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hazelfoureyes · 5 days

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A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage.

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly.

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.” Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock.

You might have hit the man on the back of the head.

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him.

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face.

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.”

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap, hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles.

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours, still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.”

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse.

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.”

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it.

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag.

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking, you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help.

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly.

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic.

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course.

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest.

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with.

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, ��I’d stop.” He would.

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.”

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry.

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all?

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?”

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance.

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught.

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you.

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though?

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic.

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you’d change your mind.

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.”

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.”

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper.

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy.

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest.

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention.

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.”

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing.

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure.

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin.

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else.

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock.

Diamonds are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes.

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?”

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed.

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob?

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing?

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse.

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer?

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate.

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?”

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet.

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman.

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment.

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer.

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.”

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home.

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily.

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along.

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!”

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips.

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

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🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

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#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor #human alastor #alastor smut #alastor x you

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tragedybunny · 7 months

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Moon Blood - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW, TW: Period Sex

I know it's been done before, but it's the most delicious notion.

Reader awakes one morning to find themselves menstruating. Astarion has a plan to help them clean up.

It starts when you wake that early afternoon, your body’s way of celebrating its liberation from the tadpole apparently. Two days out from the near cataclysm and you woke to the uncomfortable warmth of blood spattering your thighs. Early, an annoyance. Beside you, Astarion dozes peacefully, sleeping what little he needs to, arm wrapped tightly around you as though you could vanish if it weren’t. You’d been doing what you could to help the city, but after everything that had happened, he was your main priority. Perhaps that was selfish but didn’t you and him deserve a little selfishness?

Across the room you eye the wash basin, so close but so far with your love’s death grip on you. Delicately, you try to move him, enough to slip out, but not wake him. Pushing his arm down only causes him to hold tighter and you push again, a little harder. “But Darling,” he murmurs and wraps both arms around you, to drag you close. At this rate you were going to ruin the bed in the room you’d very kindly been given.

“Astarion,” you whisper and shake him, frustration growing.

There’s a little pang of guilt when his eyes slowly open, you do hate to wake him when he actually sleeps. “Is something wrong, Love,” he asks sleepily.

Unguarded and disheveled, he’s incredibly alluring, more so because you’re the only person in the world to see him like this. For a moment you forget to answer as your body fills with an ache for him, heightened by your current state. “Uh, no, I’m, I just need to get up.”

Eyes widen, suddenly alert, and he sits up, inhaling sharply. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s…,” why is this so embarrassing, it’s perfectly natural, “it’s moon blood.”

The look on his face shifts from concern to hunger. “Moon blood,” he repeats, glancing down to your red stained thighs, tongue idly licking his fangs.

Warmth travels across your skin and you know it's turning a bright shade of red, the insinuation you think you hear in his tone makes you shiver. “Y-yes, love, and I need to clean it up,” he can’t really be thinking that.

“Perish the thought my Darling,” you swallow thickly. "That would be such a terrible waste." The way he hovers over you gives you a sense of being prey and you almost whimper out loud. Reaching out, he tilts your head up, capturing you in a deep kiss, and then whispering in your ear. "Allow me."

The thought is intoxicating even as it feels forbidden. Your mouth is too dry and your voice doesn't work. "I…," you only manage a breathy gasp after that.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl, and tell me that's what you want," he speaks against your ear, nipping the pointed tip of it.

Still holding your chin, he forces you to look him in the eyes. "I-I want you to clean me up." He smiles devilishly and gestures for you to continue. Your startled mind takes a minute to realize what he wants. "Please."

"Good girl," you quiver at the words.

With gentle firmness his hands push your shoulders back toward the mattress, before tossing the discarded blanket to the floor. "Spread your legs," he commands, encouraging you with an insistent grip on your thighs. "Gorgeous," he exhales at the sight of you.

Kneeling between your legs, he captures your lips again, and then begins to kiss down your body, firmly pining your hands back down when you reach for him. The message is clear, you've surrendered control to him. Little nipping kisses are planted from your neck to your abdomen, special attention is lavished on your now overly sensitive nipples. You fight to keep your hands at your sides as he trails his tongue over one before you feel the sharp bite of one of his fangs. Your hips buck and you whine. "Please."

"Patience my Love." The torture continues on your other nipple until you're writhing. Only then does he resume his path, pausing just before reaching your eager sex.

"Hmm," he torments you, "so much to savor."

He licks a wide swath over one of your crimson painted thighs and sighs. "Astarion," you whine, mad with need.

Ignoring you, he takes his time cleaning up your thighs, savoring the taste. Working his way closer and closer to where you want him the most, only to pull away and start on the other. Groaning, you frustratedly slap the mattress. "Girls who can't behave themselves don't get my help," he teases and you quiet.

The first swipe of his tongue against your cunt brings a moan to your lips. The euphoria has just begun though. Slow, languid licks explore you, tasting the blood and slick of your arousal, lavishing every inch of you. Astarion groans against you. "You're delectable my Darling," his words are punctuated by his tongue penetrating you, leaving you mewling.

Two fingers start to caress your sensitive bud as his tongue continues to torture you, pushing as deep as he can. His own little noises of pleasure join yours as he devours you, lapping and sucking until you're desperately writhing against his face. "Astarion, I need t-," your words are lost as his mouth moves to your clit, taking it between his teeth and sucking.

"Come for me my sweet," he commands, fingers entering you and moving with the perfect rhythm to set everyone of your nerves on fire. With his divine attentions you don't last long, crying his name as you see stars.

He isn't done though. Before you can come down, he shifts back to kneeling and looks down at you, chin painted red and eyes hazy with lust. "Yes," you breathe, in answer to the question he hasn’t asked yet.

He thrusts inside you, the sensation of being filled so quickly, so completely, pulling another moan from you. "Always so eager for me," he growls, driving you mad.

Holding your hips in an iron grip, he fucks you with a wild need. So much for the borrowed bed you lament for a second before being washed away again. "Gods," you pull your legs back to your chest, desperate to take him as deep as possible.

"Fuck, Love," he groans, "taking it so good. My little bloody mess. Naughty girl might need to be cleaned up again." The words do you in a second time and you come, quivering around him.

He doesn't let up his pace, every moment of your orgasm filled with fresh sparks of bliss, until with a last deep stroke you feel his seed pumping into you. He leans down, kissing you, and the taste of all of you on him is intoxicating. "Sorry Love," he pulls away smirking. "I don't think I was much help after all."

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #my fanfiction #Baldur's gate 3 fanfic #my writing #X reader

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milswrites · 1 month

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The Fox and the Hound

Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Eris through the years, seen through the life of the hound he gifted you when you first began courting.

Warnings: A mix of fluff and angst. Mentions of sex. Mentions of violence/threats. Mentions of injury. Death of pet but a sweet ending.

The First meeting.

There was something sweet about your first meeting. Perhaps it was the shyness that radiated from the two of you, the soft blush which dusted across your cheeks and the way Eris clenched his sweaty palms into fists in an attempt to hide his anxiety.

The two you, whist grown adults, held the charm of two children with an innocent crush. You sat across from each other, curious eyes meeting curious eyes as your fathers discussed the terms of the betrothal. Anticipation sparking in each of your chests at the possibility that this arrangement may not be as terrible as you had first expected.

It took hours.

Hour after hour of dull, monotonous discussion. Each father trying their best to squeeze every ounce of benefit that they could from this deal. It was an arduous process. One that both you and Eris shared no interest in. Deaf to the conversation happening around you, eyes never leaving the others.

Your own wordless conversation flowing naturally, an automatic understanding settling between the two. Almost as if you were both speaking your own language, one known only by the pair of you. A level of synchronicity between you as you exchanged greetings and compliments through the glistening of your eager eyes and the soft smirks which formed upon your tender lips.

Eris needn't say a word to convey the message he was trying to send. It was an invitation. A plea for the two of you to escape the draining presence of your fathers. A subtle suggestion to leave the room so he could hear the sweet tones of your voice for the first time.

Whether or not your fathers noted the rushed manner of the way you stood, excusing yourselves from the rest of the meeting, they did not let on. The two alpha males still locked in a daring battle, both seeking more and more from the other. It made it all too easy for you and Eris to slip from the room unnoticed.

Giggling alongside each other as you fled from the scene. The Autumn Prince flashed you a charming smile as he held out an arm for you to take. Enabling him to lead you alongside him until you had exited the Forest House. The male leading you towards an outbuilding, the building from which a cacophony of barks and growls sounded from.

"This isn't where you tell me that I'm not actually a bride. That this whole agreement was just so you could have some poor innocent damsel to feed to your dogs?"

Eris smiled at your joke, at the way you had failed to hide the anxiety which laced your voice. He continued to lead you towards the kennels, bringing his free hand to comfortingly rest against yours which was wrapped around his bicep.

"They're hounds," he corrected, a cocky smirk finding its home on his handsome face, "And I wouldn't dare feed them someone as pretty as you. It would be such a waste of beauty."

It was impossible to hide the deep red blush which flourished on your cheeks, eyes nervously attempting to avoid the intensity of his admiring gaze.

Trying to quell the rising heat in your face, you battled your flushed embarrassment with another joke, "Isn't it how a boy wastes his time? Playing with dogs...hounds?"

The two of you slowed your approach as you rounded on the solid oak doors. The heavy metal lock rattling with the force of the dogs pounding against the other side of the doors.

"I can assure you, my future bride, that my hounds are bred for far greater things than simply playing," he notes your fearful gulp as you flinch at a particular violent bang to the door, "And I can also tell you that my hounds are the finest in all of Prythian. You needn't worry, they wont hurt you. Not whilst I'm here."

You weren't sure whether it was the sincerity of his words or the confidence that welled in his amber eyes but you believed him. Finding yourself relaxing as he dropped your arm in order to unlock the door, satisfied that Eris would not allow any harm to befall you.

He twisted the key in the lock, dropping the heavy padlock and chains to the floor as he cast his gaze back to you, seeking some form of approval to reassure him that you were fine with this, allowing you to know that he would never force you into a situation that you didn’t want to be in.

Heart feeling full due to his compassion and thoughtfulness, you willed yourself to nod confidently. Determined that if Eris were to be your future husband and caring for his hounds were his passion, you would learn to love them in the same way the male did.

With a firm pull of the handle the door opened, hound after hound pouring out from the open doors. Each giddy pup jumping up to excitedly greet their master before a few brave ones curiously made their way over to you. Big noses snuffling at your feet, neglecting to jump at you in the way they did their master, no doubt sensing the remaining traces of fear which you had failed to flush from your system.

Opting to take the leap yourself, noting how Eris's searching eyes were observing the situation, whether to make sure his hounds didn't try anything or he was simply curious as to how you would react, you sunk to your knees on the ground in order to stroke the hounds which circled you.

A joyous laugh escaping from your lips as they saw your action as an invitation to huddle around you, overwhelming you with gentle licks and playful nibbles.

If only your father could see you now - you thought. Your pristine dress filthened by the damp ground you were knelt on, hands and arms covered in the slimy sheen of their saliva as they eagerly laid affectionate licks wherever they could.

Pleased, Eris contentedly watched the scene from where he was stood. Admiring the outpouring of love his usually reserved hounds were showing you. His heart told him that this was a sign from the mother, your already flourishing bond with his pups was surely an indication that the two of you were meant to be.

Only when their excitement of meeting a new person decreased, and the hounds had begun to wander off, inquisitive noses buried in the ground as they followed the trails of scents which interested them, did Eris then approach you.

Holding out a strong hand so he could help you up from where you were collapsed on the ground, the pups having knocked you onto your bottom from their enthusiasm.

"I'd say that went well" he mused, his amber gaze raking your body as he took in the little tears and muddied stains from your time on the ground, "You may need another dress though. Not to worry, I'll make sure you have plenty of those as my wife."

Thrilled with the child-like excitement that being surrounded by his dogs had brought you, you exclaimed, "Oh Eris they're amazing. Can we come here every day?"

"Every hour if that is what you wished," he smiled. Eris nodded his head towards the open kennels, beginning to drag you towards the building, "Come on there's something I want to show you."

The two of you made your way into the empty kennels, your curious eyes taking in your surroundings as you wonder what it is exactly that Eris wanted to show you. The answer becoming clear as he pulled you to a stop at a large doghouse, bending down to peer inside. "Here" he whispered quietly, gesturing you to drop down to the same level.

You bent down next to him, squinting through the opening of the house, trying to make out the figures which wriggled in the darkness. Before your eyes could even focus, one of said figures bounded out from where it was hidden and flopped into your lap.

You cast your gaze downwards, eyes blowing wide with awe at the sight of the small puppy which was digging into your lap in an attempt to seek some warmth.

A cry broke from your lips, a sound of appreciation, lip pouting as you brushed a gentle finger along it's tiny head. Eyes beginning to water at the sheer cuteness of the creature before you.

"You like her?" Eris asked, his own hand coming to lovingly rub at the scruffy patch of fur on the pup's head.

"Like her? I love her! Eris she's so sweet!"

"Good" he grinned, "Because she's yours. Consider it a betrothal gift."

You couldn't contain the squeal of happiness which broke from your lips, surprised eyes flashing to the male who was sat looking at you and the pup with unbridled joy.

"For me?" you asked in disbelief, of all the gifts you had ever received this by far had to be the best one.

"Well only if you want her. And she'll need training and walks. I'm not sure if you'd want her for hunting but I'm sure she'd be happy to keep you company whenever I'm gone. And she'll need a name of course."

"Darling" you answer immediately, there was no doubt in your heart that that was her name. For that was what she was, her little face, her small paws, her reddish coat. Every inch of her was darling.

"Darling is perfect" Eris agrees, his hand which had been brushing the pups head coming to hold your hand sweetly. This would be the first of what would be many affectionate touches in your relationship to come.

The night time cuddles - And a very jealous Eris.

It wasn't unusual for Eris to sneak into your bedroom to see you. Whilst you were betrothed, the rules of courting did not permit the two of you to be left unchaperoned in a room. Your father had made this point clear to you after discovering you alone with the Autumn prince in the kennels after he had gifted you Darling.

But Eris wasn't one to follow the rules.

He was constantly finding excuses as to why he urgently had to see you in your room. You left a hairpin at the breakfast table. You had forgotten to give him a review of the latest book you had finished. It slipped his mind earlier, when the two of you were sharing a supervised walk in the gardens of the Forest House, just how beautiful Eris thought you were in the new dress he had bought you.

Yet this, Eris appearing at your door, when the sun had already set and the moon was far into its nightly journey, was unusual.

Being caught alone together during the day was one thing - but at night? You shuddered at the thought of the punishment your father would deliver.

"Eris, what are you doing?" he hissed in a low whisper as the male pulled the door to after him.

"I haven't seen you today," he reasoned, hand coming to rest against your cheek as he absorbed the natural beauty of your tired features, "I'm sorry I was caught in meetings most of the day but I just had to see you before I went to bed."

That inescapable blush which appeared whenever you were around the Autumn prince burned your cheeks, a pleased smile making its way onto your lips at the thought of the male being unable to make it one day without your presence.

A stubborn nudge to his leg and an angry yelp had Eris removing his hand so he could bend down and greet a disgruntled Darling, "Yes, yes. I haven't forgotten about you sweetheart. Been behaving well for your mother?"

"Well I was sure it was the end for her today when she bit your brother when he came in for breakfast."

"Damnit" Eris smirked, his evil eyes flashing to your amused ones, "Why do I always miss the good things?"

"Hmm," you hummed in thought, "he seemed fairly convinced that you had been training her to do so."

If possible, his smirk grew even wider, "I have no idea what you mean."

You rolled your eyes at your future husband, retreating to your bed as you yawned at the lateness of the hour at which he had arrived.

"You can't be tired yet!" He argued, words filled with exasperation as Darling ran after you to chase you to the bed where you had laid down, "I just got here!"

"It's not my fault it's so late!" you fought back, gesturing to the window where the moon was high in the sky, "You could...I mean you'd have to be gone by morning of course…But if you wanted to?"

Your eyes flicker to the empty spot on the bed next you you before flashing back to Eris's. Hope flooding your pupils.

"I mean, I can't deny my future wife can I? I've heard terrifying stories about men who said no to their wives."

He obediently crawled onto the other half of your bed as he spoke. Making his way up the mattress until he was level with you.

"Perhaps..." he started, his lips dangerously close to yours, "Perhaps I can finally allow myself to feel the soft touch of your lips," his eyes flicker down to your body, "or feel the soothing heat from your bare skin. Maybe if I’m lucky I could hear your desperate cries as I make you call my name, over and over again."

Your breath caught in your throat, eager eyes boring into Eris's amber ones which were burning with lust. Releasing a shaky breath you cast them to his red lips, eyes beginning to close as you lean in.

Until the forceful shove of Darling tore the two of you apart. The small hound wriggling her way in-between the two of you, tail wagging ferociously with her desire for attention.

You laugh sweetly, hand coming to rub her ears as she happily burrowed against your body. Eris on the other hand, allowed his brows to knit together in a deep frown, his once puckered lips downturned at the sight before him.

"Sorry Eris," you giggled at his disappointment, "You are in Darling's spot and she had been in my bed many more times than you have."

His brows furrowed deeper, lips moving into a pout, "But she's had you all day! It's not fair!"

"I'm sorry dear," you shrugged, allowing your pup to dictate exactly what happens in your room, "Darling has spoken. It's ok, she gives great cuddles, I'm sure you'll sleep soundly."

Your words did nothing to improve the Prince's mood. In fact, the reminder that your pup had spent more hours nestled against you in a warming embrace than he has only made him more miserable.

"Maybe next time" you grinned, loving eyes focused on the now sleeping form of Darling.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you give better cuddles my Prince.”

The wedding.

You met in private. The two of you making your way to the old oak tree hidden in the security of the Autumn Court's forest. Lucien had joined you at Eris's request, the male trailing after you, a doting Darling close at his heels.

You had come to make your vows in your own terms. Neither you nor Eris wanting to share this moment with the thousands of uncaring guests Beron had invited to your wedding. Strangers who knew nothing about how deeply yours and Eris’s affection ran.

No, you wanted to exchange them in the privacy of each other's company, his brother joining as your witness. An eager Darling not wanting to miss out on the excitement.

So here you were, dressed in a simple white dress. Standing hand in hand with the male you had grown to love, covered by the shade of the oak tree.

"Well I can't say I've ever married someone before," Lucien stated as he scratched his red hair in thought, "I guess you just...say your vows?"

Eris rolled his eyes at his clueless brother, "You'd think when we asked you to do this you would have consulted a book brother or even a prince. Don’t you have plenty of them in the spring court?"

Knowing that the two males could spit retorts to each other for days on end, you made the easy decision of choosing to speak your vows first, "Alright. You guys can stop, I'll go first!"

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, worried that words could never do justice to the way you felt about Eris.

"Eris, I think I have loved you from the moment I met you. It wasn't hard, you make it so easy to be loved. You are not only the kindest male I have ever met, but the most thoughtful. Your compassion and the love you hold for everyone, and every thing, in your court is inspiring. And I am the luckiest woman alive to be blessed with your presence and the honour that I can soon call myself your wife. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you and I promise that I will continue to do so until we're nothing but the ash remaining from the inferno that is our love."

Tears sparkled in Eris's eyes, his grip on your hands increasing in an attempt to ground himself. Even Lucien bore a soft grin at the sight before him, at the happiness that his brother had found for himself in you.

"And I, Little fox," Eris started, his voice cracking as he spoke, "I never thought I'd be lucky enough to deserve a life like this. I've always assumed I was just like my father and was resigned to a life just as miserable as his. But being here, being with you, I know I can allow myself to feel as though I've earned this. Earnt your love. And I will spend the rest of my days proving to you just how devoted I am, just how much I was made for you as you were made for me. You are my other half. My beginning and my end. And I love you."

You choked back a gleeful sob, your own eyes glistening with tears as the two of you looked to Lucien expenctantly.

"What?...Oh! Oh right. You, uh, you many kiss the bride."

And Eris did just that. Connecting his lips with yours. His shuddering breath meeting your lips as he sealed his against yours. Moving them against each other in a passionate dance, arms flying around each other's body in search of some support. The two of you getting lost in the moment, losing yourselves in the heat of your embrace, acting as though it was just the two of you, locked in this scene for an eternity.

Until there was a rude awakening in the form of Darling leaping up at you. Her muddy paws leaving streaks of dirt down your pure white fabric of your dress. Reluctantly pulling away from Eris, you bobbed down to give her a loving stroke, pleased that she got to share in the moment with you. She was a part of your family after all.

Lucien, red-faced and blushing, broke the silence, "I guess I'm looking after her tonight then?"

"Yes!" You and Eris eagerly replied in glee.

The intruder

It was late. The world was sleeping along with the sun. Eris was away, visiting another court. Which led you to where you were now, sound asleep in your joint chambers, Darling cuddled up against your body. The two of you breathing deeply as you dreamed.

Yet not everyone was asleep. Night was the time for criminals and wrongdoers to crawl out from the depths. Sinister people who chose to act under the cover of darkness, skillfully hiding between the shadows which blanketed the court.

And tonight they had come for you. Of course choosing the one night that Eris wasn't here to protect you.

It was the rattle of your door handle which stirred Darling from her slumber. The hound curiously jumping off the bed and padding to the door, hoping that her other master had returned from his travels.

Only she didn't scent the usual crackling fire or roasting chestnuts. Instead a putrid smell of soured milk and fermented fish wafted to her nose.

Her fur stood on end. Baring her teeth as she released a low growl, the sound being enough to draw you from your dreams. Sitting up in bed and noticing the precarious way Darling was stood at your door.

"Darls?" You questioned, your worlds slurred through the thick coat of sleep which was still wrapped around you, "Come back to bed girl."

She didn't move. Muscles still tense as she stared at the door which you had only just noticed was banging softly. If Darling wasn't so on edge you would have passed it off as wind. Though the dogs anxious demeanour and the lack of a howling gale blowing against your windows had your body filling with dread.

The doors burst open, clattering against the walls from the force at which they did so. A dark figure entered, crazed eyes locked on your shaking form as they advanced.

You froze, unsure of what to do. Cursing yourself for never taking up Eris’s offer on learning how to fight, for being so sure that the need for that skill would never arise and that if it did Eris would be there to protect you.

But Eris wasn’t here. And as you stared into the cold, unforgiving eyes of your intruder fear flooded your system. Thoughts swimming around your mind at the possibility that these could be your last moments. That you’d never see your husband again. That he’d come home from his trip and find your mangled body sprawled across the bed.

Your panic increasing, you shook yourself awake, needing to be prepared to put up a fight. Jumping out of the sheets as quickly as possible so you could stand and draw your hands into shaky fists.

Ready to act.

But you needn’t do so. For as the man crossed the threshold Darling was already on him.

Her sharp teeth finding their home in the flesh of his arm. Rabid growls leaving her mouth as she tugged and thrashed at the limb trapped between her teeth. Blood poured from the man’s arm, screams of pain escaping from his throat. Legs pathetically flailing as he tried to kick her from him.

It didn’t take long at all for Darling to wrestle him to the ground. The whites of her eyes bulging in a way you had never seen, your dog never before having the need to show this amount of aggression to anyone.

She continued to ravage the man, tearing at his arm as he continued his attempts to bat her away.

Anger coursed through your body at the sight of the kicks and punches he was delivering to your dog. Your baby. And so you make to run forwards, to aid Darling with what little strength you had.

Yet once more you were saved by another.

Eris burst into the room, sword in hand. You were too stunned by his sudden appearance to try and make sense of how he was here, how he could have possibly known what was happening.

Upon his arrival, Eris was swift to finish the job. A still feral Darling coming to stand in front of you protectively. Blocking your view of the scene before you, hiding the figure of Eris stabbing his sword through the man’s gut.

When the deed was done, Eris made to come towards you, wanting nothing more than to rush to your side in order to make sure you were ok.

But Darling wouldn’t allow it.

Baring her blood-stained teeth at her master. Snarling as he tried to lay a calming hand on her. Refusing to let your husband come anywhere near you.

“It’s ok Darling” you soothed, stroking along her back, bringing her back to reality, allowing the cloud of fear to clear from her eyes as she saw who was before her. Inhaling his familiar sent. It was her family.

“It’s over Darling” you whispered into her ear as you pulled her into a hug, “my brave, brave girl. You did so well.”

The baby

“Oh Eris, let her in. She’s scratching at the door!”

It had been a long labour. The efforts of which had drained a lot of energy from you, leaving you exhausted, pale and sweaty.

But it was worth it. Every minute of pain. You would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant getting to hold the little bundle of joy which was currently held against your chest.

A little baby girl.

A beautiful daughter who already had a small little head of red hair to match her father’s. Her little fingers clinging onto your body as you cradled her.

Your husband, eyes full of love sat at the edge of the bed, admiring the beauty of the moment. His tiny, healthy baby. His magnificent, strong wife.

Yet to you, one thing was missing from the picture.

Your poor little hound had been kicked out of the room by Eris at the first signs of your labour. Your husband claiming you didn’t need any distractions, that Darling would get in the way.

But you could see it. The underlying glint of anxiety in his eyes, the already fierce desire had had to protect his newborn daughter. Worried of what could happen if he let an excitable Darling into the room, what havoc she would cause.

He didn’t mean to think that way, you knew Eris loved Darling dearly. But you also knew that this was a big change for Eris.

That he wanted to be a good father. That he wanted to be different from his own.

With the distraction your labour brought, where Darling was or what she was doing didn’t cross your mind. But now all you could hear was her incessant scratching and whining at your door and you wanted nothing more than for your pup to meet the new member of your family.

“Please Eris” you begged, a tired hand stretching across the bed in an attempt to reach your husband’s, “Let her in.”

The male sighed, rising from where he was sat. He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead before making his way to the door. Only opening it slightly before he caught Darling as she ran inside, sweeping her into his strong arms.

It was a sight to behold, your giant, wriggling hound in Eris’s sturdy grip. Darling had been much too big for you to pick up for years now, and Eris definitely looked as though he was struggling to do so now as well.

He perched back onto the end of the bed, arms tight around Darling, his stern voice berating her, “No Darling! Calm down, gently now. Gently.”

You smiled, a warming wide smile. Your heartstrings twinging at the sight. Everybody you loved was here, sat together on your bed.

Darling managed to wriggle her way out of Eris’s grip, the male cursing as she did so. Her spritely form running up the bed until she came to rest against you. Slowly laying her head against your stomach as her wide eyes took in the child against your breast.

“This is Eva, Darling” you smiled, introducing the hound to your baby.

She didn’t jump. Didn’t push her sniffling nose as close to the babe as she could. Instead Darling just laid in silent contentment, her curious eyes never leaving your daughter for a minute. She needn’t have the ability to speak for you to know what your pup was thinking, to know that in this very moment her heart had grown two times as big.

To know that she had just met her new best friend.

The terrible two’s

“Oh cauldron, Eva get back here!” You chased after your daughter, her little feet carrying her through the halls at a pace you didn’t expect a two year-old would have.

“Eva!”

Whilst running may appear to be her speciality listening was not.

As much as you loved your daughter, there were some days where you just felt utterly exhausted. Unable to keep up with her energetic soul and curious demeanour.

Spending more of your time chasing after her than anything else.

Yet thankfully, even on days like these where Eris was stuck in meeting after meeting, you always had help.

Your little Darling was never far behind Eva. The hound glued to her side wherever you went. You thought Eris was an overprotective brute, but Darling coddled her as if she was her own.

Eva never went anywhere without Darling, and Darling never went anywhere without Eva.

The hound ran down the corridor after the giggling toddler. Her head nudging Eva back up whenever she stumbled or fell, allowing the girl to grip uncomfortably tight onto her fur for support. Nose lightly pushing your daughter to the side whenever she was about to run into someone in the hallway.

Darling may not have been raised to hunt like all of Eris’s other hounds, but clearly her expertise lay in raising children. Her heightened instincts which would have allowed her to easily track prey, were what enabled her to keep up with the toddler so well.

Eris liked to joke that if Eva spent any more time around the dog she’d begin to act like one. That her increasingly mischievous personality was unbecoming of an Autumn Court Princess. You liked to joke that Eva acted just as wild as her father did.

You were panting by the time you caught up to the pair, a slight sheen of sweat across your forehead as you scooped your squealing daughter into your arms. Darling jumping up and barking along, wanting to join in on the fun.

“Come on girlies” you beamed, continuing to walk towards your destination, “let’s go find Daddy.”

Eva happily babbled away at the sound of his name, bouncing in your arms as you made your way towards Eris’s office, hoping to catch him having a break in-between meetings.

You tap at his door, pressing your ear against the wood in order to better hear. “Come in” his tired voice rings out.

Opening the door, Darling bounds into the room, leaping into your husband’s lap, a smile forcing its way onto his face at the action, hands absentmindedly scratching behind the hound’s ears.

He must have noticed the slightly disheveled state you’re in, taking in your appearance before letting out a teasing snort, “tough day Little Fox? You can go and sit in my next meeting and I’ll look after our girls if you prefer.”

“I think I’ve got the better end of the stick here my love.”

The man huffed in disappointment, though his mood lightened slightly when you passed a giggling Eva into his arms, resting her butt on Darling’s body as he bounced her up and down as he cooed.

“You can take her into the meeting with you if you wish. I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind his Granddaughter running around, maybe if she tires him out as much as she has me it’ll be a short meeting.”

“She’s really run you ragged huh?” Eris asks, he attempts to keep his words light and hearty but you noticed the flicker of concern which flashed in his eyes.

“Not just her” you reasoned, “And not just the fact that I had to chase after Darling in the woods this morning because she saw a squirrel. It’s actually…ah-”

Your sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door. Eris’s brother stepping inside his office without needing to hear any acknowledgement of his knock. His full eyes looked to you before boredly travelling to his brother, “Your late Eris. Father won’t wait much longer.”

Your husband nodded at his brother, dismissing him as he stood from his chair with a sigh, Darling jumping off of his lap. “What was it you had to say Little Fox?” He asked whilst passing Eva to you.

“Nothing, nothing don’t worry,” you brushed him off, knowing that what you had to tell your husband required more time, “I’ll tell you tonight.”

It was a torturously long wait. His meetings having run on for more than half the day. Night had fallen, and Eva had curled up to sleep alongside Darling, the two snoring softly. Yet your anxiety didn’t allow you to sleep, not until Eris came back.

Once he did arrive, he bore dark circles under his eyes and his posture was slouched, you almost thought about waiting another day before telling him the news.

But then you saw the way his eyes lit up when he cast his gaze upon his daughter and your dog. The never ending love which poured from his eyes made it too difficult to resist. You didn’t even say hello to the man before you blurted out, “I’m pregnant Eris!”

He turned to you, tiredness slipping from his eyes as a combination of shock and joy flooded into them, “yeah?”

“Yes!” You cried, unable to stop the tears which leaked from your eyes, throwing yourself into your husband’s tender embrace, “we’re having another child.”

He cheered in glee, picking up your body in glee and spinning you around, yelps leaving both your lips as you slapped his chest and cursed him, “Shhhh, you’re going to wake her! It took long enough to get her to sleep!”

The two of you looked over to where your sleeping daughter was laid, smile adorning both your faces as you saw a cheerful Darling looking right back at you. Her gentle head resting on Eva’s stomach as her tail batted happily back and forth.

Almost as if she knew the news which you had shared between you. As if she knew what was coming next. Who was coming next.

The goodbye

An unfortunate circumstance. That’s what the doctor called it. It was her time to go.

Eris had called him to your chambers immediately, the second Darling had slumped in exhaustion and refused to wake back up.

She was old. That was true. But there was something about her that had you convinced she would live forever. She had always been here, for as long as you had been in Autumn, and now you would have to try and live on without her.

You were in a state. Not even the comfort of your two beautiful children could quell the grief which had found its home inside of you.

Their presence, while appreciated, failed to fill the Darling shaped hole which had grown in your heart in her absence.

You weren’t sure how long it had been since that day on the floor of your room, cradling your best friend as she drifted into her final sleep. Each day seeming to all blur into one. Every one more dull than the last. Your source of enjoyment had gone.

Yet Eris seemed to have had enough. He was familiar with the grief that came along after the loss of a pet. He has experienced it more times than he could count, having lived for centuries and loosing just as many pups for years he had been alive.

Your husband had decided you can’t go on like this, that something had to be said. You already knew it was coming right from the moment he sat down onto the bed, comforting hand moving to hold yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he spoke slowly and concisely, as if he had rehearsed exactly what needed to be said, “I know it feels like you’ll never be happy again. But you will. The reminders you look to now which cause you pain will soon bring you joy. Will bring you thanks, will make you grateful for the time you got to have with her.”

Your tears which had been spilling for the past few days stopped at the words your husband was saying. Your ears twitching as you took in every word he was saying. He saw your peaked attention as a sign to continue.

“You’ll see her everywhere. In the forests she used to run in, the halls, your bed, Eva, Lucerys, me. You’ll see her everywhere but you’ll be able to look and smile because you were fortunate enough to have shared those memories with her. You’ll never forget her. No one’s asking you to. But it’s time to move on.”

“It’s hard” you cried, the pain in your chest felt as though it would never leave. That it had built its home there and that’s where it would stay.

“I know,” he consoled, soft hand coming to brush against your cheek, “no one said it’s not hard. But you just have to be strong. For me. For the kids. For Darling.”

He was right of course. He annoyingly always seemed to be. But you understood what he was telling you, what he was asking of you.

That you did need to move on. But moving on didn’t mean that you had to forget. And you never would.

The new beginning

“Mum! Mum come look! Come on!” Lucerys called for you. Now taller and faster than you it took him very little effort to drag you through the halls as he ran. You chased after him, wondering what could be so urgent.

He led you outside, his hand still entwined with yours as he slowed his pace after noticing how you were struggling to keep up.

It was only now he had slowed that you were able to properly look at your son, at his long red hair, at the beaming smile across his face, at the spark of joy in his eyes as he led you to the kennels.

It had taken you a long time to come here after losing Darling. But once you did you had immediately found yourself at home, surrounded by a dozen other hounds who you loved just as dearly. Your time being spent with your son who held the same affinity with animals as his father, the two of you opting to spend most of your free time tending after your husband’s hounds together.

“She’s had the pups mum!” He exclaimed as he led you inside, hand pulling yours until the two of you reached the back of the kennel where Eva was doting over the mother hound. A litter of newborn puppies suckling at her.

You didn’t fight the tear which fell from your eye, nor the twinge of pain caused from the plucking of one of your heartstrings. You allowed yourself to feel the pain as you looked to their reddish coats and their small paws. You allowed yourself to be reminded of Darling. To grieve for what you had lost all those years ago.

Lucerys helped you to sit, excitedly bringing you with him to the floor as you admired the small puppies. Your son passing you one of the small hounds, which had started to cry as it was moved from its mother. Yet it fell silent once it had reached the warmth of your hands.

That old familiar glow settled in your chest. The rekindling of a love you once felt so strongly. A blissful smile crossing your face as you took in its dear little face.

“That one’s for you mum” Eva smiled, her bright eyes locking with your watery ones, “you can name her whatever you want. She’s all yours.”

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

Notes: I know this took a very sad turn but this piece means a lot me so I really hope you guys like it!

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #eris vanserra oneshot #eris vanserra imagine #eris oneshot #eris vanserra x reader #eris imagine #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra

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repulsiveliquidation · 2 months

Text

without you || Ona Batlle

warnings : angst w/ happy ending, i promise. mentions of illness and death. based on the poem above. enjoy :)

last night you were in my dreams

looked me in the eye

god

it felt so real

her side of the bed’s empty. there’s no note left for you in her pretty writing. her car is gone from its place next to yours in the driveway. her pillow smells so much like her, it’s almost like she’s still here. the tears. you hate the tears. they fall without your permission. they wet your pillow, “I’m sorry,” you whisper, the lump in your throat made it hard to swallow.

you roll over to her side of the bed, the cold sheets solidify your loneliness. Ona’s gone. she left this morning, bags seemingly packed for such a long time that there was a little dust bunny at the back of the closet from where she hid the duffle bags.

the sun shines into your room just a little, the window left open from the night before. you had shared a glass of wine there, laughing so loud that the old man who lived across from you yelled for you two to go to bed. his wife scolded him and apologized for his behavior, blowing you a kiss and a promise of fresh pastries she would send you the next morning.

you opened the front door and there they were, neatly packed in a little basket. they were Miguelitos, Ona’s favorite. tears filled your eyes again, picking up the pretty basket with an unsteady hand. the old lady calls from across the road and you force a smile, voice breaking when you yell a thank you in a terrible attempt at Spanish. she smiles and nods anyway, watching as you tread back into the house and she sees you wiping a tear away.

they’re still warm so you leave them on the kitchen uncovered. you call Jonatan and tell him you feel like, faking a sniffle that he doesn’t buy but he gives you the day off anyway. suspiciously, Ona calls him not three minutes later with the same excuse. normally you’d call and tell him you were both under the weather but separate calls raise flags in his mind.

you crawl back into bed and begin to sob, hot tears staining your cheeks and pillow. you pull her pillow close to your chest and try to calm yourself, knowing it was no use when all you wanted was your girlfriend to hold you close and tell you everything was going to be alright.

she had done this two times before. Ona was a perfectionist, a master of her craft. every pass, tackle, dribble, and kick had to be perfect. one loose ball that was her fault meant another hour on the pitch perfecting the pass till her toes hurt from kicking the ball. the first time you had to physically throw her over your shoulder and drag her home, having a strict conversation with Alexia as she cleaned up. you made her promise to take her health seriously or Alexia would wait for the green light from you to be benched until she bucked up.

the message got to her head for about six months until a badly timed tackle earned her a second yellow of the game and the send-off. she ran off the pitch in anger, lashing out at Vicky who was comforting her as she walked off. you were on the bench with a little ankle sprain and waddled after her with Alexia, Mapi, and Pina in tow. you were ready to give her an earful when you heard muffled sobbing in the changing room. you told the others you would handle it and they backed off, faces full of concern for their friend.

“Ona?” you called, walking into the room slowly. she wiped her tears away, trying to look like she wasn’t crying. she refused to raise her head, eyes fixed on her muddy cleats.

“Amor, it’s just me,” you comfort, sitting beside her and rubbing her back. she flinches but leans into your shoulder, crying into your pressed shirt. you rock her a little and let her cry it out, gripping your coat tight as she shook in your arms.

“shh, it was just badly timed princesa. it happens.”

“I’ve let the team down, they need me…” she cried harder, snot running down her face. you reach into your pocket and pull out some tissues, reminding yourself to ask the girls which one of them stuffed it into your pocket. you wipe her face and kiss her nose.

“the girls are fine, we’re five goals up with ten minutes to go. we’ve got this game in the bag.”

“but the next games…”

“should give you a chance to rest and regroup. you’ve been working yourself to the bone again.”

“I’ve been sloppy at training, I can’t afford to make mistakes!” she yelled standing up and storming into the showers.

you lean back and decide to give her some space to breathe, hearing the loud chattering of girls high off another win and a clean sheet. you smile and congratulate them, not wanting them to worry about their teammate. Ona comes out from the showers second to last, hair wet and cheek rosy from the hot water. you sit in her cubby patiently waiting and she kisses you.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she apologizes, fiddling with her fingers. you nod and smile at her, standing up gingerly since your legs have gone numb. she changes and you notice that she’s got one of your ratty t-shirts on and your training sweats. you shake your head and walk out the door, yelling that you’d have the car warmed up for in the front in five.

she scrambles into the car and relaxes into the seat, muscles visibly melting into the warm upholstery. you drive leisurely back home, the Barcelona sunset to your left. Ona snores in the passenger seat softly, not even waking up when the scent of the Chinese takeout you pick up fills the car.

she rouses when you park in front of your house, feeling the familiar cobblestone that you have to drive over just before bringing the car into park. she smacks her lips and feels your lips press a soft kiss on her cheek.

“We’re home, my love.”

she smiles and stretches her arms, climbing out of the car sleepily. you’ve brought all the bags into the house, already cleaning out her kit bag. she rummages through the bags of food and smiles when she smells her favorite. maybe taking a break wasn’t such a bad idea.

it was as if you were here again

deep down inside me feel

Ona locks herself in her room. the sheets feel foreign, itching her skin. you always had the softest sheets, catering to her sensitive skin. the bonus was that they always smelled like you and she made sure to take deep breaths when you changed the sheets every week.

the room smelled stale too. an expected circumstance since she was rarely over here anyway. your house was closer to the pitch and she already had half the closet to herself, why make the trip every time?

there was a knock on the door about twenty minutes after she got home. she knew it was Aitana with a billion questions but all she wanted was to be alone. really she wanted to be with you but she’d fucked that up. she didn’t even know why she ran, the pressure of performing was becoming too much and she didn’t want to be a burden. she couldn’t bear to see that look of disappointment she saw glimmer over your face when she got her first red card with Barça.

the banging on her bedroom door was what woke her up hours later. Aitana mentioned breakfast in the oven and coffee in the coffee pot before the front door slammed shut. she checked her phone and there was radio silence, half hoping that you had left an angry voicemail telling her to come home. instead, she was met with her wallpaper of you holding Coco over the summer at her parent’s house.

tears pool in her eyes as she scrolls through her camera roll, swiping through all the silly photos you made her take that night. she threw her phone on the bed and screamed into the mattress, hoping deep down inside she was braver in another lifetime.

and when the light came to wake me,

and you slowly starting to fade away,

my soul was longing for you to take me,

Ona walked onto the pitch three days later, heart aching to see you. she stepped onto the pitch and spotted you talking to the girls, Ingrid slapping you on the back laughing at a joke Mapi told the group. she decides to avoid you, too cowardly to face the music. you notice her and smile but she turns away quickly, busying herself with her laces. you decide to try and corner her at the end of practice you do, needing the help of the girls to keep her from running to her car the moment Jonatan blows his whistle.

“why did you run away like that, Oni?” you ask her quietly, the rest of the team filtering out when Alexia begins to shepherd them outside.

“it’s none of your business,” she growls, tears flowing down her cheeks as she packs her kit bag. you grab her shoulder and she turns around with anger seething in her eyes. you’ve never seen hatred in her eyes before, it was unlike her; unlike your cheerful, noisy, playful but shy girlfriend.

“Ona? what’s gotten into you?” you ask, feeling tired of all the secrets she’s been harboring. for weeks you’ve been concerned about her odd behavior. she’s been making frequent visits to the medics, getting off practice earlier and staying longer sometimes, random trips to the ‘store’ for hours on end. you thought that she was planning something since your anniversary was coming up and she liked to make a big thing about it but when she left that morning it hit you that she was probably preparing to leave. this time though, it was for good.

it's her third round of dialysis this week. Ona sat in the lumpy chair of her dialysis center when her doctor walks in.

“how does it look, doctor?”

“it’s fourth-stage renal failure, Ona. you need a transplant or else you’re never playing football again. frankly, I don’t know how you’ve kept playing this long.”

“Jonatan knows.”

“I see,” he says and sits. “does your girlfriend know?”

“she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“did you decide that for her, or did she have any say?”

Ona looks up at him in shock. she tries not to jostle the machine as she sits up.

“How did you know?”

“you looked like you didn’t want to believe it when you said it.”

“she deserves better than,” she gestures to the machine, “this.”

“she deserves you,” he says and stands. as he walks away and Ona is about to cry, he turns and clears his throat. “she’s donated blood here before, she’s a perfect donor match.”

Ona tries to cry into her palm quietly, the weight of her decision bearing down on her shoulders.

but instead,

i must live without you,

for another day.

you wake up feeling groggy, and the sound of steady heartbeats fills the room. there’s another heartbeat that deep down sounds familiar and it puts a smile on your face.

a chilling call from Jonatan put you in this hospital bed. he explained that Ona needed a transplant and that you were a perfect match. you cried in his office, body shaking with anger at yourself more than at Ona. you knew that it ran in her family and that her age was when the onset was. the extra visits to the doctor and ‘shop’ trips all made sense now. you punched a wall on your way out dramatically, crying like a baby all the way home. you barged into her house, Aitana following behind you like a puppy.

“so you were just going to run and wait for you to die?” you yelled at her, body shaking in fury. she just stared at her fingers, fiddling with the end of the throw blanket in her lap.

“answer me!”

“you don’t deserve this!” she screamed back, tears running down her face. “you don’t deserve someone who is dying to be your girlfriend!”

tears flood down your cheeks and you hear her door click closed, Aitana in front of it.

“you had no right to decide that for me, Oni!”

“I couldn’t put you through this. if I don’t get a kidney soon, first it’ll be football then it’ll be me!”

“I know I’m a match.”

her head whips up to look at you so fast, you’re sure she’s gone and given herself another ailment.

“no.”

“I’m a perfect match, Onita.”

“I could never ask you to do that!”

“you’re not asking if I’ve already asked them to make sure it goes to you.”

“Bebé, I–”

“no, you would do the same for me. I love you too much to see you like this,” you kneel in front of her as she sits on the bed, feeling overwhelmed. “Please, Oni,” you beg with your head in her lap, “Please let me help you.”

Ona wakes up and looks over at you, sighing in relief that the surgery was a success. the nurses have pushed your beds close enough together that you stretch your arm out and she does the same, fingers laced together with an unspoken promise to face every challenge that comes your way the only way you knew was right; together.

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #fc barca femeni #fcb femeni #fc barcelona femeni #espwnt #sefutbol fem #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso angst #woso #woso community #womens football

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

A Second Chance

pairing: Aemond x Reader request: Hello! Sorry to bother you but i have a little idea that came from all the reblogs you recently made! basically Aemond is away so Alicent requests that reader! Comes back after a long time to the red keep because she wants to see her boy happy 🥺 of course its just a simple start but would love to see nice Alicent helping his baby ~ anonymous

warnings: none! this has the tiniest amount of angst but mostly fluff word count: 1.4k note: loved this, loved writing emotional Aemond & your messages are NEVER ever a bother! 💚 masterlist

“I was ever so sorry to hear of the death of your lord husband, Lady (Y/N),” Alicent said, giving you a look full of a mother’s compassion, “and so unfortunate he should leave you so quickly after you wed.”

You take a sip from your cup. The Queen had invited you to the capital and you had been delighted to return. Ever since you arrived your eyes had been searching for Aemond.

You had both left on such harsh terms those several years ago when your betrothal had been announced. You had been missing him for years, feeling as though a very piece of your own heart had been missing.

“Thank you, your grace,” you tell her, speaking softly.

Your lord husband had been a kind man. Married to you as an alliance for your families and that was all. He was nearly twice your age, but he had been sweet to you.

“My son has missed your presence,” Alicent tells you.

“I was hoping to see the prince,” you said, heart rate increasing.

Alicent nods, looking off to the side. Your smile falters as the realization washes over you at her hesitant glance.

“Aemond does not know I am here,” you tell her. It is a statement, not a question.

Alicent struggles to keep the smile on her face. She brought her hand to yours, squeezing it gently.

“I thought perhaps we shall surprise him,” she says softly.

“I do not think he wishes to see me,” you tell her, and feel a slash of pain in your heart. The wound is still fresh, though the years had passed.

“Tell them not to let me go,” you had begged him, chasing him down an empty corridor.

The one-eyed prince had stopped his long strides turning to face you.

“Tell them you wish to marry me,” you had begged.

Aemond had been silent for many moments.

“I cannot tell them what is not true.”

You remembered it as though it had happened yesterday. The cold look in his eye, so unlike that of which he usually awarded you. None of the kindness you had grown to love.

“He does,” Alicent insists, “he has been terribly lonely these past years. Growing more resentful each day. I worry about him.”

In truth, you had never stopped thinking of Aemond. He plagued your thoughts at every moment.

You blink away the tears that gather in your eyes.

“He shall be returning soon,” Alicent tells you, “join us for supper tonight, please.”

Her thumb continues to stroke the back of your hand, a hopeful look is in her eyes. You nod in agreement.

Aemond remembered watching you go, the way your eyes had filled with tears. The look of betrayal on your face. That most of all. That has haunted most of his days since your departure.

In truth, he had wished to marry you. But duty is often in conflict with matters of the heart. And duty demanded he remained unwed.

And though it pained him to do so, he had to let you go.

Aemond walks quickly to his chambers, eager to bathe and dress before joining his mother for dinner. The days have been long, and there is no feeling like that of being home.

He hisses as he lowers himself into the tub, the hot water nipping at his pale skin. Aemond wishes to be done quickly, he doesn’t like being alone with his thoughts. He finds himself constantly training, reading, researching, and doing anything to distract himself from the constant thoughts that plague him.

You.

It has been years since he last saw you since you last spoke. He supposed you must have several children by now. This did not make him sad, he hoped you had children to brighten your life.

Aemond readied himself before making his way to his mother’s chambers. It was to be a small affair for supper that evening, as Aegon was entertaining some guests from the west.

“Aemond,” Alicent said, as he arrived. She embraced her son whom she had not seen in several months.

“It is good to see you, mother,” he said.

“I have missed you,” she told him, “I have invited a guest for dinner..”

“A guest?” Aemond questions, as the door opens.

He turns and his breath catches in his throat as he sees you in the doorway. Your eyes are wide as you take him in. Aemond looks good, taller perhaps if that is possible. Leaner, the entirety of him is ropey muscles. He is handsome as ever, eyepatch securely covering his ruined eye. Aemond’s lips part.

“Hello Aemond,” you say softly smiling.

“Lady (Y/N) has agreed to join us for supper, isn’t that lovely?” Alicent says, placing a hand on her son’s arm.

Aemond jerks his head in a nod causing Alicent to smile.

“I shall be but a moment,” she says, starting toward the door. She stops to caress your cheek, before leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

You inhale a shaky breath.

“Are you well?” you ask as Aemond continues to stare, a rather innocent expression on his normally harsh face.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice hoarse. You wet your lips wringing your hands together.

“Your mother invited me to the capital,” you tell him, “I did not know you had no part in the invitation.”

“My mother?” Aemond said, shaking his head. Of course, his mother. The hopeless romantic who always wanted more for her children than the hand she had been dealt. You nod.

“She wished to offer her condolences,” you continue, walking towards the fireplace. You reach for a grape that lays on a golden tray. Aemond’s brow furrows.

“Condolences?” he asks, watching you pop the grape into your mouth. You chuckle.

“Shall you speak in questions all evening, my prince?” you tease before answering his question.

“My late husband has passed,” you inform him. A moment of pause lingers between you.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Aemond says, “I do hope your children are weathering alright?”

You meet his eye, a blush beginning to creep onto your cheeks. Aemond wishes he could place his hands upon your cheeks, to feel the burning that resides underneath your smooth flesh.

“We were not blessed with children,” you tell him, “my lord husband was not well, for the majority of our marriage.”

“Did he treat you well?” Aemond asks, voice turning to a tone of concern.

“Oh yes,” you assure him, “yes, he was very kind to me. But-”

You find yourself struggling to speak, struggling to find the right words.

“He did not love me,” you decide, “he did not desire me. It was a quiet marriage.”

Aemond is watching you carefully. How foolish he had been to let you slip from his fingers. The gods are good, they must be repaying him for his suffering in some way by returning you to him. By offering him a second chance.

“I would,” Aemond says softly.

He walks over to you until he stands directly before you.

“I would love you, I would desire you,” he tells you, “I do, I always have.”

Your eyes fill with tears and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to say that-”

“I do, and I was a fool,” he continues, taking your hands in his, “I was a fool to let you leave when I loved you. I have loved you and continue to love you.”

The tears are freely flowing down your cheeks, dripping past your chin and onto the stone floor.

“There has not been a day that goes by where I do not think of you,” he continues, “there is not a corner of this world I could fly to where I did not see your face. In every passerby, in the light of the moon. You are everywhere. You are all-consuming.”

“Aemond,” you beg, not sure exactly if you wish him to stop or keep speaking.

“I love you,” he insists, fingers digging into your waist.

You bring your hands to his chest, pulling him towards you and connecting your mouths. The kiss is desperate and passionate, making up for the lost time. Aemond can feel the coolness from your tears caressing his face, and you start to laugh against his mouth.

He kisses you again and again, swallowing the happy laughter that pours from your sweet lips.

Queen Alicent stands outside the room, back pressed against the wood of the door, listening to your whispers, and laughter. She places a hand against her heart and closes her eyes, happy that her son has found the love he so longed for.

note: hope you enjoyed I love me a good love confession, especially from our fave one-eyed prince 🥹

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chasingwhitebunnies · 1 year

Text

I feel a bit silly writing this because I’m sure other people must have but I’ve not seen anything about it

(SPOILERS - I’ll also tag)

I really love how we see Coriolanus’s character descent into who he becomes through each of his kills

His first kill is Bobbin. It was self-defence, kill-or-be-killed. If he hadn’t done it, he probably would have been killed himself, but this sticks with him. Coriolanus is horrified when he realises he took someone’s life. He thinks about it for a long time.

His next kill is Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter. It’s not self-defence, but he sees it that way. In a way, he’s got a point. She would have reported him, and he would have been hanged. So would Lucy Gray, so he shot her. This time, however, he had a choice. Maybe not much choice, but it was there. He chose to shoot her, but it doesn’t affect him anywhere near as much as Bobbin’s death

The third is the hardest. He doesn’t pull the trigger or tie the noose, but he might as well have. He betrays Sejanus. Sejanus who loves him like a brother. Sejanus who he has known since they were children. He made the decision in a moment and he questions himself afterwards, but he still made that choice. He reasons to himself internally that it was necessary and Sejanus was bound to get himself in trouble, anyway, right? Right? So it’s okay. But it’s not okay. The blood is on his hands and he keeps thinking of the moments they spent together before the betrayal. He benefits from his death and is rewarded for his loyalty. How ironic

Next is Lucy Gray. Possibly. For argument’s sake, let’s say he did kill her. He calls out for her, his gun slung over his shoulder. He realises how she might be scared, the gun sending the wrong message… but he doesn’t put it back. He brings it with him, not to use it, he tells himself. He would never use it, definitely not. He just… wants to talk some sense into her. As soon as the snake bites him, he abandons all pretence. Even though he admitted moments ago he understood why she would be scared, now she’s the enemy. Now she has to pay. How dare she. Not even an hour ago, he had plans to run away with her. He claimed he loved her. They were going to be together. Now, he’s chasing her through the trees with a gun in his hands and he’s screaming for her to show herself. He shoots a lot. When he thinks he finally got her, he’s pleased. It was her own fault, he tells himself, for the snake trick. Even afterwards, when he finds out that the snake wasn’t venomous - which Lucy Gray definitely would have known and therefore was only intended to slow him down - he doesn’t have a single moment of regret. The only thing he regrets is falling for her in the first place and he swears he’ll never do it again. His heart is stone. Frozen like snow.

Finally, his last kill (before the ones that take place once this book ends) is Dean Highbottom. This is the first kill that is not made in a split-second. This is premeditated. He carefully adds just enough rat poison to the morphling, sure to wear gloves, and sets his plan in motion. He has every opportunity to change his mind, to not resort to violent means. Not only does he not regret it, he feels proud. Excited, even. He hopes Dean Highbottom will know it was him that killed him

By the epilogue, Snow has gotten over (or buried deep enough) what guilt he had over Sejanus enough to use the Plinths’ grief to his advantage without any conflicting feelings. He’s convinced himself Lucy Gray was the villain who played him, when she was just a sixteen-year-old girl who was forced into a terrible situation. As we know, he goes on to directly and indirectly kill thousands between TBOSAS and THG, too many. I doubt he remembers most of them, just nameless, faceless children. He doesn’t care anymore, not like he did the first time

The whole world is his Arena. Snow lands on top until it melts

#SPOILERS THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES #SPOILERS TBOSAS #THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES SPOILERS #tbosas spoilers #(melted by fire in case my on the nose metaphor was too subtle)#tbosas #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #Dean Highbottom #casca highbottom #Mayfair lipp #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #bobbin TBOSAS #500

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imtryingbuck · 5 months

Text

No Better Than My Husband

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Readers husband is having affairs, so reader does the same

Word count: 1,513

Warnings: Angst and Fluff, swearing? Cheating, Sharon being a bitch. Terrible writing as always.

Masterlist

Y/n’s husband really thought he was being smart about his indiscretions, not that his affairs shocked her, but he truly believed she was some dumb naive housewife due to believing this, he started getting sloppy. At first it pained knowing her husband was entertaining another woman whilst she was at home alone, being nothing but faithful and devoted to him. When his first mistress found out that she wasn’t the only side piece he had she had messaged Y/n all the pictures, videos and messages between the pair, it was meant to hurt her but she already knew her husband was seeing other women behind her back.

The thought had crossed her mind at first to confront him but she knew better, she knew no matter how many tears she showed him he wasn’t going to change. She watched her mum do the exact same thing with Y/n’s dad, he promised her he’d stop and it wasn’t until his untimely death that she had found out that not only was he still seeing the other woman but was engaged to her and the cherry on top was that he had borne a 8 year old son.

So no she wasn’t going to confront him, leaving him to truly believe that his beautiful naive wife didn’t know that when he said he was having a business meeting it was actually him fucking another woman.

However what he didn’t know was that whilst he was having these “business meetings” she was in the arms of another man.

The first time she slept with Bucky she ran to the bathroom to puke up, she felt disgusted, she felt like she was the worst of the worst. The second time she slept with Bucky the guilt was still there but not as strong as before. Now after every time of meeting up with him she didn’t care, she loved the attention he showered her with but most of all she craved just being touched and not necessarily in a sexual manner.

Bucky thought she was truly the most beautiful woman to ever exist, he found out she was married after he gained the confidence to talk to her. The shock and anger he felt was showed on his face when she spoke about her husband’s affairs. Trying to get his head around the idea of how man could have someone like Y/n as a wife just to cheat on her truly baffled him.

Now Bucky lays there trying to catch his breath after spending nearly two hours of happily pleasuring over and over again the goddess that he has the upmost respect for. He knew he was in deep with her, he knew that it wasn’t just sex for him and he hoped that it was the same for her.

Keeping a soft gaze at her ever so slightly trembling form he broke the silence “So I was thinking, don’t give me that look missy, I was thinking about introducing you to my friends? They’ve heard everything about you and they want to meet you but only if your comfortable with that”

“I don’t know Buck, you told me they know I’m married and they probably think the worst of me”

“No baby they don’t, I told them about him and how he’s cheating on you none of them judge you for doing the same”

Shakily sighing “okay but only if your really sure about this”

“Never been more sure beautiful”

They share a kiss which quickly grew more intense. Bucky was more than happy to continue showing her affection and love.

The day had arrived to meet her lovers friends and to say she was nervous was an understatement the thought of them judging her scared her, she knew she wasn’t a bad person she did anything for anyone. Never in a million years did she think that the man who took a vow to love and be faithful to her would break said vow, but here she was five years into marriage her husband betraying her with four women - that she knows of - she was tired of being mocked and treated like a fool so she decided to return the favour. However now she was in too deep, she had fallen in love with Bucky. So she truly hoped his friends didn’t judge her too much.

Bucky had agreed to meet her outside the cafe that was close by the tower, they shared a kiss and made their way to where his friends were. The whole time Bucky was reassuring Y/n that it was going to be okay.

Standing in front of the Avengers was intimidating but when they greeted her happily the nerves that was settled throughout her body melted away. Conversations flowed effortlessly laughs were shared, that was until Sharon spoke up from where she was sat. “So Y/n Bucky says you’re married? At first I was shocked that he could sleep with a married woman but now meeting you I understand”

Y/n felt uncomfortable under Sharons intense gaze, she definitely didn’t like her tone. After shifting to try and get comfortable she finally found her voice “My husband has been cheating on me for a long time, I never intended to do the same but I met Bucky one night and one thing led to another and well now I’m here” ending her sentence with a shy chuckle. Bucky took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t you feel slightly ashamed of yourself? Because you should”

Not knowing how to reply she just looked down at her clasped hands, of course she felt ashamed of herself, of course she hates herself for being no better than her husband. It was one moment of weakness that if she had to do it all over again, she would. She would do it all over again without a second thought and that, that is what she hated about herself.

The room had fallen into an uncomfortable silence, everyone was pretty annoyed with Sharon for spoiling such a happy time. The looks that were shot at Sharon made Y/n feel like she had done something wrong. She never wanted to cause any problems with the group of friends. A few beats passed when Y/n glanced at her watch then bent down to get her bag and coat that was at her feet, her movements caused Bucky to jump up. “You don’t have to go”

“I do, I need to get home” turning to the group “it was an absolute pleasure meeting you all, thank you for a great time, bye” Not listening to the protest coming from Bucky and his friends, she walked out the room to the elevators. Bucky had ran inside just before the doors had closed.

“Baby ignore Sharon, she’s just being rude for no reason. I’m sorry”

“It’s fine Buck. Honestly. I need to let you know now that I’ve finally filed for divorce. I’ve already packed my stuff and moved into an apartment. He’s on a “Business” trip ah. I really feel hard for you Buck, I’m sorry” The shiny doors came open and she all but ran out before Bucky could reply.

Four months had pasted since Y/ns confession in the confined space of the elevator, four months without speak or seeing the super soldier. The messages and phone calls that came from Bucky and her now ex-husband had gone off none stop. The messages from her ex started off with him apologising and begging her to come back, he’ll change. Which turned to him taunting her, blaming her for his actions. When it came to their divorce to be finalised he had showed up with mistress number 4 hanging off his arm, he thought this move would hurt her but all it did was make the judge give her way more money than she originally asked for.

Bucky’s messages consisted of apologies too, along with pleading her to meet him. But was also filled with him telling her he loved her.

One Sunday the rain was pouring down heavily in the late afternoon when a knock on the door startled Y/n, trying to calm her racing heart she made her way to the sound. Opening her door her heart stopped.

“W-what are you doing here Buck? How did you find me?”

“Nat”

“Okay? Still didn’t answer the first question”

Instead of answering her Bucky walked straight up to her, touching her face with freezing and delicate hands he searched her eyes for any reason to pull away. Finding none he moved closer and closer till his cold plumb lips touched hers. Kissing one another always took their breaths away, no matter how many times they’ve done it. Reluctantly pulling away he rested his forehead on hers and smiled.

“Be mine and I’ll be yours” Bucky’s heart was hammering rather hard inside of his chest awaiting her response, and instead of verbally responding she pulled him into the apartment letting him kick the door behind them.

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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javarium · 6 months

Text

from mountains to dust

— geto x reader; gojo x reader; geto x gojo

it’s been nothing but bad lapses in judgement over the last few months, over and over again. the beginning restarts over and over again; there’s no end to the storyline in sight. trying to change it seems futile, but you hope there’s purpose in every choice you make… no matter how terrible they may be.

w — canon divergence, partial canon-compliance, takes place post-Star Plasma Arc, angst, poly relationship, character death, cussing, minimal dialogue heehee

Before you stands the man you fell in love with. He looks better, if only slightly, since you last saw him. He’s regained some of his weight, the color in his cheeks, and lost the bags of exhaustion under his beautiful eyes.

Behind him stands two girls, one with light brown hair and the other with black, both staring at you wide-eyed with wonder and curiosity.

“So that means this was a set-up?”

Your voice is quiet, almost too quiet that he has to strain to hear. But he does, and he nods to confirm your thoughts. “It was. I’m not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not.”

The text message you’d gotten two days ago had led up to this moment: to you seeing him again, with two tiny girls by his side. Why on Earth he thought this was a good idea was beyond your reasoning.

But maybe it was because of those girls behind him. Maybe he was ready to repent for what he’d done. Maybe he was ready to come back, come home to you and Satoru and just live and breathe again. Maybe this was fate rewriting itself, fixing the once-thought irreparable damage that had been done not even a year ago.

You gulp down spit in uncertainty. “Why… Geto?”

He visibly winces at the use of his last name. But he understands. The hesitation in addressing him by his last name tells him of how unsure you are of your relationship. He gets it. After what he’s done, after everything he’s put you through, he knows he’s on shaky ground. He shouldn’t expect you to call him by his first name anymore. He’s lost that privilege, lost the luxury of his name rolling off the lips he loved to kiss so much.

“Because…”

Because he still loves you. He wants you with him, by his side. If there’s one thing he wants to be selfish about, it’s wanting you with him. It’s him wanting to wrap you in his arms every night and hold you; him wanting to watch you get to know Nanako and Mimiko and do girly things with them. To be a mother to them. He knows you’d be a good mom. He can see it now in the way you look at the twins clutching the back of his robe.

He wants Satoru, too, but he knows that he’s too far from his reach.

”Because I know you’d understand.”

Because between you and Satoru, only you would know. Only you would know what it would be like for everything to be too much. To do something more direct about saving jujutsu sorcerers from pain, from death. From dealing with Curses that plagued the planet thanks to those inferior monkeys. Only you would understand the line, understand that he wasn’t trying to be a selfish bastard by killing off all the monkeys of the planet to save his own kind.

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”

You know what he’s asking. He wants you to understand. And you do. But at the same time, you understand Satoru, too. Both of them were trying to change the world for the better, to fix the bullshit of the world of jujutsu for the sake of not just the world, but for sorcerers as well. Their ways were just so… different. Drastically so. You wanted them both to win, to succeed to change the world of sorcerers for the better, because it was nothing but hell. You just never expected to be forced to choose, to take sides with the two men your heart had fallen head over heels for.

”I do.”

You shake your head. “You don’t.” The burn of tears sting at your eyes. “What’s their names?”

Suguru places his left hand behind the black-haired girl’s head. “This is Mimiko.” And then he does the same with the girl with light brown hair. “And this is Nanako.”

You smile at them, eyes gazing over their little bodies that pump cursed energy enough to be sorcerers.

You hate it.

“Lovely names…” you whisper.

You dip your head and close your eyes. You’re shaking, you note. Tears line your eyes, but you force them back. And you forever hate yourself for the decision you make.

Gojo Satoru knows he isn’t alone, despite feeling like it with every time he draws breath in and out of his lungs. He knows that you’re still there, waiting for him to come around and meet you halfway.

But he takes too long. He’ll always be the strongest, but he’ll always be too fucking late.

The words coming from his teacher’s lips almost fall on deaf ears. What he hears is just as bad, if not worse, than when he was told Suguru has massacred a village and was now set for execution.

“[Name] has gone missing. There’s a likelihood she’s sided with Suguru,” the older man says. “She left a note I found, saying she was going to go bring him in, come morning she’d be back with him.”

“But she hasn’t.” Gojo doesn’t like the quiver in his voice.

“She’s either sided with Suguru,” Yaga says, “or he’s killed her. She’s vanished. Not even her residuals are left.”

And when Gojo goes to investigate to try and prove him wrong, he finds out his teacher is right. You’ve masked yourself perfectly, so much so that not even his mostly-trained Six Eyes can pick up on any wisp of your cursed energy.

You were always good at stealth. You weren’t strong like him or Suguru, but you were adept at stealth techniques. Reconnaissance, stealth — you were essentially a ninja. Something he and Suguru used to joke about all the time.

Gojo Satoru sits alone in his dorm room once he’s deemed what his teacher has said to be truth. He can’t find any of your residuals, not a trace of it left. Everything you own and have is left behind, like you had truly gone out with the intent of coming back. With Suguru, like you said. You were supposed to come back with Suguru.

He leans forward to think, elbows resting on his knees. His blackout glasses slip down his nose, bit by bit. He grabs them off his nose and slings them toward the wall and doesn’t care when he hears an audible crack! a split second later. He doesn’t care. He has enough money to buy as many glasses as he wants.

Too bad that money can’t buy back the two people he cares for the most in this shitty world.

“Mama!”

“Get up!”

Nanako and Mimiko jump on the bed, too eager for whatever time it was. You grumble and bury your head deeper into the pillow, hoping they’d understand that you were far too tired and sleepy to do whatever they had in store for you.

“Papa, Mama won’t get up!”

“She won’t, will she?”

You hate Suguru. You really don’t want to get up. Not after the restless night you’ve had. But once he makes his appearance, it was either get up or suffer the consequences.

Groaning, you lift yourself from the bed a few inches, using your elbows to lift your head and prop up on. And slowly but surely, you manage to blink your tired eyes open. The desire of sleep fades faster than you anticipate and make you wonder if you need coffee today. Strange.

“Breakfast is ready,” Suguru says. He bends down as you sit up properly, pressing a kiss to your temple sweetly. “If you decide to get up, that is,” he teases further. It makes you grumble, but as you watch Nanako and Mimiko trail after him at his request, you can’t help but feel your heart fill with warmth, and the need to oblige Suguru’s desire to see you down in the kitchen with your found family.

You tie your robe around you, keeping some semblance of morning comfort as you walk to the kitchen.

Suguru, only for you and your girls, would ever be in the kitchen making you three pancakes and sausages. He would for Satoru too, if he were here. No doubt the white-haired male would be the one making the biggest fuss of the four of you about the pancake delivery being too slow. To which Suguru would most definitely chuckle at and tell Satoru he’d make more if he hushed. And Satoru would happily oblige.

It’s been almost five years since your departure from the school — yours and Suguru’s — with a broken heart. But at the same time, you know you would’ve never been happy, no matter what decision you made. It would’ve ripped you to shreds regardless. Because you had to choose between them, between Satoru and Suguru, the two men on you loved most on this godforsaken planet.

When you chose Suguru, you hoped that there would be enough resolve in you to bring him back home, even if it took you years to do it. Even to this day, you still hope that there’s something you can do, or take advantage of something happening to get him to go back and be put on probation, rather than the execution he’s scheduled for if any sorcerer gets their filthy hands on him.

You’re sure Satoru wouldn’t let anything happen to Suguru anyway. You’ve heard of the immense power he wields now, both with his refined jujutsu as well as politically, since on his twentieth birthday, he officially became the head of the Gojo Clan.

“Can we go shopping today?” Nanako asks. She looks expectantly at Suguru, who fakes being deep in thought. It makes you lift a hand to hide your smile.

Suguru looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He knows you don’t like getting out. It’s both because you’re in introvert and hate the crowds of malls and streets, and also from the fact you don’t want to get caught by jujutsu sorcerers. Yes, you could handle them, but you didn’t want to deal with such hassle; defeating them would be easy. Unless it was Satoru, of course.

“I dunno,” he hums, “but I think you’d better ask Mom, don’t you think?”

The two ten-year-old twins get whiplash when they turn to face you with sparkles in their eyes. You almost look away, reminded of a young girl with black hair that had the same look of excitement in her eyes.

You don’t deny the twins their excitement or Suguru his satisfaction.

So you take the twins to the mall. It isn’t the one closest to your home, Nanako and Mimiko having been there a few times already. You take them to a new mall, one that’s just outside proximity of the normal one.

That was your first mistake.

You have four bags next to your seat as you devour the soba in front of you. The twins are happily eating their favorite ramen, in a contest to see who can finish the too-big bowl first. You’re texting Suguru, who’s happy to hear that the girls are having a good time. It’s better than what he’s dealing with: an unruly set of followers of the cult he leads, questioning him and his methods of dealing with the riddance of “monkeys” on such a large scale.

You understood them, you really did. But there was no doubt that your lover would kill them before the sun sets.

As you’re putting your phone away, that’s when you sense it: the familiar, boundless cursed energy of the Limitless, belonging to the person whom you’d left behind to fend for himself. He may have been the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, but that didn’t mean he was the strongest mentally, even if he tried to or appeared to be.

You direct your attention back to the girls and ask them, “You guys still want to go to the candy store?”

“Yeah!”

You fish for the card you’ve been using and give it to them. “I think you two are big enough to go by yourselves. Just don’t by too much, okay?”

Nanako and Mimiko buzz with excitement, eyes twinkling with absolute glee. They take the card and skip away. You weren’t worried about their safety. You could easily track their cursed energy if you need to. So you stand, ready to turn and gather your jacket-

“[Name]?”

The clear brokenness in his tone made you stop, facing away from the man that the voice belonged to. You’re frozen solid; as much as you want to turn around and face him, your feet seem to be stuck, rooted to the ground.

But Satoru is strong enough to move for you, and your eyes suddenly see his black shoes mere inches from your own.

“Look at me.”

It’s not commanding. Not even slightly. He’d never use that tone with you. With you, he was always soft, always treating you like the porcelain you’d always wanted to be since you were a little girl.

But you fear porcelain has turned to titanium, that Satoru would no longer want a girl that had made herself into steel.

Your eyes slowly lift to meet his, and you feel the burn of tears edge at your eyelids.

God, he’s so handsome, so ethereal. If Suguru saw him now, you’re sure he’d feel the same as you: all you want to do is press your lips to his in the sweetest, most apologetic kiss you could muster. You’d wrap your arms around him and never let him go again. You’d never walk away from a man that loved you and Suguru so dearly ever again.

But the guilt gnawed away at you. You don’t deserve it anymore. This is the path you chose, your regret tells you. And there’s nothing you can do to change it.

Satoru knows you too well, even after a few good years apart. He loved you so much he could read you like an open book written in big letters in bold print. He doesn’t need the Six Eyes to feel the remorse pouring from your soul.

“God…” he breaths out.

Tears wet your lashes as you blink. His love thrums from his cursed energy and you feel even worse. You almost speak, but he does first.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You cry out his name, and are unable to help falling into the sanctuary of his arms you’ve longed to feel again.

But this is the path you’ve chosen.

You don’t tell Suguru when you get home. Not immediately. He knows, because he can see his other beloved’s residuals on you. He doesn’t pry, not then. He’ll eventually come to know what transpired, but for now he’s okay with making sure you’re comforted, that you know he loves you, too.

It’s 2017 when Suguru zones in on the school he once went to. He becomes enamored with Okkotsu Yuuta, a new Special Grade sorcerer that you can tell is a distant relative of Satoru’s. They have a similar wavelength, you note, that only appears in a familial way.

He wants to bring him over to his side, if only to be able to take and tame the Queen of Curses, Rika Orimoto from him to bring Suguru’s goal to life. She’s, from what you understand, almost unstoppable. Even for Satoru. You’re sure the white-haired man could take her on if need be. You still have that much faith in his abilities.

Secretly, you hope Suguru fails.

It’s 2017 when you become extra nauseous in the late morning and immediately puke into the sink. It’s not the smell of anything that does it; just a random, overwhelming nausea that makes you almost crumble to your knees by the sink.

You’ve had your suspicions for a week now. But when you take a look in the mirror, you activate your cursed energy, and in that moment, all of your prior suspicions are confirmed. You begin to cry in joy at the thought of having your own baby, your own flesh and blood with one of the men you love so dearly.

One of them.

You wish Satoru was here to enjoy your pregnancy too.

You grow and grow over the months and Nanako and Mimiko are absolutely overjoyed to have another sibling join. They hope it’s a girl too, because the only boy they can stand is the man that’s their father.

Come September 21st, you give birth to a carbon copy of yourself. Suguru couldn’t be any happier. If he was, he might explode from the joy pumping through his veins. The absolute happiness in his eyes is worth every second of agony you went through during labor. There’s nothing of the man who runs such a dark organization to rid the world of non-sorcerers.

There is only Geto Suguru, the man you fell in love with at the naive age of 16, who stares down at his newborn daughter and swears with every ounce of his being that he is going to give her world and place it at her feet.

It’s 2017, Christmas Eve, when your love launches an attack on jujutsu high, determined to win and come back with Rika Orimoto at his beck and call. There’s so much loss and sufferance from both sides that you can barely stomach it.

You don’t stay on the frontlines too long, opting to use your powers to teleport to the school. You know Satoru knows you’re involved, you just wonder if he’s going to tell anyone.

At the school, you make one last appeal to your love before he takes on the new Special Grade teenager. You’re terrified. You see how strong the boy’s Curse is, and you get to dissuade him from the fight. You’re terrified even further, because you know that Suguru is going to lose.

Indeed, he does lose. Not just the fight, but so much more.

It’s 2017 when Geto Suguru admits defeat and succumbs to the consequences of his actions ten years ago and henceforth, all while holding the dead body of the mother of his child, the woman he and Satoru loved the most, with tears streaming down his face and agony rending his soul asunder.

It’s 2017 when Satoru meets the little baby girl you gave birth to, and just the same as her biological father, he also swears to her that he’ll put the world at her feet if she asks, protect her and her dad, the man he loves, just like her mom would’ve wanted him to.

She coos in response, and he swears on his own life that nothing will ever happen to her.

It’s Halloween of 2018, and before them stands the woman they both fell in love with.

But the stitches across your head told them that you were not you.

Not anymore.

That someone, something, was inside of you, possessing your body. Desecrating your soul, your existence, their memories of you, and the wonderful life you’d lived by their sides for as long as you had. Desecrating the beauty of your being and the possibilities of what could have been had the both of them not been so damn fucking selfish.

In Shibuya, on Halloween, for nineteen days, Gojo Satoru is sealed within the prison realm by a madman inhabiting your body.

On that day, both he and Suguru swear by everything in their power that they will do what they must to get rid of the evil inhabiting your body. To end whatever sick games the person inside your corpse has planned.

For themselves, for your daughter, and for you, they will lay your body to rest and let your soul be in peace.

After everything you’ve done, you deserve that much.

a/n: I’ll do an rb w/ tags later omg, the taglist is so long

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo x reader x geto #gojo x geto #suguru geto x you #suguru x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk imagines

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batfambyval · 7 months

Text

okay. So.

Serious Red Robin theory coming.

Tim wasn’t put in the Lazarus Pit. But. That doesn’t mean they didn’t use it on him. The pit’s healing properties have been shown to work in small portions. Like, the healing is proportional to the amount of lw used.

The cave with the pit isn’t exactly a sterile environment. So either the pit was needed or it was an attempt to put Tim off balance, a psychological weapon. Though the White Ghost’s reaction to the assumption seems to dispute that. If the pit’s healing is proportional to the amount used it makes sense that the psychological effects are to, along with the duration of those side effects.

Ra’s had serious reasons to use the pit on Tim, between the additional room for emotional manipulation and Tim’s life threatening injury which wasn’t immediately treated and was in fact exacerbated like, a lot… yeah. Tim lost a lot of blood. He lost was stabbed in the organ that filters blood: meaning all your blood passes through your spleen. He was bleeding out, he should have died, he dragged himself and another person to a car, drove said car back to the city, and got them both up to the penthouse. Recovering from that would take a long time, he shouldn’t have survived at all. But he healed quickly and well, it isn’t an issue, it happened and it was over. I know we as a fandom like to have fun with Tim’s missing spleen and what that means but… canon didn’t and looking back I feel like there was a lot pointing at the pit being used in a much more insidious was, not just in the logistics of Tim’s recovery.

Ra’s was insanely trusting of Tim. Not just in his ability to do what he wanted but in his belief that Tim would ultimately come around to his way of thinking. Now, I can obviously see that Tim was in a very vulnerable position and if Bruce hadn’t actually been alive Ra’s could definitely have succeeded. But it feels like more than that, especially with Tim’s ensuing behavior. A lot of his time with the league is glossed over or seen from Tam’s perspective, but Tim was acting different. It’s easy to attribute this to the objectively terrible situation and the year he’s had, but his behavior isn’t the same as it was at the beginning of the run either. And the difference in behavior fades. As Red Robin Tim is more ruthless and pragmatic, mostly due to necessity. Even stealing from a museum and fighting for it makes him incredibly uncomfortable. He still did it. But he was still acting like Tim, making jokes and doing his best to diffuse the situation and keep everyone alive. After the surgery his focus gets even more single minded. He barely puts up a fight about leading the league. Of course partly for Tam, and he tried to keep killing to a minimum but cmon. He was leading the league of ASSASSINS. There were assassinations happening. People died when he blew all the league bases and he barely registered that beyond thinking that the council of spiders probably made it out, implying part of him knew death was a possibility and he didn’t care. But he didn’t think about the moral implications of that in a way that was very reminiscent of Jason’s selective morality. If he had stopped to think about it he wouldn’t have done it, but he was focused to much on beating Ra’s, on not compromising, that the complexity of the situation didn’t sink in. The obvious effects of his actions, the possible deaths and injuries of anyone inside a league stronghold wasn’t acknowledged while the underlying message sent to his opponent was the only thing he could think about. Just like when Jason attacked Tim at Titans Tower to send a message to Bruce despite his hardline stance against hurting kids.

So. The League did use the pit on Tim, just a little. Maybe two tablespoons in the wound to accelerate recovery and weaken his morals a bit. It would certainly make a lot of sense. And the writer did change when Tim came back to Gotham so it’s entirely possible that it was meant to be touched on later but was discarded.

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tossawary · 2 months

Text

Thinking about why and how Shang Qinghua left Cang Qiong Sect as a traitor after Shen Qingqiu faked his death (by actually dying) and also why Yue Qingyuan took Shang Qinghua back afterwards... it would be kind of fun to do an AU where Yue Qingyuan actually sent Shang Qinghua to go spy on Luo Binghe.

Like, let's say that Yue Qingyuan figures out that Shang Qinghua had SOMETHING to do with Shen Qingqiu's actions after the Water Prison. By general behavior, maybe, and also because Shang Qinghua did send a coded letter to Shen Qingqiu just before his escape from the Water Prison. Yue Qingyuan doesn't have to have even seen the letter or its contents to know that something is up here if he finds out about that.

Yue Qingyuan also canonically missed Sha Hualing's invasion because he was away organizing the Immortal Alliance Conference, so it's not unreasonable for Yue Qingyuan to belatedly figure out that Shang Qinghua (who almost certainly helped organize the event) possibly had something to do with the invasion of the conference too. Maybe this is the point where a whole bunch of little details over decades of acquaintance click together to form the greater picture.

So, a grieving Yue Qingyuan has caught a traitor, which is terrible for the sect, but a traitor can still be very useful. He doesn't really want Shang Qinghua managing the sect and spying on them now, and Luo Binghe has stolen Shen Qingqiu's body and kidnapped Mu Qingfang (briefly) and is now regularly having fights with Liu Qingge about it, so maybe it'll be preferable to an execution if Cang Qiong has an inside man of sorts? Especially when Luo Binghe is possibly very obviously trying to resurrect Shen Qingqiu (it's something that Mu Qingfang could easily guess from his time there and report back to his sect leader), which Yue Qingyuan probably doesn't actually want to PREVENT even if he would also like Shen Qingqiu's bones back so that the man he loves can rest in peace. Shang Qinghua can be a double agent! Thrown out under the guise of being discovered!

Shang Qinghua: "Sure, sure, sure. But what if I just ran away, huh? What if I just didn't do that for you?"

Yue Qingyuan: "What if I told the new Huan Hua Palace Master, Luo Binghe, that you sent Shen Qingqiu a coded message directly before he escaped the Water Prison and died?"

Shang Qinghua: "...Fuck. What happened to your bleeding heart, Shixiong?"

Yue Qingyuan: "It's not bleeding for you. If any of Luo Binghe's resurrection rituals work, let me know, hm? And try to save Liu-Shidi's life whenever possible."

#tossawary svsss #fic ideas #yue qingyuan #shang qinghua #spoilers #character death #mu qingfang #liu qingge #luo binghe #yue qingyuan and shang qinghua double agent au

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lazycats-stuff · 4 months

Note

I’ve been sitting on this a while but I requested a fic where male batbro reader wasn’t very emotional when it comes to death but could I request a second part?

The readers friend stops being friends with him and is rude to him because of him not being able to understand those feelings of others griefs and is makes the reader feel like a terrible person because that’s what the friend said, the reader trying to act like a completely different person to make up for it.

I’ve just had this happen to me before and it has made me feel like a freak for the longest time ):

I can make a part 2 and I'm sorry you were treated like that. You shouldn't be considered a freak just because you see death differently. Everyone griefs differently and that's okay.

Batfamily & male!reader - part 1

Summary: (Y/N) feels like a freak when he has a fight with his friend.

Warnings: mentions and talks about death, (Y/N) is hurt, Bruce being a good dad

After the incident with Damian's animal dying, (Y/N) has been trying to be more sensitive about death, but it hasn't been easy. He didn't understand why he would have to change his opinions for someone's comfort. Sure, he could comfort you, but he won't be changing his personality.

But that attitude soon came crushing down.

(Y/N)'s friend had a death in the family and (Y/N) tried to be a good friend to him. He really did. But his friend didn't see it that way. He called him a freak and then kicked him out of his apartment.

(Y/N) was shocked when his friend did it. He stood outside in the hall for a few minutes, trying to process it all. Is he really a freak? Just because he can't tap into those feelings of grief? Just because of it.

(Y/N) called Alfred to pick him up, trying not to tear up during the call. He left the building, wiping the tears from his eyes, not wanting anybody to question him and make him talk about it.

He will break down in the privacy of his room, when there wouldn't be anyone. And he will lock the door too, just that so nobody enters the room while he cries. He doesn't understand why somebody would be mad if he knew how he would react.

He already knew he was different, ever since the incident with Damian's animal who passed away. Even before that, his relationship and view with death was aloof and not even serious. Death is natural. Every day we are closer and closer to our death. Sometimes, death comes quicker.

Death doesn't really choose when it comes.

Death just comes.

Alfred picked him up and (Y/N) was quiet in the car ride. Alfred was confused as to why (Y/N) was so quiet, but didn't really question it. He only started worrying when (Y/N) just made a beeline for his room and that was something that made Alfred worry slightly.

Once (Y/N) was inside his room, he broke down crying. Was he really a freak? Was he really that... (Y/N) cried softly into his pillow, hugging it tightly. Why?

He stopped crying once he saw the phone's screen lit up with a message. (Y/N) shakily reached for the phone and cried even more when he saw what his friend wrote to him. He threw the phone, not caring about what has happened to the phone.

He sobbed into the pillow. Why is he considered a freak? He is just different in that aspect, why is that so wrong? WHY? (Y/N) just curled into himself, crying himself to sleep.

But that sleep was short and (Y/N) was awake during the night, eyes burning from the crying he did. He swallowed with more difficulty and turned on his side. Should he change? Should he really be what others are?

Should he try to fit in?

Should he be someone he isn't just because he the society wants him too? Why? And for what?

Was that really his friend if he didn't accept him the way he is? And was he really that insensitive?

He tried to sleep more, but couldn't. He slowly made his way down to the kitchen where Alfred was serving breakfast and everyone was already there. He didn't look anybody in the eyes and was quiet during the breakfast.

Bruce noticed it and wondered what has happened, but has decided to leave (Y/N) alone, waiting for him to come to Bruce on his own. He would observe his son, making sure he is going to be okay. He wouldn't push his son, but he would observe.

And observe he did.

He watched how (Y/N) was slowly changing before his eyes. His behavior was different and Bruce didn't like it. It was far too sudden for Bruce.

He didn't know what has brought the sudden change. (Y/N)'s brothers also voiced their concerns to Bruce, seeing that (Y/N) was behaving differently and they didn't really like it too. It was too sudden for them to pinpoint when it has happened.

Worst of all, (Y/N) outrighted denied it. That either meant he was blind to it or he was fully aware of what's going on. There is nothing in between with (Y/N).

Bruce promised himself that he would talk, but how to breach this to (Y/N)? (Y/N) is probably going to blow up at him and then close more into himself. But if he doesn't talk to (Y/N), whatever that has been bothering him, will only eat him further and it would cause a big problem in the future.

And so Bruce manned up and despite his emotional constipation he is going to see what has happened with (Y/N). He won't push, but he has to see what the hell is going. Bruce knocked on the door, entering when he has heard a faint come in.

" Hey (Y/N). How are you doing? " Bruce asked as he closed the door behind himself. (Y/N) was in bed, curled up in a ball, just tired from all of problems and evil thoughts plaguing his mind.

" I'm good. "

Bruce knew that he needs to thread carefully now.

" (Y/N), we are all worried about you. You have changed and you are not yourself anymore. What happened? " Bruce asked as he sat down on the bed next to his curled up son.

" Am I freak? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce frowned at the question. What the hell?

" Who said that? " Bruce wondered as he put his hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder, squeezing it in comfort.

" You know that my friend recently had a death in the family? " (Y/N) said and Bruce knew exactly who it was.

" Okay? " Bruce prompted and (Y/N) took a shaky breath.

" He called me a freak and sent me mean texts. Why can't I be normal?! " (Y/N) started crying once more and Bruce leaned down to hug his son.

" You are not a freak (Y/N). You just can't tap into those feelings and you know, that's okay. Not everyone can tap into that part of themselves and you shouldn't feel sad or hurt." Bruce said, giving (Y/N) a kiss on the head and (Y/N) cried softly now.

" I think that your friend was just overwhelmed with grief and other emotions and I'm not excusing your friend and his words, but I think he got emotional and didn't think about what he has said. " Bruce finished up his thought and (Y/N) nodded into his pillow.

" Is there anything more that is bothering you? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) shook his head in no.

" Okay. Now, if you want, I can ask Alfred to make you something. You didn't eat much during these days and that's not good. " Bruce said and (Y/N) nodded.

" Anything specific? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) shook his head.

" A surprise then? Okay. You can take a nap if you want. " Bruce said with a smile and gave him another kiss to the head, tucking his son in as if he was a child.

When he stepped out, his four sons were clearly listening in. Dick and Jason tried to explain themselves, more accurately trying to make excuses to get themselves out of trouble.

" Don't. (Y/N) is taking a nap and don't bother him now. "

" What happened father? " Damian asked and Bruce ushered them away from (Y/N)'s room. (Y/N) needed to sleep more than listen to his brothers now.

" His friend called him a freak because he couldn't tap into those feelings of grief. " Bruce explained quickly and Jason and Damian became pissed at the friend, but Bruce told them that his friend is probably going from the place of grief.

Now, that was something that they could understand. Dick just wanted to cuddle his brother to death, but sure, he needs his sleep. Tim wanted to talk to the friend, but grief is a tricky emotion.

Damian and Jason were ready to kill the friend, but (Y/N) would kill them in return. So that was off the table.

" Okay, so how do we help (Y/N)? " Tim asked.

" If he wants to talk, support him. If he doesn't, don't push. He told me everything so he got it off of his shoulders. " Bruce said and everyone nodded.

Okay. That sounds like a good plan. As long as (Y/N) got something off of his shoulders, they are going to be happy. "

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #batfamily #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #nightwing x male reader #dick grayson x male reader

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lvrhughes · 7 months

Text

Best Birthday Present | Q. Hughes

pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none?

summary: You take quinn around for his birthday before ending the night with him, becoming his favorite birthday present

not my gif!

3, 2, 1…

It was midnight. Officially Quinn’s birthday, where he was, peacefully asleep in his apartment and yet you weren’t.

Staying awake, waiting for midnight to send the simple ‘happy birthday’ right away. Running over the final details of your plan for his day, the team wanting to do something for him and of course you’d agree. What kind of media manager would you be if you hadn’t?

The team came to you because they knew you were good at planning, seeing how well you helped plan events in the organization even when it was up to another office. Quickly asking you to help plan a day Quinn would enjoy, making sure he’d have more than enough time alone, at home maybe talking to his brothers and parents.

Your eyes scanned over the plan one last time, ensuring there were no mistakes. The soft buzzing of your phone brought you out of the trance, moving the day plan to the side to see.

Quinn’s name covered the screen, his contact photo coming up beneath.

“Hey Quinner.” You answered, seeing the sleepy boy on the other side of the call.

“Oh did I call you?” His voice was deep with sleep, proving that he had been asleep until moments ago.

“Yes you did, why’re you awake?”

“Don’t know,” He yawned, “Thanks for the birthday message though.” He smiled, a soft, stubble smile that could’ve given any girl butterflies.

“Of course, Quinny.” He always smiled at the nickname, glaring when anyone else would call him it.

“Wait so why’re you awake?” He questioned, realizing he could ask that now.

“Oh, you know just working on some work stuff.” You could hear how terrible the lie was and when Quinn burst out laughing you knew how bad it was.

“You’re lying.” He laughed, leaned up in his bed now, the blanket falling from his chest.

“Me? Lie? Phft never.” You could see his smile even in the darkness, the light from your end reflecting on him.

“Fine, don’t tell me what you’re doing, on my birthday, without me.” He played, clearly waking up now.

“Can’t tell you yet, the team would kill me.”

“So the teams’ in on it too!”

“I already said too much, gotta go Quinny, sleep well, you’ll need it.” You grinned, quickly ending the call after.

Another immediate call back from Quinn came right after, making you answer again. A smile on his face as you accepted.

“Come on, baby, you gotta tell me!” He grinned, seeing the pink cover your cheeks at the pet name. Of course this wasn’t the first time he’d used it, nor the second or third, he used it quite often, purely to get the same reaction out of you everytime.

“Told you Quinny, I can’t but just know, you should be up and out of bed by 11am.” His lips perked up further into more of a smirk at the words, his mind whirling with more questions.

“And why’s that?”

“We got a plan and a schedule we gotta stick to.”

“Oh? And what’s this plan, babe?”

You turned away at the pet name, tilting the camera to the wall as your face turned crimson. Quinn laughed, slowly you turned your phone back to you.

“Goodnight, Huggy Bear.” You grinned, seeing the smile grow on his face before ending the call yet again.

3am, just a few more hours, but until then you’d sleep. Setting the alarm for 9am and curling into your spot on the bed, falling to sleep quickly.

“Ugh.” You groaned at the constant knocking at your door, quickly grabbing your phone to see the time flash, 5:42am, before walking to your door.

“Whoever the fuck this is, you best have a death wish!” You groaned as you unlocked the door, seeing an eager Quinn on the other side. “Quinn?”

“Good morning sleepy head!” He grinned pushing his way in.

“How’d you get my address?” It seemed like a fair question, he’d never been over before and now he’s shown up at your door.

“I may have paid Brock to give it to me.” He shyly smiled.

“My golden retriever betrayed me!” The dramatic groan fell from your lips as you fell on to your couch, seeing Quinn follow you into the living room area.

“Golden retriever huh?”

“Yes, he’s blonde like one and quite literally gives off the exact same energy.”

Quinn shrugged, having no argument. Sitting down beside your fallen body on the couch, tilting his head to look at you.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, closing your eyes, fighting to stay awake.

“I can’t just spend my birthday with my favorite media manager?”

“No, not when you show up too early.” You groaned, rolling onto your side. “I want to go back to bed.” You sighed, opening your eyes enough to stare at quinn.

“I mean you can, but then what should I do?” Quinn shrugged, waiting for a response to kick him out, to go bother Brock two doors down.

“You go back to bed too, you were up at three am with me.” You nodded, getting off the couch slowly.

“But that means going back to my apartment, so I’d have to drive back home, then go back into my bed that I just made,” His list continued, giving you a playful list of stupid reasons why he shouldn’t go back to bed.

“Okay well, go annoy Brock or come to bed with me, take your choice.” You declared, your tired eyes just barely catching the way his widened at your offer.

“You want to take me to bed?” He finally smirked, making you smack his arm.

“Not like that you dick! Fine stay out alone on the couch, miss out on the TV in my room.” You mumbled, turning towards your room.

“No, wait. I’m coming.” He said, quickly following you to your room. Your body quickly falling onto your bed, Quinn following behind you.

“You have the other side, this is my side.” You shooed him away, waiting for him to lay beside you. As little as you’d been with Quinn his presence was always so warm, it was so easy to be with him. To act as if you’d been friends for forever and invite him to sleep in your room with you.

You passed him a TV remote, telling him to put whatever he wanted on, curling up into your side. His eyes lingered on your body far longer than they should've, seeing the rise and fall of your chest as you settled into a comfy spot.

He chose a random show, one he’d seen before, too focused on you to watch anything else. The urge to reach over and hold you overwhelmed Quinn, fighting his own body not to.

Until you rolled over to him, pressed against his body now, his arms instinctively wrapped around you. His eyes closed, feeling your steady breaths against his neck as he held you lulled him to sleep.

Needless to say when more knocking on your door appeared at 8:56, neither of you were impressed. Groaning and hiding your face in Quinn’s chest before realizing that he was not your pillow.

“G’morning.” He whispered, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Morning, birthday boy.” You grinned before the knocking continued. “Ugh, you think if we just ignore them they’ll go away?”

Quinn shook his head, smiling at your unimpressed attitude to get up.

“You know they won't.”

“But I could hope.” An odd silence came after, then the sound of your door opening. “I didn’t lock it after you showed up.” You groaned, hearing that they’d learned that information.

The patter of half the team’s footsteps lead up to your door, seeing it slowly open and Brock’s head peek through. A confused look crossed his face before being pushed into the room by the other members of the team.

“You’re sleeping with Quinn?” Elias asked, straight forward, making you groan again and hide under the blanket.

“You’d think if they were sleeping together they wouldn’t have clothes on dumbass.” Brock pointed out.

“I am not sleeping with Quinn!” You mumbled, peeking out from the blanket to see an amused look on Quinn’s face. “You stop looking so happy.” You glared, seeing quinn put his hands up in false surrender.

“But technically, you are sleeping with me.” He grinned, making you smack his arm, his hand reaching out to grab yours.

“You are only in here because you didn’t want to be alone on my couch when you showed up at 5am!”

The rest of the team slowly piled into your room, some of them immediately turning out at the scene of their captain and media manager in the same bed.

“We came over to go over the plan, we didn’t know he’d be here.” Brock admitted, seeing the written out plan on your desk, grabbing it and Elias’ arm and leaving. He herded the rest of the team out, informing you they’d be waiting in your living room.

“I can’t believe you.” You shook your head at Quinn, who still had a smile on his face.

“What? You don’t want the team to think you're sleeping with their captain?”

“No, I do not. Not when I’m not actually sleeping with him!” The smile stayed on his face as you got up, leaving the warmth of your bed to search for more appropriate clothes for the day.

“You could be.” You froze at the words, turning to Quinn, who still laid in your bed.

“What?”

“Nevermind.” He quickly brushed off, getting out of your bed and folding the blanket up. “I’ll go so you can get changed.” He smiled, walking out without another word.

You walked out of your room, equipped in better attire now. The entire team was squished in your living room, listening to Quinn tell some random story while Brock tried to figure out your coffee machine.

“Do you need help?” You grinned at Brock, who was taking his best guess and pushing random buttons.

“Yes, badly.” So you taught him, which buttons to push and how much water to put in. Letting the coffee brew quietly behind you as you leaned on the counter listening to Quinn.

The next hour was spent making many pots of coffee, your fridge being emptied out by the team, with a promise to restock it for you, and even more stories from various team members.

Then it was time for the first part of the plan. Take Quinn mini-golfing.

Without telling him where you all were taking him, getting him to agree to go was a little harder, but manageable. More manageable when you took his keys from his pocket and made him sit in the passenger seat before you took his car without him.

“Mini-golf?” He grinned as he saw the sign, looking over at you driving.

“Yes, this is the first part of your birthday surprise from the team.” You smiled at him, parking his car beside Brock before getting out.

“Can I have my keys back?” Quinn asked, reaching for them in your hand.

“No, we have more places after.” He shook his head, laughing at the sight of you holding his keys behind your back. “Now, let’s go play!”

The game went good, the team split into groups to play sections of the course at a time, Quinn being the winner of your group.

“We let you win.” Elias mumbled, making you nod along. Quinn almost burst out laughing at the sight, letting out a strangled sound instead, his heart filled with joy.

“Sure sure.” He grinned, getting a light smack from Elias.

The entirety of the game had taken three hours, being slowed down by all the laughing and horribly missed shots.

2pm, just in time for the matinee. Getting the theatre to agree to replay Quinn’s favorite movie had been a bit harder of a task, needing approval from canucks admin to use team money to do so. But it was approved.

So once again you were driving Quinn’s car, him in the passenger seat, staring at you the entire drive, bringing him to another mystery destination.

“Where to know? More golf or?” He asked, staring at you in the mirror.

“You’ll find out in a minute.” He rolled his eyes, returning back to staring at you. “Why’re you staring, Quinny?”

“Can’t I stare at a beautiful girl?” Blush covered your cheeks, making you attempt to smack his arm for him instead to grab your hand. Holding it for the rest of the ride.

“The theatre?”

“Yep, come on!” You grabbed his arm, dragging him inside, quickly running into the line for concession. “What do you want?”

“Um-” Quinn hadn’t had time to answer before the two of you had made it to the front, letting you order first. Quinn nodded along, whispering to you that he’ll just steal your food.

“Could you add another large drink to that too please?” You added at the end, Quinn sending you a questioning look. “You can take my food, not my drink.”

He laughed, taking one of the drinks and following you into the room, the rest of the team trailing behind.

By the end of the movie your head was resting on Quinn’s shoulder, his hand holding yours. Keeping his hand in yours as you left the theatre, leading you back to his car.

“Can I drive my car yet?” He asked as you approached his car, making you shake your head.

“Nope, one more place for the night.” He just nodded, walking to the passenger seat quickly as you slid into the driver’s.

It was a short ride, arriving in perfect timing. 6pm. They had reserved Quinn’s favorite bar for the night, having it entirely to the team and other canucks management.

“Happy birthday, Quinny.” You smiled as you walked in with him, seeing the decorations put up around the bar.

The rest of the team followed shortly, ordering food and drinks, simply having a good time. Quinn’s face held a look of pure joy the entire night, keeping close to you, only disappearing when his brothers called. Yet he dragged you with him, pulling you down a random hallway for some quiet to answer the call.

“Happy birthday Quinner!” You could hear the boys yell over the phone, Quinn thanking them before admitting how much he missed them.

You knew Quinn loved his brothers, but you’d never been close enough to see how much. It was a heartwarming call, his parents calling the minute his brothers hung up, repeating the happy birthdays and I miss you’s.

The minute the call ended your arms wrapped around Quinn’s neck, pulling him into a hug, his arms quickly wrapping around your waist.

“If I would’ve known how much you missed them I would’ve tried harder to get them here, I’m sorry Quinny.”

“Oh, no baby, it’s okay, don’t cry over it.” He smiled, a soft, gentle smile as he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

“But you’re not with your family.”

“But I’m with a very special beautiful girl instead.” He smiled again, wiping the stray tear that fell.

It was like a magnetic force pulling you into Quinn, leaning in subconsciously until he pressed his lips against yours. Feeling your body melt into his, his arms around your waist, holding you against him.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.” Quinn whispered against your lips.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Had to wait to get it right.” He grinned kissing you again.

“Anyone seen Qu- Nevemind.” Tito’s words cutting off, wandering into the hallway. “I came to give you this,” He said, giving Quinn a small box as you hid your face in his chest. “Please don’t mind me, return to whatever I interrupted.” He laughed when he walked away, making you groan and lean further into Quinn.

“Oh no, I didn’t get you a present.” The realization hit you as Tito walked away, leaving you staring at the box he handed Quinn.

“I think you being my girl now is the best present ever.” Quinn smiled, his hand pressed into the small of your back as he turned, pressing you against the wall.

“Yeah? So I’m your girl now?”

“If you want to be.”

“I want to be.”

#mads' writing!#quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #hughes brothers #nhl one shot

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