will come to an end. I mean, I will be fucking sad,” he chuckles as he runs his fingers through his hair, “you and I, we had a really good time, one of the best times of my life, actually. You’ve become one of my best friends and I hope that you won’t forget about me when you leave because I sure as hell will never forget you and our time.”

You blink, smiling at him, you squeeze his hand the way he did to you.

“I could never forget you, Steve Harrington.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

You smile at each other, despite what happened and the way you felt the other night, you still feel safe with him.

“I got used to this,” he smiles, flicking his hand back and forth between the two of you, “having someone to hang out with, I mean other than Robin or the others. You made me realize that I miss having someone, someone to hold and kiss, you know?”

You nod at his words. You understand it, you feel the same but while he misses having someone in general, you only missed one person and even though you did enjoy the time with him, you still always thought about Eddie.

“At some point, I convinced myself that I don’t need anyone, that I’m not lucky in that department anyways,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes at himself, “I thought that all I’d ever get is meaningless hookups or just.. heartbreak.”

You raise your brows, smile turning upside down as you stare at him. He deserves more than that, more than meaningless flings.

“But then I met you and yeah, we hooked up too but it was also more than that. You showed me that it doesn’t have to be meaningless, that even though we aren’t in a relationship, we can still be something more than just this,” he mumbles, scooting closer to you, he looks down at the rings on your fingers, the ones that he played with when he held your hands, “you never made me feel used. Even when I knew you loved him, you never made me feel like I was a rebound or a thing to play with when you were bored. You never wanted something from me, you were just this sweet girl that wanted to be with me, even if only for a moment.”

Oh.

You and him, you are the same in a way. Perhaps this is why you got along so well.

All your life, you have felt like people wanted or needed something from you. You felt used, still do.

“So uh– I guess what I wanted to say is, thank you,” he smiles, squeezing your hand, “and I’m sorry for what happened that night.”

You blink, staring into his hazel eyes, you see so much in them. Emotions that you both share.

Yeah, the night at the trailer was something that left you feeling weird, something that made you feel used and even when it wasn’t what they did, something inside of you was damaged when you let your thoughts get the best of you. Your feelings for either of them haven't changed. You care about Steve and you love Eddie and that is something that will always stay the same.

Steve mended the pain in your heart after the horrible nights that followed when you found out about Chrissy. He became your friend and something more, there is an energy surrounding the two of you, one that makes you feel safe and comforted. It’s like having a safe haven that you know you can always come back to even after a long long time and you know it will still feel the same. There is nothing romantic about it but it’s nice.

He is your friend, one that will stay with you forever. You can confidently say that knowing that it’s the truth.

“Thank you, Steve,” you smile, “you made my life better and you made me happy when I needed it the most.”

“Come here,” he whispers, opening his arms for you. You smile and lean closer to him, wrapping your arms around him, you hug him and close your eyes.

“I’m gonna miss you when I’m gone.”

He hugs you even tighter, sighing sadly, “I’m gonna miss you, rockstar.”

On the other side of the room, Eddie stands there with a drink in his hand and a scowl on his face as he watches you staying in Steve’s embrace for longer than necessary. Letting the man touch your face after tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your eyes light up when he says something to you, you laugh and slap his shoulder playfully.

Do you look at him like that? Do you smile the same way when he talks to you? Do your eyes light up the same way?

Eddie swallows, his chest feels burdened with jealousy. He feels ridiculous for feeling this way, maybe even a little hypocritical considering he let Steve touch you in a way that was nowhere near friendly but he can’t help it. Anytime another man gets a little too close to you, he gets both angry and insecure but most of all, jealous.

“Damn, I never saw you look so angry.”

Eddie snaps his head towards Lucas, who is happily munching on one of the cookies that Nancy made.

“I’m not angry,” Eddie mutters, angrily.

Lucas chuckles, nodding, “sure, whatever you say, Eddie. You are totally not jealous over the fact that Steve is kissing her right now.”

“What?” Eddie almost shrieks as he turns to look at you again, heart dropping to his stomach at his words only to find you gone and Steve joining El and Robin in a conversation.

Clenching his jaw, he turns back to Lucas, “you little shit,” he says through gritted teeth. Lucas only laughs, satisfaction flickering in his eyes.

“So you are jealous, huh?”

Rolling his eyes, he only shrugs, “clearly.”

“You’re so dense, man,” Lucas sighs.

“Excuse me?”

“You are dense!” He exclaims, throwing his arms up. “She is like literally in love with you and you are over here glaring at her–”

“I did not glare at her!”

“Yes, you did! You looked pretty scary right now, scarier than Henry Creel!”

“Dude!”

“It’s the truth!” Lucas mumbles, rolling his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Listen, clearly you have messed up somehow, otherwise you wouldn’t look at each other like kicked puppies, all the damn time. You probably made things worse by trying to make them right ‘cause I know that you can be an idiot sometimes, no offense. But you really gotta man up and fix things before you lose her and trust me, you don’t wanna lose her.”

Eddie blinks.

How is this 17 year old boy wiser and smarter than him?

He is right, he doesn’t want to lose you, ever. The thought of living a life without you makes him sick. Even if you never give him a chance again, he still wants you in his life, even if he’ll only get to love you from afar.

You breathe in the cold air, closing your eyes, you lean back against the concrete wall. The wind is harsh tonight as the snow falls. You wonder if there is a storm brewing, beside the one inside of you.

You are overstimulated by all the emotions running through you.

Confusion. Sadness. Insecurities. Anger. Exhaustion. Heartbreak.

The conversation with Chrissy left you with nothing but confusion, just like Eddie’s and Steve’s actions did.

The days leading closer to Christmas and to your Dad’s death anniversary leaves you with sadness, too much of it.

Your many insecurities have always been there but they have never been as intense as they are now. Despite Eddie’s words, Robin’s words or even Chrissy’s words, you can’t help but fear that Eddie doesn’t care about you in the same way you do for him. So far, things have only ever been physical between you two, at least from his side.

Before Eddie, you had never felt an emotional connection to anyone else, you have never loved anyone romantically, you have never felt all of this for another person. You were scared of these feelings, of falling in love only to end up heartbroken.

You were scared of falling in love with the wrong person. Though despite everything that happened, Eddie could never be the wrong person, even if he continues to put you through pain, you will never regret loving him.

He is your person, even if you aren’t his.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You open your eyes and turn to see Max approaching you, even in the darkness, you can see the concern in her eyes as she looks at you.

You smile at her and nod your head, “yes, I’m okay.”

She doesn’t look convinced, raising her brows, she crosses her arms over her chest as she pulls her jacket tighter around her body to shield herself from the cold wind.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you mumble with uncertainty in your voice.

She takes a moment to think about her words as she looks into your eyes as though she tries to figure you out.

“Is this too much for you?” She asks, “I mean the whole Christmas party.”

She doesn’t have to spell it out for you to know what she actually means by her question.

“No, I actually like it,” you smile, “I’m just not used to it, I haven’t celebrated Christmas in years.”

Because what was there to celebrate after he died that day?

“Honestly? I hate Christmas,” Max admits with a sigh and an eye roll, causing you to chuckle.

“Really?”

Her eyes widen as she nods, “yeah because even though my mom left my step dad, she still insists on spending holidays with him and Billy.”

“Billy?”

“My step brother who is a major asshole.”

“Oh no,” you mumble with a scowl on your face.

“Yeah, he is horrible and he always makes sure to make me feel horrible, especially during holidays, so I really just can’t wait for it to be over.”

“I get it. I feel the same way,” you admit, “but I’m sorry about him, fuck that guy.”

She chuckles at your words, “yeah, fuck that guy.”

“What about your dad?” You ask.

Her eyes light up and a smile appears on her face. “Oh, my dad is amazing, I don’t see him very often but he calls all the time. Lucas and I are going to visit him over the summer, he lives in California.”

“That sounds nice,” you smile, “I hope you’ll have the best summer before you both go to college.”

“I’m sure we will,” she smiles, “but back to you, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Oh umm.. I think that I will relax in my motel room,” you chuckle.

You are not looking forward to tomorrow or the day after at all. No matter what you do, no matter how much you try to distract yourself, it doesn’t work, it never works. This day always brings you back to that horrible night.

“Alone?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna get ready for tour, we’re leaving next week.”

“You can’t spend Christmas by yourself,” she frowns.

“I always spend Christmas by myself.”

“You shouldn’t, that’s sad.” Especially because of your dad, she wants to add but doesn’t. “I’d invite you to spend it with us but I don’t think that you want to meet Billy,” she rolls her eyes, “did Eddie not invite you?”

No. He didn’t. Eddie didn’t invite you. Steve did but he didn’t.

Maybe he doesn’t want you around. Christmas is a holiday that you spend with your loved ones, not ones you keep around because you like the way they make you feel, because you like touching them.

You shake your head.

“What?”

“Uh no, he uh– he didn’t invite me,” you mumble as the sadness begins to take hold of you, “which is fine, that’s a day you gotta spend with your family or with people you love. Eddie and I are just friends.”

She furrows her brows in confusion. She opens her mouth to speak but quickly closes it again. You feel overwhelmed, just like you did minutes before you left the apartment. She could see the way you put on a mask, the way you smiled at Steve and laughed along to his jokes despite the pain in your eyes, you are good at hiding your emotions and so is she, that’s why she could see right through you.

“It’s getting late, I think I’m gonna go,” you mumble, blinking away the tears that start to well up in your eyes.

“Do you want me to get Steve, so he can drive you?” She asks even though she already knows that you will say no. You want to be alone.

“No,” you shake your head, forcing a smile on your face, “it’s just a short walk, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, thank you for tonight, the party was nice.”

“You don’t have to thank us, you’re our friend now,” she smiles.

Her words warm your heart a little.

You give her a hug before you leave, telling her to enjoy the rest of the party before you walk away but then you make the abrupt decision to go the other way after Max goes back inside. The thought of being all alone in the quiet room makes you feel sick but going back to the party isn’t an option either. You need some time alone, a good drink and some music.

That’s how you find yourself sitting at the bar you performed in this Tuesday. Ordering yourself a drink and opting to watch the people around you.

Your eyes lock with blue ones, the ones that were stuck on you all night ever since you walked inside the hideout.

His hair is blond, a little messy. He has tattoos on his left arm, a dark look on his face and a smirk tugs at his lips when you don’t look away from him. He is attractive. If you weren’t so hung up on a man that probably only wants to fuck you, you would be over there flirting with this stranger already.

You look away, running your fingers through your hair, you sigh.

You’re a mess, a complicated mess with too many trust issues and feelings. You keep changing your mind about everything, your thoughts are running wild, making you feel as though you are going crazy. Everything that ever hurt you, keeps repeating itself in your head and you wish that your thoughts would just shut up.

That the pain could just stop.

Will it ever stop?

“Hey.”

You already know who it is before you even turn around to face the man.

“Hi.”

He smirks at you, eying you up and down before he looks at the seat next to you, “can I sit here?”

“If you give me your name,” you say with raised brows.

He licks his lips, chuckling, he holds his hand out to you, “I’m Henry.”

Oh my god.

“Henry,” you mumble, a smirk tugging at your lips. You assume that he must be the Henry Creel, the one that everyone kept mentioning, you expected him to look scary but there is not a single thing scary about him, well– maybe the look in his eyes is but you don’t care.

You give him your name and watch as he takes the seat next to you.

“I know who you are,” he chuckles, “you’re all over the television.”

His voice is raspy and he looks deep into your eyes.

“Yeah, do you want an autograph?” You joke.

“No, I think I’d rather talk to you.”

“What if I don’t want to talk?”

“Then I’ll leave,” he shrugs, “do you want me to leave?”

You tear your eyes away from him and look down at your drink, sloshing the dark liquid around, you down the rest of it, slamming the glass on the table. You call the bartender over, “can I get another one?”

The bartender, a middle aged man with the name tag Tom, nods at you, reaching for your glass.

“Actually make it two,” you request as you look back at Henry whose eyes light up.

With the way he has been making eyes at you all night, you expected him to be flirting with you but instead you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with the man that your friends have warned you about.

The only thing creepy about him is his obsession with spiders and zombies but he is probably just a really big fan of horror. He even has a big spider tattoo on his wrist.

You find out that he lives alone in a big house, he stayed behind after his family left Hawkins but he works as a tattoo artist in a different town.

The whole time he is talking to you, you nod along and listen. Leaning your elbow against the table, you cup your cheek and stare at him, wondering what gave him such a bad reputation.

Hours go by and you knock back one drink after the other, letting the alcohol flood your system. You needed this. A distraction. To feel careless and free of your thoughts. Who would’ve thought that a talk with a stranger and a few drinks would make you feel better?

“You are nice,” you slur, furrowing your brows.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice?”

“People say you’re dangerous and scary.”

He chuckles at your words, “maybe I am dangerous and scary.”

You shake your head, laughing, “no, I’ve met dangerous people before, you’re not dangerous. You just have that mean look on your face,” you mumble as you point to his eyes, “and your obsession with spiders makes you seem scary but you probably just want to be spiderman– hey, have you ever been to New York? You should go there but don’t have your first kiss there with someone you love or it’ll all go downhill,” you ramble carelessly.

You don’t see the way he raises his brows in surprise, you are too drunk to notice anything at this point. Getting more and more dizzy and tired.

“I fell in love with this– this guy who had a girlfriend but I didn’t know about her until she surprised him and then I got all heartbroken and we got into a lot of fights and blah blah,” you roll your eyes, “then I fucked his friend.”

“Oh,” Henry mumbles, looking surprised.

“Yeah and he got jealous. He got all pissed at me because I fucked his friend! He had a girlfriend! He had no right to be jealous, right?”

“Totally not.”

“But then he wanted to fuck me with his friend, how fucking stupid is that?”

“Wait what–”

“I hate men, they are so dumb– no offense.”

“None taken, you’re right.”

“I know, I’m always right.”

He chuckles as he looks down at you.

You run your fingers through your messy hair, trying to sit straight.

“I think I need another drink–”

“No, I really think you don’t,” he says, pushing the half empty glass away from you, “you’ve had enough. You should go home.”

You tilt your head, squinting your eyes as you turn to look at him, “no, I don’t.”

“The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh,” you frown, “well, it was nice to meet you,” you mumble, jumping off the chair, your knees buckle and you almost fall to the ground if it wasn’t for him holding you up, “whoa, you okay?” He chuckles.

A small laugh leaves your lips, you nod, “yeah, thanks,” you mumble, blinking, you feel yourself getting dizzy, “I think I had too much.” You stumble into his chest, “you smell good, is that Dior?”

He chuckles again, placing his hands on your waist, he pushes you back a little.

“Do you need some water–”

“Hey! Get your hands off of her!”

You look behind him, to see Eddie walking towards you with an angry and worried look in his eyes.

“Oh no,” you mumble as a wave of sickness rushes through you, “there is the guy.”

Eddie can’t believe it. He was sick with worry, searching for you everywhere after finding your motel room dark and empty. Here you are, getting cozy with Henry fucking Creel.

“What the fuck, y/n?” He mutters angrily as he stops in front of you, he reaches for you, pulling you away from Henry, he looks down at you, “I was worried about you!”

“Why?” You slur, looking up into his dark eyes, “I’m fine, just hanging out with spiderman.”

He scrunches his face up, the smell of whiskey hits him. The red rimmed eyes and your drowsy state makes him even more worried. He cups your cheeks.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, “how much did you have?”

You slap his hands away, “stop acting like my dad, you’re not my dad. My dad is dead.”

Eddie frowns at your words.

“Don’t look at me like that, Eddie–”

“You’re getting drunk with strangers now?”

“Henry is my friend, he’s gonna give me a tattoo, right Henry?”

Henry shrugs, “yeah sure.”

“Or maybe some nipple piercings,” you smirk.

“What the fuck,” Eddie mumbles.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Eddie? Did you know that he is a tattoo artist and not some scary serial killer?”

He rolls his eyes at you, taking your hand, he squeezes it softly, “come on, I’ll take you home.”

To his surprise, you don’t protest. He grabs your coat and wraps it around your shoulders before he leads you out. He mutters something under his breath as you step into the darkness. Suddenly, you start giggling causing him to get even more irritated.

You lean against the wall, almost stumbling to the ground again but Eddie holds your waist tightly.

“What the fuck is so funny to you?”

You look at the frown on his face, his eye is twitching and his cheeks are red. He is mad.

“Get your hands off of her,” you imitate him with a low voice, “are you worried that someone else will use me for my body? I-I mean, that’s all I am to you, a body, right?”

“What?” He scoffs.

“I’m just a body– a thing to you,” you slur, “that’s what you called me, a pretty little thing, that’s what you called me that one night on the tour bus. And that’s all you ever want me for. You always just wanna touch me and kiss me, otherwise I’m not interesting to you.”

“What?” Eddie repeats, though he doesn’t sound shocked or angry now, just sad.

“Can you bring me home– no, wait,” you giggle again, “I don’t have a home.”

Eddie stares at you with tears in his eyes. Right here, right now, he realizes just how hurt you really are. Despite your laugh and the carefree act you put on, it’s so clear to him that you are in pain and it breaks his heart.

“I’m a wreck,” you say, running your hand down your face, “man, I’m so annoying.”

He shakes his head, stepping towards you, he cups your cheeks. Getting angry at himself for making you feel this way about yourself.

“You’re not a wreck and you are not annoying, Sweetheart and you’re not some thing to me. You’re my girl, my best friend, okay?”

Your glossy eyes widen at his words.

“Best friend?” You whisper.

“Yeah, you are my everything. I’m an idiot, a really big one. I know I made mistakes, too many of them but I can prove you wrong, I can show you that you are more to me than what you think.”

“Please?” You whisper with hope in your eyes.

“I will prove it to you,” he says softly, leaning down, he presses his lips to your forehead, giving you a gentle kiss, “I won’t touch you unless you tell me to. We can start over, okay?”

You nod.

He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly. You breathe his scent in, a sense of comfort washing over you. You close your eyes and lay your head on his chest.

“I can be your home.”

“Really?” You mumble into his chest as the exhaustion takes over you again.

“Yes baby,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair, “and please don’t ever hang out with Henry again–”

“Henry is nice.”

“No, he really isn’t,” Eddie mumbles in annoyance.

“Yes, he is, he is a sweet boy.”

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs.

“Let’s get you to bed, Sweetheart.”

He brings you back to the motel room, taking your clothes off and replacing them with comfortable ones. He takes your makeup off and brushes your hair while you brush your teeth. Eddie loves taking care of you, it’s something he never told you before but he does.

Before you, he hated being responsible for others, he didn’t like taking care of other people but it’s different with you.

He manages to convince you to drink a glass of water, hoping that it will make you feel less bad in the morning but neither that or the advil help you. You wake up with a pounding head.

Groaning in pain, you open your eyes, feeling thankful for the closed curtains.

You sit up, burying your face in your hands. You haven’t felt this way in a long time. You don’t drink much, ever. Hangovers are the absolute worst, that’s why you keep it light with the drinks, usually.

You force yourself out of bed, you read the clock, 12:00 pm.

“Jesus,” you mumble. It’s unusual for you to sleep this long.

You find a note and a full water bottle, along with some painkillers on the nightstand.

Please eat something when you wake up and call me.

-Eddie.

You don’t think that you will get anything down right now or today in general.

You don’t call him right away, opting for a shower instead, hoping that it will wake you up and make you feel better. You grab some fresh clothes before walking into the bathroom. Turning the water on, you start taking your clothes off. You turn to look at yourself in the mirror.

Frowning at the puffy eyes and the circles beneath them.

“Wreck,” you mumble to yourself, rolling your eyes, you turn away and step into the shower.

You close your eyes when the warm water touches your skin. You stand there for a couple of minutes before you begin to wash your hair and your body. You don’t think of anything yet, too focused on the headache and your craving for coffee.

You take your time getting ready. You put lotion on your body, style your hair and put makeup on your face, hoping that it’ll make you look less exhausted. You pick out a warm sweater and some dark jeans.

The weight on your shoulder is heavy but some of it was lifted last night after your conversation with Steve and Eddie.

I can be your home

We can start over

Start over. Yes, you both can start over. You can start over. Things don’t have to be this way. You don’t have to be broken and insecure. You can be more than that. You can be okay.

You are surprised by the amount of snow that fell overnight. All the trees and all the streets are covered in snow and it's icy cold outside.

You were meaning to go to the store but it’s too far away to walk in this cold so you stop by the gas station instead, hoping to get a hot drink and a few snacks here.

You greet the very bored looking cashier as you walk inside. Last Christmas by Wham is playing on the radio. The only Christmas song you’ll ever tolerate.

You walk past the drinks and the magazines when something catches your eye.

The warmth that the store provided you only lasted for a moment. Your blood runs cold and your heart drops to your stomach when your eyes fall on the cover of one of the magazines.

“What the fuck,” you whisper as you feel yourself getting sick already.

A picture of your dad is on the cover of one of the magazines. You step closer, ignoring the pounding of your heart. With shaky hands, you reach towards it. Eyes filled with shock as you read the lines on the cover.

HOLIDAY HEARTBREAK

BELOVED LEGEND DIED OF DRUG OVERDOSE, NOT MEDICAL CONDITION. AN INSIDE SCOOP INTO THE MAN WE THOUGHT WE KNEW.

“No….” You whisper with tears in your eyes.

You rush towards the counter with the magazine in your hand, slamming a fifty dollar bill on the counter.

“Hey, that’s too much!” The teen says to you as he looks at you in confusion.

“Keep the change,” you mumble as you leave the store. Not even caring about the cold anymore, walk towards the bench on the sidewalk. Sitting down, you flip through the pages.

Breathing heavily, you try to see through the blurry vision in your eyes as you begin to read the article. Your hands are shaking, you feel like throwing up as the bile in your throat rises.

The Hey Jude singer secretly battled a drug addiction before being found by his daughter on Christmas. Is she following in his footsteps?

You don’t even feel your heart racing any longer, you don’t feel any anger.

You read the rest of it, only growing more scared and confused.

Mentions of your apparent drug addiction only make you feel even sicker.

“What the fuck..”

You stare at it for the longest time, not knowing how to actually feel. Tears begin to stream down your face and you have to hold yourself together to keep yourself from sobbing. How do they know? How did this happen? Who talked? Who said all these horrible things about you?

You sniffle, closing the magazine, you get up.

You never wanted this, you never wanted them to know about what happened to him.

They waited for this day to publish this stupid magazine. You clench your jaw, looking up into the sky, you close your eyes. The pain and the anger and everything else begins to fade into numbness.

You don’t even think about what will happen next but you know that the rest of the tour will be hell for you.

Ever since he died, you have hated this day but now you despise it.

His name is ruined and so is yours.

You walk over to the telephone booth, throwing a coin into the phone box, you dial the number, already knowing that you are making a huge mistake. This person never gave you an ounce of comfort in your life and yet, you call her.

You have never felt so low.

You hold the receiver tightly in your shaky hand, ignoring the tears that stream down your face.

“Hello?”

“Mom?”

The line goes silent and you are afraid that she hung up the phone.

“Mom, are you there?” You ask, not even recognizing your own voice anymore.

She says your name, almost regretfully.

“Did you see?” You ask as you look down at the magazine.

“See what, y/n?”

“The article?”

“Yes.”

Her voice is monotone, strict. She doesn’t care, she never did and it hurts you more than ever today.

“C-Can I see you?” You ask with a shaky voice.

She sighs and you already know what that means.

“Listen, I gotta go–”

“Mom, please,” you beg.

The line is silent for another few seconds. Your heart is racing, your bottom lip is trembling as your body is shaking, not from the cold but from the fear.

“I need you.”

She doesn’t say anything but she hangs up the phone, leaving you alone once again.

You close your eyes as you place the receiver back in place, wiping your tears away, you hold the magazine tightly against your chest as you leave the booth.

How much worse will it get?

“Y/n?”

You look up, not caring about the tears on your face and the ones that are welling up in your eyes again. Even through your blurry vision, you recognize him.

“H-Hi,” you mumble, trying to keep yourself from crying.

He eyes you with concern in his eyes, holding the keys to his truck, he puts them inside of his pocket as he walks towards you.

“Are you okay, kid?” He asks.

You blink, trying to come up with words, trying to come up with a lie but you can’t, not right now.

You shake your head, “no,” you whisper, unable to stop the sob from escaping.

Wayne sighs deeply, a sad look taking over his features, he steps closer to you.

“Come here, darling,” he says as he opens his arms, pulling you into his embrace. He rubs your back softly, holding you as you cry.

Here’s the article

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sparrowrye · 3 months

Text

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 5

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

Part 5: digging deeper

Part Pilot | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom. I opened my mouth and ran my tongue, which was a little longer than usual, along my sharp teeth. The sharpest ones were my canines that slipped past my lips when resting.

I touched around the base of my horns. The skin was tight near the bottom and paler than the rest of my skin. My horns jutted up, curved down a bit, then back up to a point at the very end. I tried bending them but they were sturdy, even near the tip.

I clicked my claws together then on the counter. It felt strange to have something that felt like elongated nails. I poked my arm until I drew blood, noting how quick it took to do so. My toes also had claws. They weren't as long as my fingers but they were definitely sharper. The skin on my feet felt extremely tough, almost rubbery.

I turned off the light and sat on the cushions by the window. I rested my head on my arm and stared off into the ocean. For the first time in a long while, I tried to think back into my memories.

I was only able to get snippets, though. I could envision myself in small, specific scenes but I couldn't remember anything past my first rounds of fighting. What did my parents look like? Did they give me to the rings? Did someone kill them? Was I born in hell? How much magic did I have and what kind was it?

I had so many unanswered questions.

I met Husker for dinner again. I couldn't stop looking at my claws as I tried to go about normally. Using a fork was new; long nails made it surprisingly difficult. Husker tried not to laugh and I caught him smiling several times.

"Did you know?" I asked him.

"No. Alastor told me he thought you might be a demon but I was skeptical."

"Why?"

"Well it takes effort to have a human appearance yet you always had one when you were asleep or unconscious. Plus you only used Slight magic when we fought."

"So Alastor knew."

"It was more of a theory." The Radio Demon materialized at the end of the table. "No one had ever heard of a human and demon being soulmates." My eyes fell to my plate. I hated looking at him and I hated hearing the word soulmates. "Once you've finished we'll head back to Rosie's."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight.” He almost sounded annoyed. “She wants to unravel your curse as quickly as possible. She said something about it putting a strain on your mind." He touched a pointed claw to his lips. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Husker rolled his eyes and took a gulp of his drink. I offered to help clean the dishes but he refused. Alastor wrapped an arm around my shoulders and practically dragged me outside. I peeled his hand off and walked up to the scorched symbol on the ground. It didn't look like anything I recognized but it was always there.

He pulled me against him by my waist and stuck his cane into the ground. The ground gave way and I held my hair to my neck. We teleported to a different location this time and I soon discovered it was behind Rosie's store. The quiet town had all their indoor lights and radios turned on.

Alastor knocked twice on the glass door before it opened for him. We walked right into the same meeting room as before. Rosie was setting down a hot teapot.

"Welcome back dearies," she curtsied. "Come in come in. I just took this off the stove. You'll love it."

"I have a matter to attend to but I'm sure you'll take good care of my darling," Alastor said. My darling?

"Oh of course. Go off and do your man's work. Us ladies will get to know each other better." She hooked her arm around mine and lead me to the chair again. "I'm sure you've got lots of burning questions." This time I accepted the warm tea. "But I have to warn you sweetheart. This time, when we go back into your memories, it's going to be a lot more dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

"If you get too wrapped up in the emotions and feelings of your memories, you can get stuck there."

"Stuck? In my own head?"

"I'm afraid so," she sipped on her tea, "When I feel you starting to fall down that rabbit hole, I'll touch your leg to let you know. When you feel me touch you, I need you to reel your emotions back in. Do you think you can do that? If not, there's no shame in waiting for tomorrow.”

"No," I said quickly, "I'll be okay. I can do this."

"I believe you. Now. Let's begin."

She sat beside me on the stool and took my hands in hers. I stared down at my black claws as she asked me to go back in time. I closed my eyes and skipped through my teenage-hood and into my early childhood. I tried to push away the sinking sadness of my first friend's death.

"What did your first master look like?" Rosie asked.

"I know he had white hair. Long, white hair. He always had a scowl on his face and he dragged me around."

"What about your very first fight?"

"I was...I was against another kid. Another girl. She had short brown hair and looked...inhuman."

"Inhuman, how?"

"She...her eyes...they were red and...she just looked insane. Her hair was all matted and she was down on all fours. She was drooling a lot too. I remember she...she ran after me and started clawing and biting my arms. She went for my face and I shoved her off. She chased me in circles around the ring. I can still hear all the men cheering above. They were laughing."

"What did you do?"

"I uh...I grew tired and she eventually caught up to me. She grabbed my foot then went for my face. I don't remember much but I...I remember kicking her off then kicking her head. It bounced off the walls and then she didn't get up after that."

"When did you start to learn how to use magic?"

I paused for a moment. “I…I had a master before him? He…he was the one who taught me. Every so often he would come back during the day and take me into the ring. He showed me how to use it. First it was with wind. He told me to throw sand and dirt in my opponents' faces."

"What else did he teach you?"

"He taught me...how to use my sweat as a weapon...how to pull apart the earth so their foot would get stuck or so that they would trip...he taught me a lot."

"Did you warm up to him?"

"When he was teaching me I was happy. I loved learning how to use my magic. And he praised me all the time when I did well. Eventually he stopped being rough with me. It felt like...like he cared about me."

"But?"

"But..." I felt my heart sink with sadness. "But...he...gave me up...to someone not nice."

"Do you know why?"

"Yeah...he was...apparently just someone who trained children in basic magic then...then sold them off to the highest bidder. I was...I was so angry at him...I thought I was going to make him proud and live to be set free but...but I was nothing to him."

"Very good. Now, what can you tell me about when you first met him? When you first saw his white hair?"

I paused. "I remember...I remember looking up at him. He was such a tall man. I was holding someone's hand but I can't...I can't see their face."

"It's okay, don't push it. Tell me about the hand you're holding. What does it feel like?"

"Soft. But...tough? It's definitely tight."

"Good what about-"

"No. Wait...there was another man with white hair. But his...his was shorter."

"Tell me about him. Where were you?"

"I was...I was in a cage. I was...with someone. I remember seeing him come to the cage often. I was...the person I'm with would always get tense when he did. Why can't I see this person's face?"

"It's okay. Take your time. Tell me what this person is wearing."

"A short sleeve. Her skin is...covered in scars and bruises. She's...she's always stroking my hair."

"What else does she do?"

"She...she hums a lot. There's a small radio in the corner and she hums to it a lot. And...I can feel it in her chest when does. She rocks me back and forth until I fall asleep." I suddenly grew very sad and angry. My hands tightened and my hair on the back of my neck stood up.

"What is it, doll? What's happening?"

"He's...the man...he's wearing a white suite...exactly the color of his hair...and he's yelling with her. They're fighting. There's yelling. He hits her. She's arguing back but not fighting. Why won't she fight?"

"Stay with me dear." She touched my lap. I tried to lower my tense shoulders but it was hard.

"He picked me up and...he closed the door on her. She's screaming. Why is she screaming? Why is he taking me away from her? I can't...I can't reach her. I don't...where is he taking me? I don't want to leave her."

"Enough sweetheart, come back. Come out of the memory." She touched my shoulder this time. "Come back to my store. Come back to this world. It's all just a memory."

"I can't stop crying. Why...is that my mother?"

"Sweetheart, you need to come back. You're going in too deep. Stop the emotions."

"But...I want to see her."

"We'll look next time. We can come back next time but you need to take a break. Come out of the memory. Come back to the store. Blink twice and look up."

I stared at the figure reaching out to me through the bars. I was so close. I just wanted to touch her hand one more time. But it was just a memory. She wasn't really there. She might not even be alive at all.

I blinked twice and looked up to meet Rosie's dark eyes. She let out a huge sigh and patted me on the head. "That was a little too close for comfort."

I felt something brush against my leg. I looked down to see a black tail that ran all the way to my back. I stood up and spun around in an effort to look at it. I felt something pulling on my back and realized I had a pair of black wings to go with it.

"What the..." The black on my hands had stretched all the way down to my elbow now. I found the closest mirror and noticed a pair of long ears sticking up from my human ones. Was I a type of dragon?

"I see you're making lots of progress." Alastor's staticky voice cut through the silence.

"Quite a lot, actually," Rosie answered. "I must say, you sure got lucky, Alastor. She looks like she's got a lot hidden away in her."

"Which is why you're the perfect person to help pull it all into the light."

"How do I hide them?" I asked Rosie, still turning in circles to look at myself.

"Oh, uh..." she tapped her sharp finger to her sharp teeth.

"Picture them receding into your back," Alastor answered. I grimaced at the thought of listening to him but gave it a try. The tail shivered but did nothing.

"I'm sure it'll take getting used to," Rosie reassured me. "But I'm sure you're absolutely exhausted. You should go home and get some rest. We can figure out more later."

"Good idea," Alastor agreed. "Come along, darling." He put his hand on my back but I pushed it off. I thanked Rosie and walked out of her store, my wings hitting the edges on the way out.

"So, what did you learn?" he asked as he shut the door.

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious is all."

"You can stay that way," I mumbled. He grabbed my waist and sent us back to the cliff side manor. As soon as my feet touched solid ground, I pushed his hand off and walked inside. My wings hit anything and everything, frustrating me even more.

"Whoah, ain't you something," Husker commented from the sitting room. I didn't respond, clambering up to my room and locking the door behind me. My legs buckled and I collapsed onto the floor. I sobbed into my arms as the new memories replayed themselves in my mind.

Who am I?

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #soulmate au #soulmates #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader

138 notes · View notes

ghostfanwriter · 11 months

Text

✨🔥 Safe 🔥✨

Part two

✨ Pairing: Raider!Joel Miller x afab! Non-Innocent reader

🔥 Synopsis: Your group gets surprised by Joel's, and when one of you refuses to give when what they want, Joel takes all of you back to his base, keeping you to play housewife in his house.

✨ Features: 🔞 Age gap (Joel in his early 50's, reader in her mid 20's), kidnapping, teasing, a bit of exhibitionism (just for him, though), oral sex (m receiving).

🔥 Word count: Over 3k.

✨ About this: This is the first half of a two part story. I wanted to explore Raider!Joel meeting a non innocent reader, because let's be honest here, we eat this shit up, so we wouldn't be exactly sad if that man did it to us.

🔥 Author's note: This one also took me forever to figure out. I wanted him to have a kinda toxic but soft vibe. Like, he's not forcing you, clearly, but he also touches and undresses you before you ever give him any clear sign you're okay with it. He's gross but in a delicious Joel Miller way.

Good reading ✨🔥

✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥

You know it's wrong to enjoy this, God wants to believe you know it. But you can't help yourself.

You and three others from your group were on a run for supplies when three cars full of men surprised you. They were armed and said you just had to give them all your supplies and no one would get hurt.

When one of the men with you didn't want to cooperate, things went south and the leader of the group got out of one of the cars. He shot a warning shot and yelled. All of his men went quiet and gave him space to talk to your people.

The second you saw the man you had to swallow back a moan.

His broad shoulders, huge hands — God if your fingers felt good, imagine those —, his God-like sculpted face and nose, his fluffy hair, his belly showing through his shirt.

Everything your eyes land on make you feel more dizzy.

Your thoughts must have been painted all over your face, because the second the man looked at you, he smirked.

You didn't look away, though.

You held his stare, smiling back, forgetting for a second the situation you were on. The fact that his men were looting your group. The fact that he was the type you usually shot right between the eyes without faltering.

You were more focused on him, on his face, his smile. His figure. How much the big men around him respected him.

Shooting his pretty face was the last thing on your mind.

He looked at all of you again, making himself loud and clear while sounding assertive and calm. His voice making you lightheaded.

"Now, we were going to take your stuff, maybe punch one or two of you on the face — not you though, sugar." He says, turning to point and smile at you. "And then leave and let you go." He says looking back at everyone.

"But when you point a gun at my men? That fucking destroys the deal, man!" He — sounding surprisingly calm — tells the man who denied to give his men your supplies.

"So here's the thing. We're gonna take you back to our place and we'll keep you there with us for a while. You'll work for us and then maybe, if I feel like you deserve it, I'll let you go." He looks at you again, analyzing you, up and down. Then stopping at your face. "I'm sure you'll all have great use for us." He says with a warm smile. Your eyes falter and your cheeks burn.

They blindfold you, so you don't see where their base is. And the big man is the one doing it to you. Your heart beating all over your body when you feel his warmth and his chest on your back.

He definitely did not need to be this close to you to do this.

"This is just a formality, alright, darling? Just to be sure." His hands are rough, but his touch is soft against your skin. He carefully wraps the fabric around your face, "Is it too tight?" he whispers low and breathy on your ears.

You hate it, but you let out a weak and pathetic moan, almost giving in and letting your body melt back against his chest. "Mmn. Huh hm. It's fine."

You can fucking feel his smirk on the back of your neck. "Good."

✨🔥✨.

On your ride to his base you feel his hand on your thigh, just to keep you steady, according to him, and you hear him humming some songs from time to time.

On the darkness of your blindfold, all you could see was him, his face, his hair, his broad chest and back. You were going over the whole situation again, paying attention to the image your brain painted of him, hoping he'd look just as good when you saw him again.

Hoping your brain didn't lie to you, and he was actually all that.

✨🔥✨.

You didn't see the way to their place, but honestly you also don't remember exactly how you ended up here, on this specific situation. Standing on the entrance of his bedroom, watching him put your backpack down near his bed.

All you know is that you're here. And your people are somewhere on this same place.

And you need to keep them safe.

But they're fast to flee your mind when the man starts walking towards you. His gaze dark but soft at the same time. He pulls you softly by the forearm and closes the door behind you, standing at arm reach.

You feel like your heart is making cartwheels all over your body.

"I meant what I said, sugar. You'll all have to work here before I can let you go." You nod, looking up at him and doing your best to not bite your lip. "Tell me, what do you think you can do to make yourself useful around here?"

Now that he's closer, his smell finds it's way back to your nose, and you're pulled out of your brain immediately.

He looks bigger now so close to you, and you can't help but think about how he would feel like on top of you. His weight and his warmth pushing you into the mattress and... he's squinting his eyes, as if trying to read your thoughts, that damn smile on his lips again.

"Anything." You manage to say when you snap back. You're holding his stare the whole time. Not to appear tough or anything, you're just trying to memorize his face.

For later at night, when you're not with him.

"Anything can be many things, sweet thing." His hand comes to your hair, pulling it back and away from your face. An unexpected tenderness to his touch, and you feel like you could just melt right into his hand.

"Anything you want me to do. Anything to be useful for you." His eyes get darker and falter at your words, and you smile softly at his reaction.

His hand comes to your jacket, pulling it over your shoulders and off you, and part of you wished he didn't stop at it.

"Alright. Why don't you start by getting yourself clean and comfortable, then? You've had a stressful day, I'm guessing. Do you have any clean clothes?" he asks. "Uhum", you nod, "On my backpack."

"Bring it over to me." You walk towards it and pick the backpack up, handing it to him. He points you to the bathroom. "You'll find a clean towel there, I'll sort your clothes for you."

✨🔥✨.

You find him sitting on the edge of his bed, by a small pile of clothes when you come out, wrapped in his towel. "You understand I just can't let you go after your people pointed a gun at my men, don't you baby?" His voice is lower and more breathy than before, and God... You could listen to it all day.

All night.

"I do. I would do the same if it were the opposite. We'll cooperate and no one will get hurt." You say, looking into his eyes, watching him get up and walk towards you.

He's not used to people sustaining his gaze. All the huge and muscular men surrounding him too afraid to do it, and none of the women he's found along the way would dare to try.

But not you.

You like his eyes, you like that he doesn't drop his gaze, he doesn't hide his thoughts, and he's liking the same about you.

"Smart girl." He says, pulling the towel and carefully removing it from you.

He takes a step back and throws the towel on the bed, his gaze locked on your body. Analyzing your skin, your curves, your scars and marks. You notice a growing volume on his pants, and when you look back at his eyes, you find them already on yours, a cocky and so goddamn beautiful smile on his lips.

You just can't physically not respond his fucking smile.

"How about you start by grabbing that towel for me, baby? Don't want to sleep on a wet bed." He says, mentioning his bed for you. When you walk past him, he turns, taking a good look at your back, and you make sure to softly sway your hips for him.

You notice the towel is on the other side of the bed, and, instead of walking to the other side to grab it, you look at him over your shoulder, finding him on a stiff posture, eyes fixated on you, his fists tight by his sides.

You turn back and kneel on his bed, his teeth pressing onto one another so hard they could break, and his gaze weakening for a beat. You get fully on all fours and reach for the towel, making sure to lift your ass. A soft and wet, barely audible sound escapes from your pussy when you bend over and your folds get parted.

He grunts and you look back over your shoulder again, smiling at him. "Got it!" you say cheerfully, lifting the towel over your head and coming back, getting off his bed.

You roll the towel around yourself and look at him. "I noticed you have a lot of dirty clothes on your bathroom. Also I don't believe you cook a lot? Maybe I could help you around your house, you know. Make myself useful for you", you offer.

If you really had to stay over and work, you wouldn't mind if you got to spend the whole day on his house.

With him.

✨🔥✨.

The next day you went all over his house, cleaning what was dirty and planning what you could cook for him. It wasn't so bad after all. You just weren't as close to him as you thought you'd be, since he's spent the whole day away, keeping a few of his men surrounding his house all day to watch you.

You were cooking dinner when he arrived home. "Did you have a nice day, baby?" He asked, getting behind you and smelling your neck. His beard scratching you and sending a shiver down your spine, going all the way until pooling on your pussy.

"Just felt a bit lonely, but it was alright." He hums, running his hands on your hips. "A pretty girl like you should never feel lonely." You're wearing a dress he got you this morning, and he can feel that you're not wearing anything under it, groaning and lightly squeezing your hips.

You told him he had time to take a shower before dinner and he went to his bathroom.

When he comes back down, you're by the table; a few pots, a bottle of some alcohol he had, one cup and one plate on top of it.

"Where's yours?" He asks. His hair is wet and combed back, he looks clean and pretty, and you felt like somehow you were already used to him, to his presence. You spent your whole day thinking about him, counting the seconds to see him again, to feel your belly get all happy to see him.

"Oh, I, hum. I thought you'd like to eat alone." You say and he laughs, grabbing a plate and putting it across from his. "Been eating by myself for a while, angel. Want you to eat with me."

You sit down when he does and serve both of you, his eyes fixated on you while he pours both of you some of his drink. "Can I ask you something?" You ask when you start eating, and he responds without looking at you, only lifting his brows, as in 'go on'.

"Where is the rest of my people? What are they doing?" He doesn't get fazed by your question. "What are you doing here, peach?" He asks sipping on his drink.

You think for a beat. Was it a trick question?

"Honestly? Not sure. You said I'd help you, but I'm not sure with what." He looks at you. "Remember what you said? 'Anything'. Right?"

"Right. Anything. But I've only cleaned and cooked so far." He reads your face. His heavy eyes focused on yours.

"Is there anything else you wanna do, sugar?" He asks leaning back on his chair, chewing on his food. You foot looks for his legs, and he looks down when you touch his thigh.

"I thought you needed me for other things. Things more fun than what I did today." His breathing gets heavier, his brows lower and his voice somehow deeper.

"I can't, baby." Your own brows furrow.

"Why not?" You ask and he adjusts himself when your foot reach his crotch.

"I promised I'd let you go. If we do this, I won't ever wanna let you go. Then your people will come for my people, and I don't want to deal with that."

You sighed in an attempt to hold back a moan that still made its way out. You know it's wrong, God wants to believe you know it's wrong, but you can't help it.

You'd love to fucking see it. To see him fight over you, to see him do things for you. He must have done somethings before for his men to respect him so much, and you kinda hoped he'd do them because of you one day.

You press your foot on him.

"You don't think I'm worth it?" You tease, sweetening your voice and innocently looking at him, pouting your lips.

"That's exactly my problem, baby. I know you will be. That's why I can't." You almost feel bad for him, you can feel him hardening under your foot, but you can see he's doing his best not to give in.

"It's a paradox then. If I help you with it, you won't let me go. But if I don't help you, I'm not doing my job, so I can't leave either way. Guess we don't really have a choice here." His eyes find you again and he grins, grunting when you roll your foot over his cock.

He scratches the back of his head, removing your foot.

"Now, I don't want to force you to do anything, right, angel? That's not how I work around here." You nod, convincing him was easy enough.

"But you're gorgeous. And I haven't seen a pretty girl like you in ages, maybe never before. So if you really want to help, you can just be a good girl for me and let me look at you, alright?" He says, palming himself. "Anything to be useful." You repeat, and he smirks. "Alright. Just take your dress off and be pretty, huh? Shouldn't be hard for you."

You smile and get up. You see that he's stroking himself through his jeans and you bite your lower lip, unbuttoning your dress slowly, letting it fall down your shoulders before bending over to take if fully off.

His eyes are locked on your body and against all odds, you don't feel any shame.

Being on full display for him just makes you feral, like you could attack the poor man at any second.

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, setting his cock free and sighing at the feeling.You have to clench your jaw so it doesn't drop.

He's big.

Big, thick and he looks so fucking deliciously heavy. His tip is glistening and swollen, leaking with his precum. You lick your lips at the sight, moving your chair away from the table to give him a better view and sitting back down.

He watches you and laughs. "You know, most girls would be all scared and shy on your position." He starts stroking himself, slow and deep, rolling his palm around his tip and going back down. He grunts while doing it, looking at you.

You scoot forward and lift your legs, bringing your knees close to your chest and spreading yourself for him. "But not you, right, baby? You liked my attention this whole time" He says, a hint of almost pain in his voice.

"I like how you look at me." You say with a smile, his eyes roaming your whole body, stopping at your pussy, already wet and glistening. "Oh, I can tell from here how much you like it, pretty."

You're already naked, already fucking soaked, and already on this situation. The man is already giving you his undivided attention, his dick is out, and the tension between you two is making it hard for you to breath. So why not fucking float along with his tide and enjoy yourself?

You mention to get up, but he shoots you a look. "No. You stay right there. Just sit and be pretty, remember?" He says in a stern tone hasn't used with you yet.

You pout, but sit back down.

"Let me see her again, baby. So pretty all wet for me." You get up and move your chair closer to him, his eyes following you like a hawk.

You sit down and spread yourself, gathering a bit of your leaking arousal and spreading it over his tip, earning a hiss from him, your soft hand a stark contrast to his rough one, distracting him for a beat. He lets you stroke him for a second, thrusting his hips slowly into your hand before snapping back and removing your hand.

He keeps stroking himself, eyes locked on your pussy, faltering when you start touching yourself, running your fingers through your folds and circling your clit, moaning softly.

He pushes his chair back for his hand to move more freely, his eyes fixating on yours. He looks good, so fucking good it makes you want to stay with him. To make sure he's okay, well taken care of, well fed.

Well fucked.

He drops his head back and you know you won't have a better chance of touching him again.

You drop to your knees, licking your lips while taking a better look at his cock. But you probably stare for too long, because after a while he groans, making you look up, finding his eyes on you.

"You're so fucking bad, angel." He pants.

"Uh um, I'll show you how good I can be for you." You say looking him in the eyes, your low and aroused voice surprising your own ears. He smiles and keeps stroking himself.

You look into his eyes and he puts his dick closer to your mouth. You lick his tip, just the tip of your tongue, just the tip of his cock, light enough to just taste him. You whine when he pulls away, pouting and furrowing you brows.

"You're gonna take what I give, huh? Tongue out." He says, that fucking stern tone back, just a little sweeter this time.

You do what he says and he slaps his tip on your tongue a few times, a wet sound filling your ears as your tongue numbing with his weight hitting it.

It was like he wanted you to do it, but he was doing his best to not let you. Sometimes he'd touch your tongue for long enough for you to lick him, or roll your tongue on him, and he'd furrow his brows in response, pulling away.

He grabs another bite of his food and moans when you roll your tongue around his tip, running his fingers through your hair. He didn't pull away this time.

"Shit. A man could get used to this really fast, angel." You smile and he grunts when you swallow his tip. "Fuck, baby, there you go, so good." He lets go of himself and his dick stays there, fully up and hard, his tip inside your mouth, all of his length pulsing for you.

He distracts you again, but eventually you grab him and notice how heavy he is — just like you knew he'd be —, so heavy you moan when you hold him. He runs his fingers through your hair, pulling on it. "C'mon, baby. Treat it real nice."

"You know I will."

You lick his tip, once again rolling your tongue around it. Then you lick underneath his tip, trying to touch every little corner of him with your tongue. You lift his dick and lick it from the base up, wetting your tongue as you go, keeping it spread and watching him as his eyes close shut.

You suck his tip into your mouth, sucking on it for a bit, enjoying the soft and wet texture on your tongue, moaning and moving your hips, looking for something to relieve the burn you felt between your legs.

You take more of him in, drooling on his length, slowly swallowing him. You do it carefully, but passionately, sucking hard and squeezing what you couldn't yet fit in your mouth with your hand.

His grunts and moans serving as fuel to you as you took him all the way, opening your throat to accommodate him and swallowing around his length, his fingers tightening their firm grip on your hair.

"Fuck, right there, wanna — grunt — be right there for a bit." He holds you in place, and you do your best to hold your gags back, but some pass and he groans when your throat convulses around him.

"So good, baby. So pretty all full of me like this." He says, and you manage to look up, finding his eyes hooded and filled with lust.

You moan around him and he lets you go, pulling out all the way back to his tip, taking a second to breath while you suck around it again, hard while you stroke him, turning your wrist as you go up and down, moaning at how his skin moves under your hand, at how soft his skin is, and how hard he is.

After a while you go back, swallowing him all the way and coming all the way to his tip, rolling your tongue around it and earning a groan from him. He holds you by your hair, keeping your head high as he starts thrusting inside your mouth. Slow and careful at first, but hard and rough once he finds less resistance.

Your hands go to his stomach and chest, to help you support yourself. You run them over his belly, indulging in how big and strong he is, in how you can feel his muscles flex to fuck your mouth.

"You don't let anyone else do this to you, you hear me? This mouth is mine, only I can be inside it, only I can have fun with it."

You moan in agreement. You don't want anyone else, you don't think anyone else will even look appealing to you anymore. He's burned himself as your favorite even before he looked at you, as soon as he walked out of that car, as soon as you landed eyes on him.

"Don't let any boys do this to you after you leave, baby. Would hate to know you had someone do this to you besides me. Only I can fucking use your pretty face like this."

You moan again, felling your arousal leak from your pussy. He stops and you sit back on the floor, recovering your breath for a second. He leans forward, fixing your sweaty hair and kissing your forehead, stroking himself once again.

You open your legs, and he looks at it. "Fuck, so fucking wet, baby." He says, panting.

"All ready for you." You say, tangling your words with a moan.

"All fucking ready for me, bet you feel so good. Would squeeze me so fucking nice, baby, would get fucking lost inside you, wouldn't wanna leave anymore."

You giggle, "Would be so happy being all full with you all the time." He smirks.

"Get back here, baby, this mouth making me happy enough for now." You do so, getting up with your mouth already open and your tongue already out, like you're starving and he's the best looking meal you've ever seen. When you're at his reach his hand comes back to your hair, guiding you to his dick.

You take him all the way, deep, hard and fast, properly fucking him with your mouth. His grip on your hair both forces you down on him and helps you stay steady while you focused only on making him cum.

"You're just trying to help your people, huh?" he laughs when you pull away, catching your breath. "Anything for them, yeah. Only thing on my mind right now." you respond his laugh.

"Oh, I know of better things for you to keep in your mind, pretty." he says in a sigh when you roll your tongue around his tip again.

You keep going, hard and deep, and soon enough — too soon, almost. You could keep going all day long — you feel him start to twitch inside your mouth, his chest losing its rhythm and his grunts getting louder.

You wrap your lips around his tip and suck him nice and hard, pumping him deep and fast with both your hands, twisting your wrists to increase the friction for him and looking into his eyes.

"Fuck — shit. Gonna, fucking — grunts —cum, baby. You're gonna take it for me? Huh?" He asks, and you smile, nodding and furrowing your brows when you taste him flooding your mouth. His hand pulling on your hair as he grunts and groans loudly, his hips instinctively thrusting into your mouth.

You keep sucking him for a while, your mouth full of his spend when he pulls your hair. "That's it, baby, thank you. Too fucking good for me." He says and you pull away, swallowing his cum and sitting back to breath a little. His hand once again comes to your hair and pushes it back, away from your sweaty forehead.

You get up and grab your plate, putting it on the fridge. "You're not gonna finish your food, baby?" He asks, finishing his pants, watching you pick up your dress.

"Already full, thank you." You say as you go upstairs, naked, making sure to sway your hips for him.

Now this should be more fun than just playing housewife.

✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥

✨🔥 Coming up: You understand why his people respect fear him so much, but it's a good thing if it's used to protect you. Right?

✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥

Hope you liked it, stay tuned for the next part 💝

Part two

#joel miller x reader #smut #fanfic #ghostfanwriter #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal's characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #raider!joel miller #dark!joel

521 notes · View notes

punkeccentricenigma · 5 months

Text

"He should (not) allow it." FUTURE!LEONARDO X FUTURE!HUMAN!READER

Relationship status: Romantic

Reader prounouns: She/Her

Words: 1566

TW: Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language, angst, toxic thinking, future setting

A/N: The idea for this story I had for a couple of months, and only now managed to bring it to life. It didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, but it's pretty close. Also, today is my birthday. Yay...

Enjoy

"What do you think, huh?!"

[Y.N] expelled a breath as she was pushed with rough gentleness into the center of a small private bedroom. Her brows remained unmoved, teeth clenched in anger.

"What's your problem, Leo?!" she responded with a question, straightening up to face the mutated turtle who forcefully closed the door, seemingly hurting it more than her.

Not sure what was going on, but not an idiot, she had her suspicions.

"Another base got attacked," Draxum said in a tone of indifference, but his old face betrayed considerable pain. "They're all gone."

The group gathered in the main room of the base under New York, or rather its rubble, expressed a collective murmur of additional words of disbelief or mourning; even if they didn't know these people, they were in the same position, knowing what they felt.

"What do we do now, Leonardo?" April asked, only showing furrowed brows. "It's only a matter of time before the Kraang and others attack us." Her words were logical, especially knowing how cruel and ruthless the aliens were, even to their own. Her chocolate eyes often noticed exhausted brains, dying from exhaustion, in their torturous work.

The turtle's eyes twitched slightly, probably not having slept all night, contemplating all of this since Donatello left. He had not only the planning on his mind but also the entire base's technology. He felt he was slowly losing control, but he couldn't show weakness, not now, not ever. "We'll have to boost the security and fuses; we can't afford them burning out during a potential attack," he said, adjusting his blue scarf. When was the last time he washed it? With a low water supply, laundry had become the worst option.

"Forgive me, leader," the dark eyes of the redearslicer rested on the slightly taller figure who raised his hand to stand out from the crowd. Ah, one of those geniuses who worked with his twin brother. You could see red eyes on the mutant—was it from fatigue or tears shed for a lost person? "But we'll need to conduct further reconnaissance to gather new materials for such an upgrade. Currently, we're lacking many things."

"Right..." Leonardo mumbled quietly, uncomfortably shifting his gaze. "So, we'll do it tonight."

"Yeah! Another round of taking down those damn meatbags!" Cassandra exclaimed joyfully, raising her hands with her wild gaze. Numerous deep scars adorned her bare shoulders, complementing simple childish drawings made by her son.

"However, many of ours were severely beaten last time; they're still in the infirmary wing," the African American woman pointed out sharply, crossing her arms. "We need to wait at least a week to carry out such an action safely!"

Leo had a strong urge to respond sarcastically to these objections but bit his tongue, not wanting to get into another argument.

"Well, then...!"

"I have an idea for a potential solution." All eyes turned again to the older goat when he spoke.

"What is it?" Leonardo's voice resonated lightly. He felt relieved that someone as intelligent as Draxum had an idea, but also uneasy, knowing his past.

"We'll use my mutagen to strengthen our power."

The turtle's pupils narrowed at the sound of his second 'father's' words. It was... unimaginable! "W-what?" he stammered, taking a step forward to stabilize his posture. "Use the mutagen? That damn slime?" He didn't want to use such strong words, but his shock exceeded his manners.

Baron Draxum cleared his throat, ignoring the term for his experiment. "I believe it's the best course of action in this situation. Analyzing past events and the likelihood of future ones, we need a survival factor."

Leonardo took in stale air, waiting for further elaboration on this idea. Why did he still feel uneasy hearing this?

"So, people would have to take the right dose of this green liquid to transform into the appropriate Yokai."

"That sounds absurd," the red-faced one acknowledged, placing a hand on his hip. "It's dangerous, especially in these conditions."

"I don't deny it, but I think it could eliminate most diseases for which we no longer have a cure." "And after failed attacks, people could have a better chance of defense and faster regeneration depending on the mutants they transform into. You know that well, Leonardo." The turtle automatically felt a tingling on his shell in places where previous wounds had faded over time.

"... Still, it sounds wrong." But why? Why do you think that way? Is it your current mindset, or is it from years ago?

"But... Draxum is right," April admitted, walking to stand beside the goat. "Without it, our chance of survival is low."

"Wait...!"

"We can test it today; I need at least one volunteer."

Everyone glanced at the person next to them, waiting for any reaction. Well, no one is deciding; it will be fine...!

"I... I volunteer." Leonardo's eyes widened as he noticed his partner, who, despite holding a box, raised her hand. There was determination on her face.

"You're being unreasonable!" Although Leo's voice usually had a light tone, at this moment, it was deep and aggressive. The fact that he strongly gestured with his only arm didn't help. "Agreeing to something like this? Are you insane?"

"Leon, listen!"

"No 'listen'!" The man snarled, approaching his beloved, causing an odd dominance. "What you've decided is utterly idiotic!"

"No, it's not. I'm just considering the well-being of the rest!" The woman held her ground, taking a step forward and delicately touching her chest to her fiancé's. Her eyes were sharp, causing a slight embarrassment in Leonardo's mind. He didn't usually behave this way, but he let his emotions take over.

"All that will result from this is total chaos and pain!"

"As if there isn't chaos and pain right now!" She emphasized, gesturing as well. She felt the pressure in her head increasing, and the hope for calming down diminishing. "You need to take a breath and think about it rationally, Leo."

"Ohohoho! Sure!" His tone became more mocking, and he started to pace, adding drama. "I've known that lunatic much longer than you. I know the messed-up things he's done! And you want that green crap to flow through your veins? You should have higher standards!"

"Apparently, I don't, since I chose you, someone who has the same thing in their body!"

A sharp intake of air escaped the turtle as he stood still. His face showed wounded pride, not from his fiancée's words but from his logical error. Fool.

After a moment, [Y.N] took a breath, wanting to calm down. "Leonardo, listen." Her smaller hands moved gracefully, as if she were trying to tame a wild animal that no longer existed in these times. "Draxum is right. Thanks to this slime, most of us will have a better chance of survival."

"That doesn't change the fact that it's total nonsense," the man muttered quietly, burying his chin further into the blue fabric. "Something like this is incredibly painful for an ordinary person, especially in circumstances where there's hunger, filth, death..." His voice slowly broke. Before, he didn't care much about humans; their rescue was just an addition to victory when he fought. But now? Especially since his dearest person is one of them?

"Leon, tell me directly what's going on."

"I feel awful," Leonardo began, letting his crystalline tears flow. "My brothers, Raph and Donnie... I couldn't save them...!" Before he realized it, he tightly embraced the woman, who motherly patted his shoulder or shell. "And even earlier, Dad..." pain "You don't even know how much I wish this invasion didn't happen, that everything was normal." "Or not to get used to every current situation; it hurts so much when everything 'falls into place,' and suddenly something crumbles or someone dies!"

"I understand you, that's why this mutation is needed."

"No, you don't understand..." his whisper pierced [Y.N]'s ears. He pulled away slightly from her silhouette to look into her [COLOR] eyes. "I don't want any changes because it's all I have when it comes to a connection with a normal past." His hand gently caressed the cheek of the person in front of him. "The fact that you're human reminds me of good times, of safety. If that disappears..."

A sense of guilt lingered in both of their hearts. For more or less rational reasons.

The woman averted her gaze, placing her hand on a larger counterpart of the turtle. She sighed softly and smiled reassuringly. "A-alright, you're right."

Another embrace, this time stronger than the previous one. "Thank you... I love you, and I don't want to lose you..."

"Same here..."

"But you know, I would look interesting as a mutated turtle!"

"You'd be bald as a knee."

"You say it as if it were a flaw, egghead."

Laughter echoed in Leonardo's mind as he looked in disbelief at the torn body beneath his feet, covered in red ash.

"This... can't be!" He immediately fell to the ground, brushing the sand off the face of the corpse before him. The man wasn't a believer, but with each passing second, he prayed for it to be a simple dream, a regular nightmare in his brain. Unfortunately... "[Y.N]!"

Amidst the distant sounds of battle, his roar and sobbing resonated among the rubble as he cradled the lifeless body of his fiancée in his plastron.

He should allow it.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt x you #rise leo x reader #rottmnt x reader #future #future leonardo #future leonardo x reader #angst

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doe-writes-stuff · 1 year

Text

You'd left. Off to take care of a personal matter in the west. Alone. With no way of knowing how long you'd be gone, or even if you'd come back at all, you'd parted on...strained terms. Despite the odds against ever seeing you again, Daryl made sure to keep a light on for you.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Slight angst, reader is described to have a female relative (relation not specified). Strong language, 18+ explicit sexual content, mixture of rough sex and slow body worship. Set during first half of season 9, but doesn't follow strict canon timeline or events.

"I should come with you."

"Daryl...you can't." You'd said, regret and guilt dripping from each word forced out of your mouth but doing your best to remain firm. They stung, but you didn't take them back. Didn't try to sugarcoat it. This wasn't easy on you, and no matter how much he understood why, it still hurt to hear. Watching you with your bag already packed hurt worse. "Rick needs you, Judith and Carol, and everyone else. It should just be me."

His head had shaken slowly. "They'll manage just fine without me for awhile."

"This could all be some pointless goose chase, and I...I feel bad enough even deciding to go, like I'm abandoning all of you, but..." He can see it, the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and the determination behind them to not let them fall. You hated crying. He knew that. "I need to do this. I need to know. She might still be out there."

"Don't mean you gotta do it alone, Y/N."

"I can't ask that of you."

"Don't have to."

"Daryl-"

"I mean it." He pushes, tone a bit more pressing than before. He shifts closer, drawing your eyes towards his own. He reaches down and takes your hands in his own, thumb idly brushing along your knuckles in comfort. "Goin' out there by yourself ain't safe. Ain't smart, neither. Need someone to have your back. Can't do things alone no more, you know that."

You're silent, worrying your lip beneath your teeth. He can't quite read the expression in your face, in your eyes. Your thoughts are too muddled, swirling with indecision and a plethora of emotions all vying for dominance. Terse seconds pass, silence between you, but eventually you've seem to come to a decision. His heart settles a little, satisfied that he'd made his case. Your head ducks down momentarily, which he takes as acceptance.

Daryl nods. "I'll tell Rick in the mornin' that we're leaving, maybe see if I can pack some extra provisions from the pantry. Doubt it'll take much convincin'. I brought back half that shit anyway."

The only response he gets is a small, slow nod. But it's agreement enough for him, and he pulls you into his arms. It's instinct now to relax under his protective embrace, allowing your fears and your guilts to fall away, if only for a moment. They'd come back in full when you next awoke.

"Come sleep." He mutters against your hair, feeling the way his lips press a kiss onto the crown of your head. Your eyes close. "We'll figure it out in the morning."

Your fingers clench against the back of his shirt, head buried into his chest. He's warm, the beat of his heart a comforting sound. One you know you'll be without for a long while. You make sure to breathe in his scent, filling your senses and making your decision all the harder to enforce.

And so you don't resist when he guides you back to bed, and you savor the way his hands feel on your skin. Devotion and love spill from his lips and yours. And when you lay beside him, listening to his even breathing as he falls asleep amongst the tousled covers, you try burning this memory into your head forever.

'Don't come looking for me.' 'I hope you can understand. I hope you can forgive me.' 'If it'd been Merle, wouldn't you feel the same?' 'I'm sorry. I will always love you, no matter what, no matter how long. Even if...I don't make it.'

Daryl stares down at the messily-scrawled note folded on his nightstand. He'd read at least 3 times by now, but had barely paid attention to the past few, the words blurring together. Noting the dried tear-stains on the edges, he feels a hollowness creep into his chest. It's as you say in your letter. Had it been Merle, all those years ago back at the prison, he'd have done the same.

He understands. He wished he didn't.

It would make it all easier to hate you. But he can't bring himself to.

The beginning days are the hardest. Your absence is a blatant, empty spot in his daily routine. He'd turn to say something to you, only for you to not be there. He'd stop by the house after hunts and scavenge missions to see you, only to remember the lights would be off and you'd not be home.

Each instance of forgetting, just for a split second, that you'd left sticks another proverbial knife in his chest and twists. They bring back the moment of discovering you'd left him behind all over again. It stung. It twisted the hilt a little bit more, digs the blade in a little deeper. It fucking sucked, each and every time.

Daryl had an excellent poker face, but even the others were beginning to notice how much it was affecting him. It was a lesson in patience, the amount of times he'd been asked if he was alright in those first few weeks after you'd left. Most of them he'd been able to field off with a gruff 'Just fine.' Others saw past the facade.

Rick had a good sense of things, and he knew Daryl well enough by now that his words often didn't tell the whole story when it came to those pesky internal 'feelings.' He'd asked him along on more scavenge runs, just to get him out of Alexandria. But of course, not one to pry too much into Daryl's business, he didn't ask the questions the hunter knew was hanging off the tip of his tongue.

Carol was one of them too, unsurprisingly. Half the time he thought she could read his mind. She made trips to Alexandria more often, popping over with pretty weak reasons for visiting from the Kingdom. She hovered, appearing at the most unpredictable of times. It didn't take a genius to know why. When Daryl least expected her, she'd be there with an offer to go hunt together. To go take care of Judith so Michonne and Rick could get out for awhile and spend some time beyond the walls.

It helped. He appreciated that Rick and Carol never pried. Rather, they were just...there. A companion to fill the long silences he found himself left with during the day. A distraction when he needed it most, since even solo outings past the walls were often filled with thoughts of you. Having someone else there eased the hurt, and muffled the many negative thoughts that clouded his mind in his moments of solitude.

Weeks stretched, and you were still gone. No means of communication meant Daryl was left to wonder about what you were doing, where you were, and if you were still even alive at all. It didn't get easier with time, the ache in his chest, the missing piece in his life. It just became familiar, and so he worked around it. Sidestepping it each and every morning until it was a constant numbness he had trained himself to ignore.

It was frightening, how easy it seemed to be. How easily he could seem to live without you around. Once upon a time, that didn't sound so feasible.

He felt guilty. He felt bitter.

He hoped you were doing ok.

Daryl didn't talk about you anymore. Not to others. And nowadays, Judith only occasionally brought up your name, asking where Aunt Y/N was, and when you'd be home. He was usually able to dodge an answer by offering to play a game.

There'd come a day when he couldn't get away with doing that, but...well, the time for that hadn't yet passed.

At some point, he'd quit counting the days. That didn't mean Daryl stopped missing you--he certainly still did. But the endless pull towards someone out there past the gates, miles and miles away, wasn't quite so strong. Whether it was a sign of him moving on, or just growing to accept the fact that you'd left...he still couldn't tell.

He didn't want to look into it all that much anyway.

Daryl hadn't heard anyone approaching as he stood smoking on the porch of his home. The wind was strong, and the neighbor's makeshift wind chimes had covered the sound.

"Borrow a smoke?"

His head whips back to see Rosita sauntering her way up to his home, arms crossed and hair tied back in a pony tail. He straightens, reaching up to the inside pocket of his vest to grab the pack of cigarettes as she stops a few feet away. Shaking one out, he hands it to her. After a flick of his lighter, the end begins to smoke and she takes a long drag.

"Thanks."

Daryl only hums in reply, standing there on this windy night, looking out towards the gated and walled entrance of Alexandria.

For several minutes, neither of them speak, enjoying their cigarette in companionable silence. Daryl wondered why Rosita was out so late, but figured maybe she just couldn't sleep.

Eventually, the minutes and lack of conversation gets to her, and she gives a quiet laugh, gesturing towards the door to Daryl's home. "You know you leave that lamp on every night in this front room?"

Daryl glances back, but only shakes his head. "I know."

"Drives Mrs. Beckett crazy." Rosita continues, flicking the ashes off of her cigarette, head nodding towards the house across from his. "Likes to bitch about how you're wasting electricity, or how she can't sleep because she knows it's on. It's like she can't talk about anything else."

"The grid can handle one fuckin' lamp." He mutters without further explanation, giving a shrug.

"I've told her that. So's Eugene, for what good that did." Rosita says with an amused smile, side-eyeing the hunter as she sucked down the last of her cigarette. She tosses it to the ground and digs it into the wood of the porch with her shoe. "Won't stop her from complaining about it, though."

He doesn't bother responding to that. Frankly, he didn't give a shit what Mrs. Beckett thought or wanted. He barely knew the old woman anyway.

"Why do you leave it on, anyway?"

This time, he doesn't say anything, just continues looking out towards the wall. He knows she's smart, that his silence speaks louder than any explanation would. Rosita figures it out quickly, and hums her understanding after a moment.

Another long pause settles, before she shifts in place and watches Daryl's closely when she speaks next. "I got talking with Eugene the other day."

Daryl had a feeling where this conversation was going--a place he didn't really want it to go--but obliged her clear bait anyway. "And?"

"Figured it was about 40 days to Cheyenne, on foot one way." She said carefully, not wanting to push too far, but hoping he still recognized she was worried about him. "35 if she pushed, and much less than that if she rigged a car."

Daryl knew what she was getting at, but still played dumb anyway. "So?"

Rosita saw right through him, but pointed out what they both knew despite that. "Daryl...it's been 6 months."

He straightened, agitation making him fidget, his jaw set tightly. "Don't mean a damn thing."

"Look, I'm all for holding out hope, but...at some point it's time to let go. How likely is it that she's still-"

"Think I'll turn in. Wind's gonna bring a storm tonight." He interrupted suddenly, not daring to look her in the face as he said his goodbye. "Best get headin' home."

He heard her sigh, and that tension in the air made it seem like she was about to say more. But in the end, she took the hint and descended the steps of his porch, footsteps heard walking down the sidewalk towards her own house.

For 8 months and 13 days, you'd been gone. And yet still, as you walked up that road towards the imposing walls of Alexandria, you felt like it was only yesterday that you'd snuck out the gates before the sun had come up.

The pack was heavy on your shoulders; not from supplies, but the weariness of a long journey. Of burdens and the weight of your decisions and actions. They settled, making your bones ache. But you felt lighter and lighter the closer you got to home.

Home. How you'd missed it so much.

And you'd missed him, too. Daryl had never left your mind. Not once.

Maybe the seasons had changed, but you recognized each abandoned car leading up to the Alexandria Safe Zone, even the particularly gnarled trees off to the side of the road. Little waypoints and landmarks that you'd memorized and passed by hundreds of times before. Now, each one seemed to propel your feet that little bit further, encouraging you to keep going.

Almost there.

And when those gates finally did come into view at the end of the road, you nearly cried. That feeling of relief as it washed over you was...immeasurable. Palpable and freeing. You couldn't begin to describe just how much it affected you.

There were, of course, look-outs at the gate for signs of approaching danger. And while you would've appreciated having been recognized after so many months away, you supposed that would have been too much to ask for.

"That's far enough!" The person on watch called, pointing a gun in your direction. From this distance, you couldn't tell who it might have been. "State your name and business!"

"My name's Y/N." You say, holding your hands out to make it clear you weren't holding onto a weapon. Your knife is clearly visible in its small sheath at your hip, but you weren't actively reaching for it. "I've been gone for a long time, but this is my home."

"Right." The person says with doubt clear in their tone. "As if I'd just believe you."

"I want to talk to Rick Grimes, then." You say calmly, smiling when the barrel of their gun lowered just a fraction. You felt a little silly having to name-drop some of the most influential members of the community, but whatever made them believe you, you supposed. "Or Daryl Dixon, or Michonne-"

"Alright, alright, hang on a second." They cried from the tower, lowering the gun and holding up a walkie talkie to their mouth. They spoke too low to hear, but you gathered they were calling into one of the three people you'd just mentioned.

You don't have to wait long, before a commotion on the other side of the gate alerts you to someone's approach. They call for the gate to open. Your heart soars, waiting to see a familiar face.

The metal gate slides open, and a man steps out cautiously. He's a bit rounder in the belly than you remembered--the benefits of safety in the end of days--and the full beard is new. But there's no mistaking the way he walks, and the way his eyes take you in when he steps past the gate's threshold.

A smile's broken out over your face as the two of you walk closer, until finally you embrace Rick with a tight hug, laughing at the reunion. If there was still any doubt that you were indeed a citizen of Alexandria, it was now dashed.

"About time you came home." He says in a rasp, patting his hand against your back in a comforting gesture. "It's been too long."

"I know. I'm sorry." You admit, guilt and regret coloring your voice. "I shouldn't have left."

You pull away, but Rick gets a good look at you and pats your shoulder with his hand. "You felt you had to. It's family. I understand."

You nod, on the verge of tears, but somehow managing to keep composed. "You're family too. Lost sight of that for a little while, I guess."

Rick waves you inside, giving a wave to the look-out at the on watch as a sign that everything was fine. You enter the walls for the first time in 8 months, admiring everything new and all that had stayed the same.

"How's Judith?" You ask.

"Growin' bigger every day. Can hardly believe she's already three." Rick smiles fondly, shaking his head. Then, he turns to look at you. "She asks for you, sometimes. Wonders where you've been."

The thought of seeing the youngest Grimes was appealing, though you were still weary from your travels. You probably didn't have the necessary energy to meet with her just yet.

"I'll see her once I've settled in." You promise, and Rick nods.

"It can wait 'til tomorrow. I'll let the others know you're back in the meantime."

Rick spends the next few minutes filling you in on all that you'd missed while on your trip. You're thankful to hear that most of it was minor little things. At least you hadn't missed another damn war, or anyone you loved dying. That would have been a lot to bear.

As you get closer to Daryl's home, Rick seems to remember something, and hesitates.

"Forgot to mention...Daryl's out on a hunt." He admits, no doubt crushing your hopes of reuniting with your partner that day. "Not sure when he'll be back, honestly, but I reckon he wouldn't mind if you were to stay in his home now that you're back. As I recall, you practically lived there anyway before you left."

Your laugh away the slight embarrassment at his observation, and the amusement is quite evident in his face. "Yeah, I guess that's true..."

"He'll be happy to see you." Rick states simply, stopping just outside Daryl's home as you approach.

"I hope so." You say, sudden doubt creeping in. You grimace a little, stopping at the stoop of the porch. "We didn't exactly...part on great terms. At least...I think so."

Rick reaches out and pats your shoulder again. "I won't lie, he took it hard. But I'm sure he'll make his peace with it, now that you're back. Love has a way of helping you sort things out."

And with that, he gives your shoulder a squeeze, before leaving you at the door to Daryl's home.

Something compels you to just take it all in. It was just like you remembered it being. A lamp stood lit behind the curtains in the front window. Strange...why leave the lights on when he wasn't home?

Stepping inside is a surreal mix of second nature and unknown territory. Daryl hadn't really changed anything in the interior; the couch and side tables and other trinkets around his home were exactly where you'd remembered them to be. But the atmosphere felt so...different. A little hollow.

Were you even still welcome here? You hoped so...

You deposit your pack next to the side table in the hallway, your usual spot for stuff after a run. Old habits, you thought to yourself. You'd put it back where it really went later on, but for now it would do. Your shoes went along with it, bare feet feeling blissfully unburdened without them on. Socked feet pad slowly throughout his home.

It's all just as you remembered, and your clothes are even still in the drawers in the bedroom. You figure that's a good sign, and change into something much more comfortable after a long-desired shower. The water is blissful on your skin, washing away the dirt of your traveling.

As you dry yourself and dress, you can't help but bury your nose in one of Daryl's shirts, reveling in the scent of safety and comfort. And while you may be missing the man himself, for now this would tide you over enough until his return.

With no pressing matters, and no clue as to what to even do now that you'd come home, you decide that a nap was much-needed. It may only be the afternoon, but the miles behind you were starting to make themselves known, lulling your eyelids heavier with fatigue.

You crash on the couch in a heap, falling asleep easier than you had in months.

Daryl didn't understand the knowing smile that Rick had given him upon returning to Alexandria late that night. Not to mention it was strange that Rick chose such a late hour to take watch. Not thinking much of it, he entered the gates and drove towards his home.

The rumble of his bike faded as he shut the engine off, popping the kickstand and standing from the bike. After a long two days of hunting with nothing to show for it, he was happy at the prospect of a nice, long sleep.

The house was dark, save for the light still on in the window, but he paid it no mind, closing the door and shrugging off his pack. He passed by the hallway side-table, setting it beside the other that was sitting by-

His steps halted, eyes swinging down to rivet themselves on something that was so incredibly familiar and yet so out of place. At first, it hadn't even registered that something was amiss. The sight of a pack here was so ingrained, that nothing had jumped out at him. But now...

He hadn't left that there. He didn't even own a backpack like that. But he recognized it all the same. And beside it...

Shoes.

A noise further into the house caught his attention. The spill of lights from the kitchen told him someone was there. He'd been certain to turn off all the lights before he'd left for his hunt.

And while a tiny sliver of his brain thought to suspect something malicious was going on--visitors didn't typically stop by at 2 in the morning--the hope that soared in his chest overpowered it.

It felt like the air was yanked from out of his lungs as he stopped just outside the kitchen entryway. There you stood, swaying back and forth to whatever music you were listening to in your headphones, the makings of a sandwich out before you. You faced away from him, unaware of his presence.

Daryl let out a stuttered breath as he ran a hand down his face, a swirl of different emotions welling in his chest. He was...pissed, actually. You'd left him behind all those months ago, lied to him to do it. All of the old anger bubbled and surfaced at the sight of you. He was hurt, wondering how you could have gone through with going off on your own, leaving your fellow survivors in your rearview.

At some point, he'd thought long and hard about exactly what he was going to say to you, should he get the chance. He'd known precisely all the bitter and spited words he'd want to throw into your face, telling you exactly what you'd put him through all this time.

He couldn't recall a damn single word of it now.

And despite how the wound had been ripped open seeing you in the flesh after all this time, despite the anger that raged and threatened to speak the venom that had once consumed him...he was too relieved to see you alive, safe, and in one piece to bother channeling that anger.

At the end of the day, you'd still come back. You'd come home. To him.

Instead, just below the relief of your return, rising steadily and with such intensity he hadn't anticipated, was a desire he hadn't felt for so long. How many nights had he lay awake, recalling memories of the softness of your body, the touch of your fingers on his skin? And now that he had you here...

His feet carry him forward before he can really think about what he was doing.

It's the movement in your peripheral vision that makes you look sharply up at him, startled but the sudden presence of someone else. You hadn't anticipated being interrupted during your midnight snack.

But he's here. He's there, getting closer by the second. You yank your headphones out, holding out a hand. You probably should have rehearsed what you'd say to him beforehand, to try easing the hurt and betrayal he must feel.

"Daryl, I'm sorry...I-"

You can't manage anything after that, given his lips smash to yours in a bruising and long-overdue kiss. Shock sets in for a single second, a mumbled grunt swallowed by his mouth, but then leaning into his embrace as his arms wrap around you, pulling you in, was instinctive. You fall into that familiar, safe feeling, wondering if perhaps this was always how your eventual reunion would have turned out. Daryl was always a man of action rather than words, anyway. The time for apologies could come later.

You can hardly breathe, locked in his arms, at his mercy. He kisses you like he never thought he'd ever get to again. And maybe for the longest time, that's exactly what he'd thought. A pang of guilt stabs you through the heart, realizing the sort of pain you'd caused him by leaving, but Daryl doesn't give you the chance to dwell on it, teeth slowly dragging back along your bottom lip and pulling a whine from your throat.

And, god, how desperate you sounded...it made him groan. That sound haunted him for weeks on end. How could you so easily rile him up like this? You leave for months, and all it takes is a pretty little noise to get his blood boiling with need. Fuck if he wasn't just as desperate for you, too...

He couldn't stop himself. Like a recovering addict caving, going back to his fix, his hands touch you any place he can reach, rough palms smoothing over your curves. The clothes in the way is annoying, confining. Part of him wants to yank and tear them away from you, but another side wants to try calming himself down, taking this first time together again slow. It had been so long, he didn't want to fuck up the first chance he could.

Your mind is a hazy fog of sudden lust, so much so you barely register the way he's reached down to lift you by your thighs and wrap you around his waist. His strength has you dizzy, drunk off of his scent and his warmth and the way his fingers dug into the skin on the back of your thighs. It made you tighten your legs around his waist, the sensation of him walking you somewhere else secondary to the way you did what little you could to grind yourself against the crotch of his jeans.

You wouldn't have been able to answer if later asked how you managed to get to the bedroom so quickly. One second you'd been in the kitchen, and the next you were being slammed onto the comforter by your back, Daryl's large and corded frame practically smothering you in the best way.

Your head tilting back with a pleased sigh, Daryl takes the opportunity to latch onto the exposed skin of your neck, intent to leave a mark. The thought of something permanent on you, from him--a sign of some sort that he couldn't put into words at the moment--felt important. And by the way you were moaning as he gave the flesh a rough suck, you seemed to agree.

One hand trails under and up his shirt, taking advantage of the closeness to explore the body you'd gone so long without once more. The familiar texture of scars in all the places you remembered. Muscles like gentle ridges under your fingers. They trail along his nipples, stroking in appreciation and pulling a surprised grunt from him, before frustration kicks in and you hastily tug the shirt up so he could take it off.

It's discarded somewhere behind you, and thus begins the frantic undressing of each other, heavy, panting breaths making it clear just how much neither of you were able to slow down now that you'd started. There'd never been a greater need to eliminate all barriers between you than now. As soon as his jeans and underwear are low enough to expose his hard length, your hand takes hold of it, giving him several loving pumps.

His curse is stuttered, wavering. Barely more than a huff of air released as the tension between you grows steadily. Daryl wastes no time in reaching for your wet cunt, two fingers plunging in without preamble. Your back arches up, wanting more. A keening noise escapes you, and hearing it just spurs him to start a fast and demanding pace as he fucks you with them.

The wet sounds they produce are obscene, but your head is nearly bursting with how damn good it all feels. You're a moaning mess, trying desperately to keep up with your own ministration of his cock, wrists working back and forth a little faster. His hips thrust into your hand instinctively, seeking more friction, a faster pace, something more. And while you know Daryl typically tries to keep quiet in the midst of sex, he just can't help the groans this time around.

Maneuvering your leg around his waist, you draw his hips closer to where you need him, lifting your own to brush your wetness against his hardened shaft, tantalizing and teasing. The time for foreplay was over, at least in your mind. Heart pounding a painful beat in your chest, you can't imagine waiting any further to feel him fill you entirely.

Daryl's fingers retreat from your wetness, and although their absence makes you groan, the press of his tip is more than enough to sate your once more.

Strangely, he doesn't immediately thrust in, rather pulling his head back enough to just...look at you. You look back, silent. One hand, still wet from your own arousal, trails delicately over your nakedness, over the curve of your hips and the sides of your breasts, as if reassuring himself that you were real. Or perhaps taking the opportunity to relish in having you underneath him once more. The jarring contrast to the frantic pace you'd both just been exhibiting has you blinking, struck silent.

But the moment is over almost as soon as it began, cut short by the jerking of Daryl's hips, sheathing himself fully to the hilt in one smooth motion. A mixture between a gasp and a whimper is jolted from your throat, the pleasure catching you entirely off guard. You barely have time to wrap both legs around his waist before he's setting a steady pace, his own ragged breath exhaled onto your shoulder.

He fucked you rough, sparing no time in reminding you of just how much pleasure you'd missed out on all these months. The familiar yet forgotten sensation of his cock stroking your inner walls had you crying out, overwhelmed, wanting more. Your nails dig into his skin, scratching and clawing when the pain only spurns him on faster.

You're mesmerized by the flexing of the muscles in his arms, hands planted on either side of your head on the comforter, fisting the fabric between his fingers as he pistons his cock deep inside of you. And when your eyes follow the arms up and peer into his face, his expression is a mixture of frustration and adoration the likes of which you had fantasized about during your many lonely nights.

Anger flowed like water behind his eyes, recognizable even now, but it never lasted long. Always overshadowed by such relief, such love, that you began to wonder if you'd ever seen it at all. Talking would come later. Right now, you both just needed him to fuck you until you couldn't stand up.

You weren't destined to last long. The time away meant that your orgasm built up much quicker than you would have hoped or expected. It just felt too good, having him atop you, inside of you, surrounding you this way. All you could see and breathe was Daryl, and that alone had your legs tensing around his hips in unspoken warning of your impending orgasm. With a responding groan, he understands, putting further effort into the snap of his hips, plunging even deeper than before.

When you cum, it's like white-hot frost crackling over your senses. Inch by inch, you feel yourself shudder, letting the peak of your pleasure overtake you until you're seeing black dots at the edge of your vision. Your limbs lock around Daryl like a vice, making it more difficult for him to move as you ride along the bliss. He grunts, unable to do much more than rut against you, chasing his own release in any way he can.

As the most of the orgasm passes, Daryl shifts and uses his hands to pry your legs apart, keeping them wide as he frantically thrusts, ragged breathing giving away just how close he was. You're a twitching heap beneath him, letting him seek that edge with your body, accepting the overstimulation in stride. When it nearly proves too much to bear anymore, he's stuttering a moan and slowing his hips down remarkably, chest heaving when he finally meets you over that crest.

Lazy thrusts work the both of you through your climaxes, and the rough and unrelenting pace that had been there just moments before slowed to a much more relaxed one. As Daryl caught his breath, he lowered his mouth to your skin, shaking hands caressing the sweaty skin he could reach, peppering kisses on your stomach and sternum.

You lack the breath to speak, and simply let all of your inner feelings shine through the gentle gaze you give him, tentatively reaching a hand up to glide your fingers through his hair. He always used to love when you did that, and it seemed that was still the case. His eyes closed in content at your touch, and he lowers his head to rest upon your chest.

Eventually, after dozens of minutes simply laying there, basking in the aftermath of your reunion, you summon the forethought to recognize you should probably clean up after your passionate fuck. The heat was slowly dying away, the house's draft that never seemed to go away chilling the sweat upon your skin. However, when you try to move, Daryl makes an effort to put a stop to it, leaning more heavily into you.

"Not yet" He mumbles gravely, not opening his eyes. You huff a breath, the corner of your mouth lifting in amusement.

"Daryl, we're all sticky and sweaty."

"Just...stay here." He says, eyes finally cracking open to peer into your own. And try as you might, you're at the mercy of the heartbreakingly pained gaze he directs at you. The vulnerability. The hurt. Months of uncertainty and guilt and anger stirred up into that one look, pleading for you to understand that he just needs you here. Right here, and nowhere else.

The amusement shifts into something gentler, and you give an affirmative nod, trailing one finger down his cheek. "Ok."

#daryl dixon #daryl Dixon x reader #fem reader #the walking dead x reader #twd #the walking dead #scenario #daryl Dixon smut

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sugawhaaa · 2 months

Text

BEOMGYU X READER

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆Late night ride☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Warnings::None (?)

Genre::idol au, slow burn, soft

Pairings:: beomgyu x fem!idol!reader

Synopsis:: After hosting as a MC for sbs you and your members decide its best for them to leave early and you'll catch up with them later. After a mis calculation you end up having to ride with the txt members

A/N:: I am so happy to finally be finished writing this first chapter. I really hope it does well!!

Character notes:: your group name is "L.I.A" and there are five members who will all be introduced in this chapter

This is set in temptation era which will be relevant to the story. (It doesn't matter too much which era you think it's in after this chapter)

"That was Y/N and Yeonjun! Thanks for watching Music Bank!" You said with a wave and a smile towards the camera. Your MC partner did pretty much the same. You sighed when the camera turned off and fanned yourself with your card of notes. You hopped off the platform and went to meet up with your group members in the dressing room. You went down the long hallway of the SBS building taking off some of your jewelry.

You finally found your group's room. A L.I.A poster on the door. You rushed into the room. "Sorry, I'm late, there were some complications," you said as you sat down on one of the make up chairs.

"Y/N?" One of the staff members said softly.

"Yeah?" You replied and looked up at her.

"This isn't your makeup station, yours is over here," she smiled politely and gestured her hand to your proper seat.

"Ah! Sorry," you stood up and moved over to the other seat. You sighed as a staff member undid your hair, brushing out all the tangles from the unique braids and twists.

"You're so scatterbrained recently," Hanna sighed as she played on her phone. "Maybe you need some R and R," she smiled at you. Hanna is the third oldest member and she's very considerate and laid back. She is a hard worker, always dancing in the practice rooms but she knows when it's time to take a break.

"Maybe this weekend we could go out to a spa, go relax in a hot tub or something," Areum proposed with a smile. She looked exhausted on the inside, once all her makeup was off she had circles under her eyes and she looked pale. She got hardly any sleep last night because she was worried about today. Comeback showcase day.

"Yeah, that sounds nice!" Everyone agreed with bubbling energy except the maknae.

"Well I can't make it," mi cha said as she laid on the white couch with her legs up on the armrest. Her Nintendo Switch glued to her face. "I'm going out with won young, Rei, and yujin," Mi Cha said as she clicked the buttons on her Switch.

"Says who?!" Yina put her hands on her hips as she stood over top of Mi Cha. Yina was always the one to get Mi Cha into line. She makes sure that the group sticks together and that everyone agrees on things. Mi Cha on the other hand would rather die than work together.

"It's fine," Areum the Unnie chimed in. "Just make sure you aren't seen by fans and stay safe," Areum sighed before turning her phone off and standing up. She walked over to you and put her hand on your shoulder. "If it's okay with you me and the members would like to leave soon, it's very late and all of our things are packed up. If it's okay with you we'll be leaving," she said tiredly.

"No problem," you smiled with a thumbs up.

"Some of the staff will be staying behind packing up makeup and things so you can ride with them alright?" Areum explained with a smile as the other girls grabbed their purses and hats to leave.

"Okay, see you guys at the dorm," you waved to the members and they all smiled while leaving. Except for Mi Cha, she stayed glued to her phone. The door shut behind them and you finished getting undressed and ready to go home. You wore comfortable sweatpants and a cropped shirt. Not too short but just enough to balance out the ratio of length in the outfit. To top it all off you wore a Loverboy hat.

It had been only about 10 minutes since the members left 15 minutes at most. You went to the front of the building to find the van for you. You saw some of your staff packing things into this white van so you went up to them. When you approached the door the window rolled down to reveal Mi Cha.

"Hey girlie~ I got caught up in talking with nmixx so I took this van! There's another one showing up to take you so you can catch that one alright~" she said before snapping her gum in your face as her phone lit up her face. You looked at her unamused.

"You sure you can't just push over a little?" You crossed your arms as you saw the space in-between her and the staff next to her. She glanced over.

"The staff have to put more things there," she explained before setting her purse there. "You understand. Be a good Unnie and wait would ya," she smiled cheekily before rolling the window up. You went back inside and rubbed your arms.

"Damn it's cold out there..." you mumbled to yourself as you waited before the doors. You watched for a van to pull up but none of them belonged to you or your staff. Then you got a call from Areum. You picked up the phone and just as you were about to say something into the speaker Areum spoke first.

"Where are you!? Mi Cha said you were gonna be there shortly after you!" You chuckled awkwardly.

"Well..." you explained the situation and after Areum dragged Mi Cha by her Ear.

"You left her!?" Areum yelled away from the mic but you could still hear her loud and clear. After a long and loud conversation you found out you'd have to find another way home. That was until you felt a tap on your shoulder. Your co-host Yeonjun.

"Couldn't help but overhear, you can ride with me and my members," he smiled as he gestured behind him. When you gazed behind him you saw his members arguing while one of them was on the verge of falling asleep. You had seen all of them around before due to being in the same company as them but the member who looked like he was about to sleep right then and there was extra familiar. Oh, of course, soobin. He's very popular globally.

"Oh that'd be great thank you!" You said as a wave of relief washed over you.

"Don't thank me yet, you'll have to squeeze in with everyone," he chuckled and gestured to his members to come over. Two of them looked like they were about to strangle each other. Black and brown-haired. The one with pink hair walked behind the other two and next to Soobin. He had one earbud in and a hoodie. Soobins blonde hair was messy and poofy, All in his eyes. Yeonjun chatted to them about the situation and all the members smiled saying "It's no problem," and they'd be "glad to help out," at this point, you were too tired to care about who it was that sits next to you or how long it'd take to get home or even how loud they'd be. All you knew was that you didn't want to stay at the SBS building all night by yourself.

There was some idle chit-chat between the members before their van finally pulled up. You waited for the members to go in first so you could pick your seat when they were all situated first. You were silently hinted to sit in the middle row, beside Taehyun and Beomgyu. Pink-haired guy and brown-haired. You had to walk in front of Beomgyu to get to the seat in the middle…awkward. You put your foot up to step into the van and Beomgyu extend his hand to help you up.

You thanked him softly and sat next to him, situating your purse on your lap. You buckled your seat and waited. Awkwardly. You kept your body close to itself trying not to touch your shoulders or legs with the other members but it was basically impossible to do so. At first, the members were talkative but after a while, they put on their headphones or earbuds and just relaxed on the way home. You did the same, slowly dozing off. The street lights buzzed by through the window onto your legs and you watched the lights with tired eyes. You had to fight to keep them open. Eventually you gave up and shut your eyes. Sitting there with your head hanging.

You weren't asleep but your eyes were shut and your body was pretty much lifeless. You felt a hand gently caress your head and set your head on his shoulder. It relieved the ache in your neck that you were too tired to fix earlier. Then your mind went foggy and you had finally fallen asleep.

When you woke up the van was at a halt and the members were getting out of the van. You rubbed your eyes and tried adjusting to the lights from the inside of the van. Beomgyu smiled at you as you looked up at him, your cheeks pink. It was Beomgyu who set you on his shoulder to sleep. He stepped out of the van and helped you out. Not a word had been said between the two of you yet...there was such a bond already forming.

You got out of the van and stretched. "Thank you guys again, so much, for taking me with you. I don't know what I would've done without your help," you smiled at soobin and yeonjun.

"Of course, no problem at all," Yeonjun smiled with a thumbs up. Soobin still looked like he was about to collapse. Taehyun came up to you with a little suitcase behind him. He put his hand on your shoulder.

"Sorry if we woke you up throughout the drive," he smiled wide with his Boba eyes.

"I didn't wake up at all. I was outcold," you sighed with a shrug. Taehyun looked amazed.

"Wow you must be a deep sleeper," he put his hand on his hip, his cardigan moving slightly.

"Come to think of it Beomgyu kinda has that aura about him. When he's not being a total fool and hooligan he's quite comforting. Many people tend to fall asleep around him," Yeonjun says as he puts his finger to his chin. Beomgyu came up behind him with a smile. "Unfortunately me too," Yeonjun sighed and Beomgyus's smile faded. He jokingly pretended to strangle him before laughing.

After a little laugh, it finally struck you. Despite both of you being under Hbye, it didn't mean that your dorms were side by side. The dorms are split up by gender. Male on one side of the building and female on the other side. That was to ensure there was no conflict or rumors between idols. TXT was obviously dropped off by their dorms which meant you had to walk all the way around the building, in the freezing cold, by yourself at a quarter to midnight…not scary at all. You sighed.

"I guess it's time for me to uh…walk back," you said as you rubbed your bare stomach.

"What do you mean walk back?" Taehyun asked.

"Well my dorms are on the complete other side of the building so I gotta walk around it," you explained as you used your index and middle finger to create two legs to demonstrate what you had to do.

"That doesn't seem very safe," Beomgyu said, which was what everyone was thinking.

"Well…there's not much I can do about it," you shrugged.

"C'mon I'll walk with you," beomgyu said with a playful shrug.

"O-Oh, okay if you're sure," you smiled. Butterflies flutter in your stomach. Beomgyu followed you and waved to the members. You thanked them all again before walking off.

"If you want you can have my jacket," beomgyu smiles as he looks down at you.

"Yeah, thank you," you grin as he takes off his jacket. The scent of his fills your lungs. It was such a complicated scent. It felt like…comfort. Like a warm towel but how it smells. You zipped up the jacket and bowed to him in thanks. Then the air got painfully quiet.

To be continued...

#txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt hard hours #txt beomgyu #txt #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu #beomgyu smut #beomgyu #chapter 1

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 10 months

Text

The Ironies of Life (Part 4) - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster/ Fem!OC (Naomi)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: (Unplanned) Pregnancy; Exes to Partners; Emotional Angst; Pregnancy Complications; Hospitals; Referenced Labor and Delivery; Carole and Goose are Mentioned; Named Female OC (Naomi), but No Physical Descriptions

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Naomi and Rooster welcome their child to the world.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Master List

Rooster spent the rest of the weekend up with Naomi’s family setting up the nursery and just generally preparing for the baby’s arrival. Naomi thanked him for making sure that she got into bed safely after she fell asleep in the nursery after her baby shower and Rooster told her not to worry about it. And that was all that came of that.

After the baby shower weekend, Rooster and Naomi left on better terms. And with the baby’s due date coming up, Rooster was very thankful for that. They had been texting back and forth pretty much every day. Naomi kept him up to date on her latest pregnancy milestones and appointments. Rooster found himself staring at the updated ultrasound photo before he went to bed every night and every morning when he woke up.

But then that little voice in that back of his head would scold him for getting attached and he would stow it away again, only to repeat the cycle the next day.

He didn’t want to claim that he was a thousand percent ready to be a dad, to be a co-parent with his ex, who lived hours away from him. But it was getting easier to picture. It was getting easier to slip into that fantasy. Even when that voice in the back of his head told him that he was crazy for thinking that it was attainable and maintainable, it was getting harder to fight the urge to picture that picket fence kind of life.

“I was talking with Cyclone today,” Hangman stated, causing everyone to turn to him. They were all sitting out back of the Hard Deck, soaking up the sun after a long day. “He seems to think that we'll be called up soon. Within three months is what he told me.”

“That sounds about right,” Phoenix agreed, tapping her fingers on the table. “Frankly, I was expecting us to be deployed sooner.”

That had Rooster whipping his head around.

Naomi’s due date was two weeks away. A date that was now burned into Rooster’s brain. Any date that got thrown around him, Rooster always measured it against Naomi’s due date. He already informed Cyclone about Naomi's due date and Cyclone told him that he couldn’t guarantee anything, but he would try his best to make sure that Rooster was there.

But there was nothing that Cyclone would be able to do when it came to a deployment. If they got called up, they got called up, and it would have been like Rooster never even tried to reenter Naomi’s life or be there for the baby in the first place.

“Really?” Rooster asked Phoenix quietly, who quickly noted his concerned expression.

“Relax. It probably won’t be for some time,” she replied, sensing his nerves. “You’ll make it.”

Rooster nodded, blinking a bit rapidly, before he took a couple sips of his beer and calmed down. Falling into a casual conversation with Bob and Fanboy, Rooster didn’t notice his phone vibrating on the table. If it wasn’t for Phoenix nudging him in the side, he would have completely missed the call.

Taking his phone from Phoenix’s outstretched hand, Rooster flipped it over to see that Sydney was calling him. Raising an eyebrow, Rooster answered the phone call as he stepped away from the table. The conversation died down a bit as the rest of the Daggers glanced over at him curiously.

“What’s that about?” Bob asked Phoenix, who shrugged in response.

“Hello?” Rooster answered, confused.

“You need to get here. Now,” Sydney stated, not beating around the bush at all.

“What? Is Naomi in labor?” Rooster questioned, raising his voice a bit in surprise.

“No. Not yet. She passed out. Collapsed. At work,” Sydney replied, causing Rooster’s blood to instantly run cold.

“What?” he breathed out. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

“She’s at the hospital. I’m driving there now and I haven’t talked to her or the doctors yet. I’ll keep you updated, but if you can get up here, get here. Now.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Rooster promised before hanging up the phone.

The other Daggers seemed to hear the panic in his voice because when he turned around to grab his keys, the other Daggers were already standing up, ready for action.

“What do you need?” Phoenix asked bluntly, reading the panic all over Rooster’s face.

~~~~~

Naomi sighed, rubbing her bump slowly as the doctors and nurses moved around her. Her mom and her sister Sydney were sitting on either side of her as the doctors continued to study the monitors. Naomi was clearly exhausted and very much embarrassed, but she thought that she was just a little dehydrated and sleep deprived. Nothing more.

“Can I go home yet?” Naomi asked softly, earning a sharp look from her sister.

“You just passed out and you’re over eight months pregnant. Don’t be stupid.”

“Sydney, your sister is aggravated enough,” their mother called from the other side of the room. Turning to one of the nurses, Naomi’s mom smiled kindly. “Do you have any kind of update that you could share with us? Anything at all?”

“We’re waiting on an obstetrician,” the nurse stated, typing something into Naomi’s chart. “In the meantime, you should focus on getting your blood sugar up.”

Naomi sighed, leaning back, and holding her hands to her face. It was already embarrassing enough that she passed out at work, on one of her last days before she took her maternity leave, but now it looked like she would be spending an extended period of time in the hospital when all she wanted to do was curl up in her own bed and shut out the world.

“I just want to go home,” Naomi sighed, exhausted and emotionally drained.

“Honey, it’s probably best if you just hang out here for some time. Just until we’re sure that you and the baby are all set,” Naomi’s mom stated, patting her daughter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you just take a breath, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

Naomi nodded, focusing on her breathing for a few moments, until the sound of rapid footsteps down the hall caused her to open her eyes again. She turned her head just in time for the curtain blocking off her emergency room section to burst open, revealing an absolutely frazzled and stressed-out-of-his-mind Rooster.

“Rooster?” Naomi gasped, sitting up in her bed.

“Are you okay?” Rooster asked, rushing around to her bedside. Sydney shifted out of the way, making space for Rooster. “Are you and the baby alright?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Naomi assured him quietly, blinking rapidly. “How did you even know that I was here?”

“Your sister called me,” Rooster stated softly.

Naomi to shot a glare in Sydney’s direction only to find that Sydney excused herself from the whole room. Growling out in frustration, Naomi leaned back against her bed as her mom got up, glancing between Naomi and Rooster.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” she spoke with a knowing look.

Rooster waited until Naomi’s mom stepped out of the room and drew the large privacy curtain again before turning back to Naomi. His ex-girlfriend seemed annoyed by his presence and he was beginning to wonder if he crossed some unwritten boundary by coming up here to check up on her.

“Did you want me to go too?” he asked, causing Naomi to immediate whip around.

“No, no,” she quickly replied, grabbing his hand, as if she was worried that he would slip away in a second if she didn't. “No, I, I want you here. I just, I thought that you had work and everything else and I was just dehydrated and I didn’t see the big fuss in it to call you and freak you out and everything.”

“Naomi, I don’t give a shit about what else I have going on,” Rooster responded firmly, causing Naomi to pause. “You’re in the hospital. That’s my first priority. Always.”

“Did you get emergency leave?”

“Yeah, I called Cyclone and he granted it,” Rooster replied softly, nodding along. “He said that if you went into labor, he would just send me on paternity leave.”

“Well, I don’t think that she’s coming any time soon,” Naomi mumbled, rubbing her bump.

Of course, her little slip up went unnoticed by herself. But Rooster noticed it. His eyes widened a fraction and he stood there in shock for a few moments. Naomi turned back to him, a bit confused at his sudden silence.

“What?”

“We’re having a girl?” Rooster asked, causing Naomi to start to panic.

“Shit, I—I’m so sorry!” she apologized, holding her hands over her mouth as tears came to her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Bradley! I knew that you wanted to wait and I just forgot because I’m just stupidly tired and I’m so sorry, Bradley!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rooster replied, grabbing Naomi’s hands away from her mouth and getting her to look at him. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You wanted to wait and I ruined it,” Naomi started to cry, simply overwhelmed with her day.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Rooster assured her, squeezing her hands. Tears came to his own eyes as he stared down at her large bump for a moment before turning back to Naomi with a watery smile. “We’re having a girl. A little girl.”

“Yes, we are,” Naomi agreed, tears still streaming down her face.

Rooster gently pulled Naomi into a hug, emotionally overwhelmed on his own. Rubbing her bump as Naomi buried her face into his neck, Rooster finally let himself accept the fact that he was going to become a dad. He had been frightened, terrified, absolutely out of his mind with stress after Sydney called him. And during the short flight and trip here, the same thoughts kept flying through his mind.

He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose Naomi. He couldn’t lose the baby. He couldn’t lose his daughter.

And that emotional distance that he forced himself to maintain from the idea of having kids, which was more of the result of his childhood trauma than his own personal desires, chipped away all the more. He held Naomi close and didn’t dare let her go. Not when he was so close to losing her and the baby. Even if it was just a scare, he wasn’t going to take them for granted ever again.

“May I come in?” a voice called from outside the drawn curtain, causing Naomi and Rooster to release each other.

“Please,” Naomi replied, sniffling and wiping away her tears.

“My name is Dr. Nazario. I’m an obstetrician in the maternity ward here at the hospital,” the obstetrician explained softly, standing on the other side of Naomi’s bed. “We’re going to briefly transfer you to the other side of the hospital to check you and your baby over.”

“And then I’ll be released?” Naomi asked, causing the obstetrician to pause and glance up at Rooster.

“Let’s just see how the two of you are doing first before we make any decisions about that.”

A nurse arrived to unhook Naomi from the monitors. Rooster texted Naomi’s mom and her sister to tell them what was going on before gathering all of Naomi’s things and pushing Naomi in a wheelchair down the hall. Naomi was quickly hooked up to several different machines and Dr. Nazario conducted an exam and an ultrasound to see if their baby girl was healthy and happy.

The obstetrician was calm and methodical and didn’t give anything away as she did her checks. Rooster stood on the balls of his feet, ready for action, and offered Naomi a hand, which she quickly took to holding and fiddling with to try and keep her own sanity.

“Alright,” Dr. Nazario stated, turning back to Naomi and Rooster, “it seems that you’ll be here with us for a little while longer.”

“I’m sorry?” Naomi asked, sitting up more.

“What’s wrong?” Rooster questioned, squeezing Naomi’s hand reassuringly.

“Nothing extreme,” Dr. Nazario assured both parents, her face calm and neutral. “But your baby’s blood pressure is lower than it should be and seems to be getting lower.”

“What?” Naomi gasped, protectively wrapping an arm around her bump. Rooster’s expression steeled but internally he was panicking. Absolutely panicking. But he couldn’t let it show. Not when he could feel Naomi’s anxiety radiating off of her. “But she was fine at my last check up! They said that—”

“—She’s fine now,” Dr. Nazario interjected, trying to keep Naomi calm. “She just needs to come sooner rather than later.”

“Like a C section?” Naomi asked, causing Dr. Nazario to shake her head.

“No, no, you can give birth naturally. But we’ll have to induce you,” Dr. Nazario explained, causing Naomi to freeze. “You still have plenty of time and you should get your rest now. But in a couple of hours, we’ll need to induce you so that it doesn’t get any worse.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Naomi sobbed out, causing Rooster to immediately drop to her side and pull her in for a hug.

“No, not at all,” Dr. Nazario replied calmly, resting a hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it just happens this way. It’s nothing to be scared about and there’s certainly nothing to blame yourself over. We’ll take good care of you here, alright?”

“Thank you,” Rooster stated for Naomi, holding her close.

“Try and get some sleep,” Dr. Nazario suggested, causing Rooster to nod on behalf of Naomi.

Once Dr. Nazario was out of the room, Naomi immediately burst out into tears, burying her face into Rooster’s chest. He held her as close as he could, rubbing her back and her bump as he tried to remain calm himself. Naomi was the one going through it right now and he needed to support her. She needed him, their daughter needed him, and he wouldn’t let them down.

“What are we going to do?” Naomi whimpered out, snapping Rooster back to the present.

“I’m going to text your mom and your sister and tell them to come down here. One of them will go and grab your stuff from the house and bring it back here. And we can email your boss to tell them that you’re taking your leave early. And then you should sleep, if you can,” Rooster listed off, maintaining his composure. “And then they’ll induce you and our daughter will be here and it’ll all be fine.”

“Please don’t leave me,” Naomi begged him, causing Rooster’s heart to shatter in his chest.

“I won’t,” he vowed, pressing a kiss to her head. “Not again.”

~~~~~

Naomi eventually settled to sleep, exhausted from her day. They already talked to her boss about her maternity leave and Sydney dropped off the hospital bag and the car with the baby seat before heading home herself. Naomi’s mom promised to be back in the morning and Rooster stayed by Naomi’s side the whole time.

When he was certain that she was asleep, Rooster stood up from his seat and walked out of the room. Shutting the door behind him quietly, Rooster headed down the hall so that he wouldn’t disturb Naomi or anyone else. Stepping outside the ward for a brief moment, Rooster pulled out his phone and made a call.

Maverick picked up before the first ring even finished.

“Bradley? What’s wrong? Is Naomi alright? And the baby? What’s going on?” Maverick asked, rapid fire.

“They’re okay,” Rooster stated shakily, glancing back at the ward. “But, uh, they’re going to induce her.”

“Induce her?”

“Yeah, the baby’s blood pressure is low and they’re worried that it’ll keep dropping. They’re going to induce her in the morning,” Rooster explained, tears stinging his eyes. Sitting on the bench, Rooster held his head in his hand. “Mav, I’m so scared.”

“Bradley, they’re going to be fine. There’s a whole team of doctors there to help.”

“There was a whole team of doctors for Mom, Mav, and they didn’t do shit,” Rooster sobbed out, letting his emotions from the day out all at once. “I can’t lose them, Mav. I can’t. I fucked up too much with them and I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to them.”

“I know, Bradley,” Maverick reassured him, remaining calm on the other end of the line. “But this isn’t like that, okay? Those doctors birth a hundred babies a week. And, hey, they didn’t rush her to surgery or anything like that. They probably see a whole bunch of cases just like Naomi all the time. It’s going to be fine, Bradley. They’re going to be fine.”

“Can you come up here?” Rooster asked, pathetically, like a child. “Please, Mav.”

“I’ll be there, Bradley,” Maverick promised his godson. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Can you sit tight until then?”

“Yeah, I can,” Bradley stated, wiping his tears away. “Thanks, Mav.”

“It’s what your parents would have done,” Maverick told Rooster, who let out a shaky breath, dropping his head again.

“Yeah, it is,” Rooster agreed quietly, wiping the rest of his tears away.

~~~~~

Naomi was induced early the next morning and gave birth to a healthy little baby girl fourteen hours later.

Sobbing with just pure joy, Naomi cuddled her newborn daughter, who was screaming and crying and shaking her fists. Rooster, keeping a steady hand on Naomi’s left leg, leaned down to inspect his daughter, crying right there along with Naomi and their baby. Naomi looked up at Bradley with a watery smile and he pressed a loving kiss against her head in response.

“You did it,” he praised her, rubbing his thumb on her thigh and pressing another kiss to her shoulder. “She’s here. And she’s so beautiful.”

The nurses briefly took their baby away to look her over and make sure that she was healthy. Rooster did his best to soothe Naomi, who was on the edge of her bed and physically leaning towards her baby. And when the nurses returned, Naomi quickly took her daughter back into her arms.

“She’s so tiny,” Naomi whispered out, tracing their daughter’s face with her finger.

“What do you want to name her?” Rooster asked, barely breathing as he stared down at their daughter.

“What about Carole? Or Caroline?” Naomi offered softly, causing Rooster to turn to her with wide eyes. “After your mom.”

Rooster gulped and looked down at his daughter for a moment, running a finger slowly through her soft hair. Naomi stared up at him, waiting for him to react. She knew how much Rooster’s mom meant to him. He was a mama’s boy in his heart and he had to bury his mom while he still needed her. And Naomi wanted her daughter to still feel close to her paternal grandparents.

“Maybe her middle name?” Rooster suggested after a long pause, tears still in his eyes. “She should have her own name.” Trailing a finger along the crown of his daughter’s head, Rooster turned back to Naomi. “What did you want to name her?”

“I really liked Mila,” Naomi replied, staring down at her daughter with a soft smile.

“She looks like a Mila to me,” Rooster agreed, resting his head against Naomi’s. “Mila Carole.”

“Welcome to the world, Mila,” Naomi mused before turning to Rooster. Noting how Rooster seemed to barely be breathing, his brown eyes studying every millimeter of their daughter’s face, Naomi smiled encouragingly at Rooster. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Rooster asked, noticeably perking up.

“Hold your daughter,” Naomi insisted, causing Rooster to stand up straighter.

He carefully leaned over and took his daughter into his arms for the first time. Naomi kept a supportive hand on Mila’s head until Rooster straightened up, holding Mila on his own. Naomi smiled widely as she watched Rooster’s face break out into an expression of complete awe and devotion. Mila was small, not even a full six pounds, and looked even smaller in Rooster’s thick arms.

“Hi, Princess,” Rooster choked out, trailing his finger over her little clenched hand. "I can't believe that you're here." Choking back some intense emotions, Rooster pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart. So beautiful."

Mila grabbed her dad’s finger gently, her puckered lips parting a bit as she let out a noise. Rooster leaned down and pressed another kiss to the top of Mila’s head, trying to not let his tears drip onto her delicate little face.

"I love you, sweetheart," Rooster told his daughter as he held her just a little bit closer. "I didn't tell you when you were in your mommy's belly because I was an idiot back then, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much, Mila. And nothing is ever going to change that. Ever. I'm never leaving you again, Mila."

Pressing a kiss to Mila's nose and causing her to scrunch up her face and stick out her tongue a bit, Rooster chuckled to himself, rubbing her face gently with his finger. He turned to back to Naomi and was surprised to see her looking like she was on the edge of tears. Quickly stepping over to Naomi's bedside and bending down a bit so that he was closer to her, Rooster shot her a concerned look.

"What's wrong? Did you want me to call the nurse?"

Sniffling, Naomi leaned forward and pressed an emotional kiss to Rooster's lips. He froze for a moment, shocked that Naomi, after all that he put her through, would initiate a kiss with him. But just before he was about to return the kiss, Naomi pulled away, shocked at her own actions.

"I'm so sorry. I . . . I just . . ."

"You don't have to explain it," Rooster spoke quickly, before Naomi could say that she regretted the kiss. Adjusting his hold on Mila, he turned back to Naomi. "We'll talk about it. When you're rested and healed up."

"Thanks," Naomi sniffled, smiling softly.

"I should be the one thanking you," Rooster replied, turning back to stare down at Mila.

~~~~~

Rooster walked into the waiting area, still wearing a stupid, absolutely lovesick smile to grab Naomi’s mom, sister, and Mav. Sydney was the first to spot him and quickly got to her feet, followed closely by her mom. Maverick stood up slowly, smiling to himself at Rooster’s expression.

“She’s here,” Rooster stated, stopping in front of the three of them. “She’s five pounds, twelve ounces. Perfectly healthy and beautiful. And we named her Mila Carole.”

“And Naomi?” Sydney asked, still concerned.

“She’s doing fine. Tired and sore, but she’s doing well. She said to come back and meet Mila,” Rooster encouraged, gesturing down the hallway.

Naomi’s mom and Sydney hurried down the hall, eager to check up on Naomi and the new baby, leaving Rooster and Maverick in the waiting room. Turning to Bradley, Maverick couldn’t help the tears forming in his eyes as he smiled proudly up at his godson.

“Congratulations, Bradley.”

“Thanks for coming, Mav.”

The two men shared a tight, meaningful hug, both letting the happy tears slip out briefly. Maverick gave Rooster a squeeze before leaning over to pick up the small gift bag that he brought along. Rooster took the gift bag from Maverick’s hand but stared at him questioningly for a moment.

“Just something that I brought along for the baby. For Mila.”

Rooster nodded and opened the gift bag. Reaching inside, Rooster slowly pulled out a white goose stuffed animal. Letting out a light chuckle, Rooster ran his thumb over the stuffed animal before pulling Maverick into another hug.

“Thanks, Mav.”

“You don’t thank family,” Maverick replied, giving Rooster another supportive squeeze.

Pulling away slowly, Rooster grabbed Maverick by the shoulder and gestured down the hallway.

“Come meet her,” Rooster insisted, pulling Maverick with him.

A.N. And that's the end of 'The Ironies of Life'! I might write an epilogue, but I'm still waiting on inspiration for that. Thank you to everyone who read, reblogged, and commented on any of the parts of this series along the way!

Tag List:

@gxlden-honey @caidi-paris @xoxabs88xox @badasspizzalover @rosiahills22 @midnightmagpiemama @indigomaegrimm @pinkpantheris @itsmytimetoodream @appledressing @senjoritanana @averagereader35 @abaker74 @avengersfan25

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster top gun #rooster #rooster x oc #rooster bradshaw fic

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severussnapemylove · 6 months

Text

For @add-a-bit-of-neurospice <3 Took some editing time to get the story line right. AU, Severus and reader are childhood friends turned sweethearts. Sev doesn't become a death eater and he and reader leave Hogwarts together after graduation. Reader's dirtbag father is being troublesome. Tried to kept the details pretty neutral for the individuality of the reader. Title is from "Not while I'm around" by Stephen Sondheim.

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Not While I'm Around

You and Severus had walked away from everything the day after graduation. You'd known each other since you were nine. Inseparable friends, first in Cokeworth, then Hogwarts. You were each other's confidant and protector, you told each other things no one else knew. And you both knew exactly why neither of you wanted to set foot in your childhood homes ever again. You'd found a cheap place to live and some work. And somewhere along the way of finding your own place in the world, you and Severus had realised how much you loved each other.

Unfortunately, walking out on your old life hadn't been as easy as you'd hoped. You didn't know how your father had found your new address. But seemingly out of nowhere he had. First it had been phone calls, which lead to you unplugging the phone from the wall. Then the letters. All of which you tore up and burned without reading. You didn't care what he had to say. It would just be the same manipulative, gaslighting spew it had always been. Your breaking point was when you'd gone to the shops one day and he'd found you there. Trying to push you into talking to him, saying that you couldn't just ignore family. You felt ice in your veins and sick to your stomach. Without a word, you pushed past him and almost ran home.

When you reached your flat, you shut the door hard and locked it before leaning your weight against the wood. The sound of the door slamming drew Severus's attention away from his writing and he hurried towards you, concerned at the state you were in. "Y/n? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He asked, softly. His hands tracing your face and arms, checking for signs of harm. You collapsed against his chest, tears finally falling and he wrapped his arms around you, half holding you up as he lead you to the small couch. "What happened, Love? Tell me." You stayed curled up in his arms with your head against his chest while you cried and told him about your father cornering you in the store. He stayed quiet till you'd finished and kissed the top of your head, "It's alright, my love. You're safe now. I won't let him near you again. I promise. And we'll be leaving here soon, remember?" You started to smile a bit at the reminder. Severus had secured a job at the Apothecary in Diagon Ally, you were moving to London soon. Hopefully far enough to finally be free of your old life.

The two of you stayed cuddled up on the couch for a while longer, before a knocking at the door startled you both. Giving you a reassuring squeeze before getting up, Sev went to the door and checked through the peephole. As he suspected, it was your father. Sev looked back to you, "Wait there, I'll handle this." he said before opening the door and walking out, shutting it behind him and keeping your father hidden from your view.

The man looked at Severus with distain, "Who the hell are you? I'm looking for my kid." Severus fixed the man with an icy glare and said coldly, "I believe y/n has already made their opinion of you clear. Leave, now." "I'm their father, you can't keep me away." The man spluttered. "A poor excuse for one. Y/n does not want to see you. Now leave, before you find yourself turned into something unpleasant and washed down a storm drain." Knowing he didn't stand a chance against Severus's magic, your father had no choice but to relent and headed down the corridor. Still fuming but intimidated by Severus's cold black glare and the threat aimed his way.

Severus went back inside the flat, locking the door behind him and casting a protection seal on the lock just in case. His heart ached when he saw you, curled up in a ball on the couch with tears silently sliding down your face. He gently freed your arms from your folded up position and pulled you up into a tight hug, "I've got you. He's gone, he won't be getting near you. And we'll be far away from here soon." You pressed your face against the crook of his neck, feeling your stress slowly start to ebb away. You'd always felt safe with him, ever since you were a child. Things would work out right eventually, and as long as Severus was there, the ghosts of the past couldn't reach you again.

#Hope you like this :)#If you know the movie Truly Madly Deeply?#The way Jamie picks up Nina into a hug is how I'm picturing how Sev hugs #Tried to find a gif to add but couldn't find a good one #severus snape #severus snape x reader #pro severus snape #reader insert #gift fic #fanfic #AU #young severus #tw trauma

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saradika · 11 months

Text

— WASTELAND, BABY

part i. the fear and the fire of the end of the world

[masterlist]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 3.4k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, canon-typical violence & death, mentions and use of guns/weapons, death of people and animals, sort of slow-burn

a/n: I’m so excited to share this series with you! Reader is new to the world, so much will be explained (game knowledge not required to enjoy!)

The year is 2297, and your days in Vault 113 are spent among the pages of your books - of fairytale romance, of noble knights and handsome princes. That is, until you venture from your Vault, and are immediately thrust into the harsh and cruel world of the Wasteland.

And when you find yourself being rescued by a man in armor - you can’t help but wonder if those beloved stories might just have come true.

You still dream about the sleep.

In shades of sepia, the perfect days that never seemed to end. That always seemed to be just a little bit familiar, like you had taken each exact step before.

The idyllic neighborhood, slow jazzy notes floating in from open windows. Cars that rolled down the street until they were out of sight, always at the same time. Perfectly behaved dogs, in their neat, square yards.

Now - now that you're out - you don't know why it took you so long to notice.

Maybe you didn't care. Were content to play through that single, perfect day. To ignore - at first - the glitches. The fuzzy part of your brain that said that something wasn't quite right.

The itching memory, that something bad was going to happen. Something you had picked at, until it was raw and aching and oozing.

You wonder if that is why you woke up. That something in your brain triggered the stasis - the reason why on that morning, your eyes opened to shades of green and grey.

A dome of glass overhead, a sick pneumatic hiss when you hand flattened against it. The mask you tore from your mouth and nose as you were born onto the tiled floor, shivering and confused.

It had all come back to you.

The blaring of the siren.

The man, ushering your family into the vault.

The promise, whispered with clasped hands.

It will all be okay.

We'll be together, don't worry.

Climbing into the pod, the slow sleep that came after. Waking up, in your old life.

Never waking up that way, again.

You had sat in silence, for hours. Unsure of what to do, where to even start.

Freezing in place when there was a whirr, the sound of movement - as a robotic being rolling into the room, checking the readouts on the large display.

With thick treaded tires, and a sleek, domed head. A mass that looked like a brain floated inside with one large, fixed mechanical eye. It churned your stomach, as it chirped at you.

You are 1825 days ahead of schedule. Please return to your tranquility lounger.

The pod wouldn't let you back in, though you had tried. The red button pushed flat, the screen unresponsive. Leaving you alone and helpless as you looked at the circle of others.

Of your family and neighbors and friends, still in their perfect dreamland.

You lingered there, a while longer. Too afraid of what was beyond its safe walls. Only nudged into moving when the cramp of hunger became unbearable, until you couldn't take the repeating, robotic lines any longer.

Metal doors had opened into other rooms. Empty and sterile and shades of grey steel. Bits of your memory came back - the hallways you ran through. Glimpses of what lied in them, in your rush to the pods.

Eventually, you found a mess hall. Twin machines lined the walls - white with cherry red accents, rows of cafeteria-style tables in front of them. They were still humming with life when you approached, reading the lettering across the top in blocky, silver print.

VAULT-TEC FOOD SYNTHESIZER

The press of a button dispensed thick, pink paste onto the metal tray beneath. It felt like mush in your mouth, the vaguest flavor of something, but not enough to mask the unpleasant texture.

But, much like everything now - the loneliness, the isolation - you learned to bear it.

There are some things you found, in the days that came after, that were not quite so horrible.

A room full of beds, where you tested each one to find the best. Stripping the pillows and blankets, until yours was as close to cozy as you could get.

There was a device you found, in a room full of bubble-screen computers, with their black screens and green, blinking text. It sat half-out of its box on one of the tables, and you were unable to resist removing it from its casing.

A screen sat in the middle, on top of a thick, leather strap. A booklet fell out - the pages now dog-eared and crinkled from the amount of times you read it. The first lines still seared in your memory.

If you're reading this, a scorching wave of atomic fire has likely turned the surface into a wretched husk of its former self... which means your Vault has been activated! You now have in your own hands one of America's finest, easiest-to-use personal-computational tools: the Pip-Boy.

It becomes one of your prized possessions.

Sitting heavy on your wrist, an endless supply of screens and dials that entertained you for hours. Readouts and documents and even simple, chirping games to fill the empty hours with.

The other thing you came to cherish most was the library.

Well, you called it that - though it barely compared to the ones in your memory. It was a small room - a pair of plastic chairs, beneath a thick, metal shelf lined with books of all shapes and sizes.

You'd read them all, in the months you stayed there. Even ones that made your eyes burn with their dryness; Dean's Mechanics, Infiltration Techniques Vol. 2, Pugilist Quarterly.

Fingering tracing over the thin pages, trying to make sense of things you had never heard of before.

But your favorite were the fairy tales. Just four books, among the two dozen.

Grimm and Perrault. Andersen and Lang.

Their books thick and illustrated, the spines and covers stamped with gold.

The romances were the ones you visited, again and again. Younger you would have loved the macabre - evil witches, plucked out eyes, soul-wrenching betrayal.

But in this new world, you couldn't bear it.

You got lost in the pages. The girl who fell in love with the Beast, who was not so monstrous after all. Another, who risked everything to dance with the Prince, only to abandon him at midnight when the spell was broken.

When you grew bored, you created your own tales. Princesses that were swept off their feet. Knight fighting dragons, a fluttering in your chest when you thought about the romance.

The twisting and twining of limbs and tongues, the slow build that lead into soft, contented sighs.

They became your comfort, as the days passed.

So similar - in ways - to the ones when you had been asleep. The same routines. Paste, read, sleep.

The same clothes - the blue and gold jumpsuit you had woken up in. That the others wore as well, in their sleep. Each one the same, with the vault’s number emblazoned across the back.

On your Pip Boy you read it was to protect you from the elements outside - but here, it only added to the monotony of your day.

Every variation of an afternoon you had done at least once. Poking into every corner of each room. Fingers tracing over the glass screen of the pods, watching your family sleep.

Reading the books again, and again. Using the bits you picked up to learn more about your Vault, what had happened.

It took you a solid month to key into the computer terminal in the main office. Clicking on different words in the scramble of letters that poured across the screen, trying to crack the password protection.

Getting frustrated and giving up - only to come back again the next day.

Finally, the beep as you were let in. Clicking through the files, piecing together a mess of text that was scattered across numerous logs over the years.

That you were in Vault 113. That it was created in partnership with several more, and a copy of the previous, 112.

That some of the Vaults were created to be an experiment. A test to see how humanity would fare, released in key waves after the Great War of 2077.

Held in a cryosleep stasis - the first to be opened at 25 years, and then at 50. Continuing every quarter-century until 225 years has passed. Ending with your vault, scheduled to be released last.

The dread settles in as you started to understand what they had meant when you woke up.

That you were early.

That all you can do is wait.

You don’t even know where you’d even start - no idea if they would fare as well as you did, to be woken up ahead of schedule.

And so, the days ticked by. The marks you scratched on the wall next to your bed slowly increasing. One for each morning you woke up, until there's 182 of them lined up in neat rows.

Finally - coming to the realization that had been nudging at you for days, for weeks. The one that had been keeping you up at night, though you wished for the unconsciousness of sleep.

That you can't sit around for 4 and a half more years, just waiting. That wasn't a life, any way to live.

That you'd go mad, talking to your Pip-Boy, the robots that only had a few lines of verbal programming.

You had to know, to see. To go out.

Into the world. Alone.

You'd watched the videos.

The short animated films. The cartoon boy with the vault suit like yours, as he explained life after the fallout. How it would be different - tips on survival, how to keep sharp, how to use your own experiences and talents to your advantage.

It helped, giving you an idea of what to expect, but you hated them. The little acronyms, the cheesy animation - they seemed to mock the massive loss from nuclear annihilation.

The grainy, black-and-white recordings you find, after.

Prepared and left by the Overseer that no longer stayed there - who passed on the responsibility to the robobrains that still stood watch, when another Vault position opened.

They had made you weep, to think about what happened. Until you chest ached and your eyes stung. You couldn’t watch some parts, thinking about all those who had not been able to get away. Unable to help wondering about your extended family - your friends.

But it still hadn't prepared you for how vast and cruel the Wasteland was.

It had taken you another two weeks to actually open the Vault door. Dragging your feet as you collected supplies. Trying to pack everything you'd need while also trying to leave plenty in case someone else woke as you did.

Canteens of water, extra vault suits. The pink mush spooned into glass jars, clinking in your backpack, as you checked the space another time.

Leaving a note on the terminal, where you hope they'd find it.

But eventually, you had to try. You'd stalled long enough.

And so, after marking the Vault’s location on your Pip-Boy - you left.

You’ve been out for a week now. That alone feels like an accomplishment.

Not expecting how barren the world would feel, even with the preparation. It mirrors the muted browns from your dreams, though there's no hazy edges here.

Just a broken landscape of trees - still standing, stripped bare and bleached by an unforgiving sun. Crumbling roads, and what little grass endured was burnt and brittle. The air dry and thick in your lungs with the dust that kicked up, as you had carefully left the vault.

Misfortune had befell you almost immediately.

Barely out of the crumpled building that held the Vault, down the worn asphalt path, when there had been a scuttling sound. Fear and bile in your throat when a roach the size of a cat crept from the ruins, poised to spring.

Unable to do more than to grasp at the ground, fingers wrapping around a solid bit of wood. You can still hear the crunch of collision when you close your eyes, before you took off running, not wanting to see the aftermath.

The petrified branch still sits by the door, just in case.

In the half-standing farmhouse you've set up base in, until you're brave enough to wander further. That has been unnerving as well - seeing places that were different from your memories.

You had gone home, first.

It had seemed natural, though the fear lingered in your stomach, making your steps heavy. Following the road for three miles, all the while trying to force the puzzle pieces to fit. Broken bridges over dead streams, street signs that lead to crumbling, empty lots.

The road you lived on had been hit hard. It had ached - nothing left but the skeletons of your life before. Tumbling brick and rotting plaster. Chipped tile and broken floors, creaking under your feet as you stood where the kitchen once was. Must like your life before, it was just - gone.

The sentimental part of you had rooted around. Finding a rusting, red bottle cap in the ruins. A silver spoon found in the shattered remains of the counter where you grew up baking cookies.

You took them both, tucking them into your bag.

The farm you had found next, late the first night. You had been there before as a child.

The owners opened their property for apple-picking, hayrides, bonfires with sweet, melting smores. It had been a memory you had forgotten, until the bit of still-standing roof appeared on the horizon, beckoning you to it.

You'd do anything to have more of them. The memories.

The owners are gone now, as is the orchard. Just rows of thin trunks left, the branches dead and brittle.

With the wasteland around you - so very different from the safe, metal walls, the honeycomb of simple rooms - you wish you had stayed.

But much like waking up, you knew you couldn't. That you couldn't undo what happened, or forget the things that haunt you now.

Now - you spend your days wandering out. Poking around the barn to see if there's anything to take with you.

Finding a bit of joy, in some small moments.

In your books, as they soothe you to sleep. The stories are long-memorized but still bringing such comfort.

In the funny, two-head cow that had half-scared you to death when you first found it - that you know think is sort of cute. Almost poetic, in a way.

She wanders the fields behind the barn, and sometimes you go out to sit with her - keeping watch from a distance.

In your Pip-Boy, with the radio that hums out tinny tunes throughout the day - there's only a few of them it picks up, the songs on loop.

Picking through the holotapes of data - finding out that your new friend is called a Brahmin, mutated after years of radiation. It’s not much, but it's something.

It gives you hope that there might be someone else out there. It gives you the strength to think about moving on.

And you do find them - a semblance of civilization - but not in the way you hope.

You’re sleeping when it happens. Curled up in a bedroom on the second story, trying to avoid the holes that litter the hardwood floors.

It’s barely morning, the sunrise a weak, watery yellow as it peeks over the ridge. Though with a start you realize it’s not the light that has woken you. That rarely made a difference, after your time in the Vault.

Too afraid of the dark to turn off the light.

It’s the bellowing.

At first, you don’t know why it makes your skin prickle. After all, Minnie made those sounds when she first saw you - snorting and pawing at the packed earth, both sets of eyes dark and wide. Slowly settling, in the hours after - when all you did was watch from behind the fence.

The pieces click into place.

There was something out there.

You’re just getting up to look, when you hear a wild shout. The sound echoing, followed by a sharp, echoing crack.

The bellowing stops.

Your gasp is loud in the silence. Hand pressing over your mouth as your heart thuds in your chest - aching. The floor beneath you creaking as sink down onto it, trying to make yourself small.

But the voices move closer. Different tones overlapping, arguing - from the open field, then to the barn.

Then, to the house.

Your breath in your throat as the front door bangs open, a sharp voice cracking through the air.

“-lay off the fuckin’ Jet, mate. You’re fuckin’ paranoid as hell.”

The floor creaking as they move through the living room. An annoyed grunt, the rattle as something metallic clatters to the floor, making your stomach flip.

“Told you man, I heard somethin’,” Another voice answers.

Your heart drums so loudly in your ears, you’re certain it has to be audible. Tucked underneath the window, in clear view of the staircase.

If you don’t move, they’ll see you. You’re certain of it. The videos had warned you of the lawlessness, but nothing could have compared you for the fear that paralyzes you.

But, you try to be brave. Three feet to the right and you should be safe - your heart in your throat as you shift your weight, to move just out of sight.

The floor groans.

The voices downstairs stop.

You bolt.

Feet like lead, disconnected from your brain as you make for the stairs - thinking you can make it out. Skipping steps at a time, hoping that you won’t fall and break your neck. Ankles aching as you hit the bottom, sights set on the door the left open.

Almost making it out, when there’s a shout. A sharp “fuckin’ knew it” that sounds entirely too close. A gloved hand that reaches out, snagging your elbow.

Sending you off balance, slamming into the brittle wall. Pain radiates from your hip, the wood splintering from the collision. The hand closing around your ankle, yanking you hard.

The man pulls again - dragging you to the side, through the open doorway.

You’re gasping for breath, trying to yell - though nothing comes out. The air knocked from your lungs as you’re tugged across the porch, one of the steps cracking against your head as you try to grasp onto the railing.

It splinters under your grip, one of the spindles breaking free. He lets go when you reach the bottom, calling up to the second that lingers in the doorway.

“Check inside. See if there’s any more.”

A foot pressing against your shoulder, pinning you to the ground as he leans down, barking out a harsh laugh.

“Thought you could hide?”

He’s even more terrifying up close. Dark paint smeared around his eyes, dripping down his cheeks like tears. Dressed in a mismatch of leather clothes, nails driven up through the fabric at the collar. A spiked shoulder pad made from bent metal, the sharp edges a deep, rusted red.

You take a deep breath… and then swing.

The makeshift weapon collides with the side of his head, and then shatters. With a loud yell he stumbles, and you scramble - pushing yourself onto shaking knees, and then feet.

“Goddamn bitch,” He snarls, and there’s footsteps from the house, calls coming from the barn.

You don’t make it to your feet before you’re looking down the barrel of a gun. Fear and a strangled whimper in your throat as you hover in a half-crouch, hands coming up to shield your face.

A shot fires.

There’s a bright red light that sears through your closed eyelids, the smell of something burning. You open them just in time to see the man pitch to the side, his body glowing with a heat you can feel. Disintegrating as you watch, turning to ash before he hits the ground.

You can barely hear the yell from the others, the sound of your heartbeat drowning the world out. Faintly aware of one cracking shot, and then another, a deep reverb echoing across the flat plane.

Rocks skittering on the ground around you, the tremor of heavy steps and sharp mechanical hisses. Loud cries and shots traded as you cower, unable to look away from the scorched earth where a person just was.

And then, everything goes quiet.

A shadow falls across you, and you’re looking up. Seeing the figure that’s crumpled against the stairs. The unmoving peppering of bodies littering the ground, out near the barn. Never making it any further.

Up, and then up - to where a giant suit of armor towers over you. Painted in shades of green that you thought you had forgotten. A long rifle tucked in the crook of its thick arm, the end a hot, steaming red.

It’s head tilts - as a low, mechanical voice breaks through the silence.

“Its dangerous to wander the wasteland alone, ad’ika.”

ad’ika - little one

thank you for reading! 💚 part ii will be out thursday, the 9th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

(0-pressure tagging some friends that liked the sneak peek 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights , @wingofshadow , @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force , @valentine-tx, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved)

#please mind the tags!#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett imagine #fallout au

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