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forever--darling · 1 year

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as the world caves in | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: there is nothing left to do but bite the bullet and face everything head-on. when neteyam finds you at the tree of souls, he can't help but demand answers while showing the remnants of his broken heart.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 8.7k ( i am nervous about this one)

warnings/notes: slow burn, swearing, major angst continued, mention of sky people, many feelings (too many to be honest), arguing, admission of feelings, crying, double heartbreak, almost to the end (1/3)

series masterlist | one of us: part six | requests are currently open for now

Freedom is a privilege no one really appreciates when they have it. Especially when you’re used to having it; you take it for granted, think it’s going to be there forever, and think that your life is built around free will and personal rights. But that's not always the case when you live in Pandora as a sky person. You’re locked up in a building, dependent on oxygen, on resources that aren’t even from the planet you’re on. Privilege is designed and seen by the link pods, the only machine that can transform you into someone else within seconds. Even that is short-lived though because even when you have the ability to become someone else, something else, freedom isn’t permanent. Because sooner or later, you always have to wake up.

It was iridescent, the only way to utterly describe the sight before you. Iridescent bathed in bright neon bioluminescence lights that glowed as readily as the green lush of the forest. Mauve tendrils dangled down in front of your face, whispering soft assurances back at you, as you stared forward with silent prayers on your tongue. Silent prayers you had held in until now. It was like once they met your lips, they would become poisonous to not only yourself but everyone else around you. The sight of Vitraya Ramunong’s long luminescent rods, reflected in your eyes coating them with hope and The Great Mother’s comfort. The Tree of Souls offered a sacred site for those seeking solitude, a place to bear your soul in the hope of being answered.

You had a lot to bare as you stood there within the draped tree, queue with the lightest sensation bound to a mauve tendril. A neural link, the only possible connection between you and the great Eywa. With your eyes closed, your eyelashes felt like woodsprites on your cheeks and you took in a deep breath, one that felt as if you were filling your lungs completely with hot scorching blood rather than air. A plea was the only thing you could think to ask her. No other words could fall from your tongue but they didn't need to as you could feel her; her large motherly arms and firm comforting aura. You knew you didn’t need to say anything for her to feel your presence and the pain that was sewn across your heart.

Salty tears were beginning to form behind your eyelids. You clenched your eyes harder, trying to conceal them from falling across your blue skin. It was as if the organ in your chest that you were trusted to keep safe was failing you. Slowly piece by piece being chipped away along with the hope you were trying to hold onto. But the longer you kept using the link pod and prolonging the link process, the more it felt the virus was no longer just infecting the body you were born into but every part of you.

Almost as if the virus had made it to your brain and the effects were nullifying the spiritual bonds you had with the Omatikaya clan. Abiotic forces aren’t derived with empathy and you knew it wouldn't surrender just because of your ceremony. You were one of the people and now just as quickly, it felt as if you were being ripped away. With no escape, no lifeline from this very battle, you knew under Eywa’s consolation she wasn’t trying to offer you absolution from your lies or secrets but open up a home for your soul.

As the tears began to slip from your eyes as easily as you were slipping from the concreteness of the world, you could feel the mourning that had overtaken you. Your cries were mournfully falling from your parted lips and you dare to let them swallow you whole. You were mourning this life, this world, this encapsulating version of yourself you hadn’t even known existed but that this body had graciously granted you. You were mourning the future and the love that had overtaken your heart but now fell at your feet like withered petals.

The Great Mother had her great plan laid out and with you completely stuck in the dark about it, you couldn't help but let sickness claw and tear at every remaining hope you had left. Its cuts were deep, tainting, and leaving the last remaining pieces of your personality to resemble the physicality of your human body. Death had plagued you and you knew based on the shakiness of your form and the dizzy spells behind your gold eyes that things were bad. If you were feeling the effects here in this other world and this other body then it had reached a point of no return.

With your jaw trembling, and lips chewed to a pulp in between your pointed teeth, you released the queue from the tendril. Standing up, your hands wiped manically at your cheeks ridding them of the hot salty streams. You rid yourself of the physical implications of the pain that was sewn deeply across your back. Instead, as if it never happened, you let the tendril fall through your touch, the softness and comfort of it leaving your fingertips. Staring forward at it, your ears twitched at the quiet sounds of Omatikaya ancestors.

You then let your head fall back to peer up at the towering tree before you with complete and utter awe. It was a site that had been off limits to you until now, until you had become one of the Omatikaya. With tear-stained cheeks, a broken laugh fell from your lips. With the luminescent green ground warm under your feet and pulsing with every neuron of the forest, you felt the sorrow and the ruminations be pulled from your body.

Laughing like a madwoman, you walked along the hanging tendrils with a light smile pulled at the ends of your lips. You leaned into Eywa’s consolation, her plan tickling your ears as if she were going to whisper it to you. Face clean of the intense feelings that once harbored your body, you walked as if your shoulders were free of every burden you had acquired. It was as if Eywa heard your silent pleas and offered you a moment of relief. A moment of bliss overcompensated by an expression of tranquility that had appeared across your face.

Within the secluded part of the thick forest, your skin buzzed at the sound of muffled footsteps walking along the lush ground. Your ears twitched at the familiarity of it and you let out a breath of relief. Relief that he had decided to come and find you within the tree of pure spirits. You knew you should have retired to your human form hours before, the weakness evidently now taking a hold of your insides, but you couldn’t when you hadn’t seen him yet, knowing that you hadn’t talked to him. You needed to take in every moment of his presence you could. The very presence that left your heart aching for more — for more time, more courtesy to the feelings that were tightly wound around you, for more of him.

Your smile widened. It was soft and completely docile as you watched the lush ground of the forest illuminate under each of his heavy footsteps. Dots decorated his face like ivory stars radiating within the darkness of the eclipse, and you held your breath, praying to the Mother that he would reward you with the sight of his pearly white-coated smile. If there was anything you wanted to commit to your memory, it was that look, that infrequent smile, and the swelling feeling that appeared in your chest at the sight of it.

With anticipation and you standing under the tree, Neteyam felt his chest constrict at the sight of you completely dosed in bright colors reflecting off your skin. You were mesmerizing and ethereal as you stood there still dressed in what you had been during the ceremony with soft wispy pieces of hair framing your face. Even if he wished you could be the last thing he’d ever see, he felt the misery reach around him again and squeeze every delusion to the surface.

The sight of Lo’ak’s battered face flickered behind his eyes and it only reminded him of what had led to it. Of what destruction he had encountered that led to his own crumbling. When he stared at you in your ethereal form, he didn’t feel like he had anything left. Like after all the long months of stolen glances and mixed signals, there was nothing left of himself to give to you. Slowly he had wantingly opened up his ribs and the confines of his body to offer you everything he had inside, mistakenly. Because where that fondness of you still remained it was now overshadowed by anguish and exhaustion.

As he appeared in the light, the soft callings of Eywa draping his face in color, you felt your smile slip from your face. As if the Great Mother was asking you to push it back inside where it came from — to save it for another time away from the Toruk Makto’s oldest son. A gasp was wrenched from your throat, breathlessly, gold eyes dancing across his skin worryingly. Because paired with those scattered constellations was blackening blood expelled from the deepest cuts across his temple, just above his eyebrow, and bottom lip. His chest rose and fell distressingly when he breathed because of the purple and black swellings pressed along his torso and sides.

“Neteyam,” you whispered, disbelief coated across your tongue.

Your eyes flickered down to his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if they hadn’t softly been pressed against your chest hours ago. His tail swished from side to side while his guarded eyes that managed to never leave yours, the entirety that he approached, refused to waver until you said his name. His eyes stared back at you until his name had fallen effortlessly from you. The overwhelmingness that coated his insides forced him to drop his stare to the lush green ground rather than the woman before him.

Your silence became suffocating as you stared, unable to look away from the stains that coated his skin, caused by someone else’s hands. It made your whole body tighten. The effects of his crestfallen expression and the state of his body filled you with an entirety of new panic you had never felt before. Your thoughts bled with questions like bulletholes that were detrimental and unable to coagulate. How did this happen — the spotting with his father, while in the sky, did a sky person shoot them down, threatened them, chased them back into the forest where more were left waiting, and worse of all had they been far over the territory line than anyone realized. Like a never-ending horror show, you felt the panic take over every inch of your body completely taking priority over anything else.

Neteyam could not stop the pounding in his ears as your quietness did nothing to resolve his pain-stricken self. Even with you there in front of him, he felt Lo’ak’s words echoing in his head, tearing down every reserve he tried to build up on his walk over. He told himself to not get too close to you, to separate the light featherlike hold you had around him. The hold was evident in the way his eyes flickered back up to you with your silence drawing him back in, asking for him. The notion brought on a cold sweat that bathed his skin and sunk deeply into the open wounds like salt.

He could read your mind, the panic that had completely overtaken your features, burning every other emotion that had once resided there. Your mind was going around in circles like a boundless carousel and he cursed himself for feeling affected by it. Your eyes met his and with so much uncertainty filling them, he only had one answer for what and who was responsible. “Lo’ak.”

Your eyes widened the panic starting to crawl at the back of your throat drowning you completely, “W-What? Is he okay? What happened?”

A slight hiss fell from his lips as if you had reopened one of the many bullet wounds lodged deep within his chest wall. One that Lo’ak had put there. Tilting his head to the side, he closed his eyes for a moment. It was like you had struck him and he hated himself for how much you asking about his brother affected him — hated how much you affected him.

When he looked at you again he noticed that the pinched look of confusion on your face had deepened at his reaction. He shook his head slowly, glare meeting your timid gaze. “No. Lo’ak.”

You shook your head softly, trying to decipher the meaning of his brother’s name. Frantically, your eyes swept back and forth between Neteyam, the boy in front of you, whom you were desperately praying for day and night, and the dark forest behind him. His cryptic response left you with a dizzying, all-consuming trepidation. Your hands hung out in the air, ears tightly pulled back, and your gaze matched the constant steady of your thoughts as they flickered every which way. Lo’ak.

As if Eywa had sent you the very answer, your breath was snatched from you and your body stiffened. No. No. Your eyes snapped up to meet his just as your tail swished irritatingly. His once fleeting stare didn’t move again but stared forward, watching as all fear was expelled from your body with a single realization. You looked at him with disbelief, taking in his clenched jaw, spiteful eyes now being overtaken by unshed tears. Within the desolate area, it was like the distance was vast between your fragmented bodies. It was like you had already lost him to an unimaginable force pulling the two of you apart. But to Neteyam it wasn’t an unimaginable force, it was Lo’ak.

Distress overtook your shaking form at the thought. Lo’ak. You wondered what he must look like in comparison to Neteyam and felt your entire will be wretched from your body to only be laid at the future Olo’ektan’s feet. Because what happened to them wasn’t something or someone but each other.

“Neteyam, no,” your voice trembled as you let yourself breathe again, “No.”

He was silent for a moment, face struck with the same distress that you thought had occupied you. But based on the tension that was pressed firmly between his shoulder blades and the scowl on his face, his was far heavier than yours. His glare didn’t falter but only seemed to harden further as if he was once again the shell of the man he was when you met him. Spoiled with an anger that was grasping tightly at his throat, mostly afraid of anyone seeing past the facade he had stitched onto his face for years. He was trying to hide the stability of his sanity and the pain that was threatening it. He was trying to hide how you made him feel and worst of all, the affliction you had caused him.

You could see it past the unshed tears in his eyes and the frustration that was reverberating from his hands. How desperate he was for some exoneration. As he stared forward at you, you knew then that somehow he had heard about everything that had happened between you and Lo’ak. It was a rotting truth that somehow had taken the man you had known for months and turned him inside out. As horrible as it was, some of you felt satisfaction. Even as his heart twisted before you like it couldn’t take any more, you were presented with the indisputable fact that what he felt for you was there. His pain served as a confirmation to you.

“He told you,” you whispered.

Neteyam huffed suddenly, his arms lifting out in front of him as his hands clenched further into fists. At the sight of the dried blood as well as the open cuts on his knuckles, you felt your stomach drop and your eyes soften There was nothing you wanted more than to step forward and take each of them in yours. You wanted your touch as well as your lips to heal his wounds you had caused not only physically but emotionally, but the look in his eye had you glued to your spot. A wave of anger and hatred you had never seen before in it.

You felt yourself stepping closer craving to be near him. Needing something to ground you as it felt like the whole world was burning around you. His eyes narrowed, and you felt yourself crumble slightly at the sight. Deception.

“You act as if I did this,” you suddenly felt defensive as if you had to protect what was left of your own heart, “The choice wasn’t mine. I didn’t ask Lo’ak to make this decision of who he wanted to be his mate. It’s not mine to bear.”

“So you’re saying you told him no,” Neteyam said, breaking slightly noticeable by the sharpness in his tone as he took a step closer to you, “You explicitly told him that you didn’t want to be his mate. That you couldn't, not with what rules Mo'at has set.”

It was a shot. Such harsh words to get back at the inexplicable deception he felt by you. He wasn’t going to try and lessen the blow not when he thought you had done so much worse. You felt it just as it was meant to. Like he was trying to hurt you, go against every part of himself that had feelings for you, and hurt you plain and simple — whatever it took. You knew this was his defensive nature, his soldier makeup, doing everything he could to not break, to not tarnish, to remain strong to the orders bestowed on him.

He was being cruel because cruelness would keep you at an arm’s length away. Far away so he could stay true to what the clan needed of him, what the world needed of him. They needed every part of him including his heart which meant it wasn’t free to give away, especially to you.

You glowered up at him, trying not to let your mind get distracted by the bleeding cuts across his face.

It was your turn to have your quietness serve as an answer for him. An answer to his question. He nodded then dropped his arms to his sides as a pained exhale parted his lips, “Then it is yours to bear. Then it is just as much your choice as it is his. It is yours to bear.”

It is yours to bear. The words were spiteful but so desperate and you felt them shake your core as every expectation and ask of him seemed to be proudly on his shoulders at that moment. He bears the entire world and he always would until it would lead to his collapse. He would hold it all until it finally killed him. He will give the clan, his family, and his father everything until there would be nothing left of him but an imprint of dust. He didn’t have the strength to carry the weight of his love for you, let alone his pain. The repetition of the unknown article of it was completely evident as were the tears in his eyes that threatened to fall. Where he held up the entirety of the world and the conflicts that arose with it, the rest was yours to bear — his heart, his soul, his suffering.

“Then I will bear it,” you whispered, the sob within your chest was scorching, as the quiver of your lips was inevitable, “You’re right. It was just as much my choice as his. I should have told you that he had asked me, but I didn’t. Because I haven't decided.”

You had watched as he had absorbed your first sentence like it would save him but then by the end of your honest answer, you watched just as carefully as his entire body fell. Because I haven’t decided. Soldiers and warriors are trained to be made like gunmetal and piercing arrows, but even gunmetal can tarnish and arrows can break. No one is imperishable or has the ability to prevent themselves from getting hurt because you’re not in charge of your own pain. Other people were. They are the ones who deliver the blows, who ask for everything and give nothing. They are the ones who prove that you can’t be imperishable.

His eyes became drenched, his unshed tears displaying it all to you. You knew then as your own tears threatened to spill, even if you took his suffering away, bearing the weight of it wouldn’t make the truth any less painful. He shook his head almost mournfully, like no matter what you said to him, he would be saying goodbye to not only you but the possibility of the two of you.

“I didn't give him an answer or tell him no because I just needed a minute — a moment to feel like this isn't my life. That a man can propose to me and I have the ability to say yes. Trust me, all I think about is what Mo'at said. Because no matter how hard I try or what I do, I will never be allowed to live like everyone else. Not while I still have this weight of a whole other life on my shoulders. And it is suffocating because it’s all I can think about. How ceremony put aside, I will never be one of you.”

Just like that streams of salty tears rushed down your cheeks, the hold on them broken by the very same words that had once been spat in your face by the same man before you. The very man, who once had to say those heavy agonizing words as if it was the easiest thing he ever did. Now you mirror them back at him earnestly, torturously like it took everything in you to say. With your ears pulled back, you feel that sob rising in your throat like a knot that refused to disappear. It threatens to cause more wreckage to this already fatal tragedy.

You sighed, it sounding broken as it escaped, “So when Lo’ak asked me if I wanted to be his mate, I allowed myself a moment to feel what it would be like to say yes. A moment where I could have everything. Right then, I couldn’t say no because I needed to remember that feeling it gave me, and now I just need time to try and figure out what to say.”

The exhale that is ripped from his throat pulls the sob right out of yours. His dreadful gaze is nauseating as he steps closer to you, his own lips trembling as if he had already been crushed, and by his next words, maybe he had.

“A moment?” a cool chuckle fell from his lips, “Really? So, then why did you go to Mo'at? Why do you request a consciousness transfer? If it was about some fucking sentimental bullshit, you wouldn’t have asked this of our Tsahik and decided to gamble your life with Eywa. You’re planning your whole damn life here Y/N. Your future. So, don’t go and tell me you haven’t given him a decision yet because you needed a fucking moment to try and revel in some feeling.”

It turned out as he stared back with daggers in his eyes, it wasn’t the weight of everything he carried that led to his demise but the weight of his broken heart. You think yours became collateral damage, broken just as much as his, caught in the line of fire.

“Neteyam,” you cried, not knowing what else to say but his name.

He recoiled from you, taking a step back as if whatever answer you gave him or explanation wouldn’t be enough. His lips twisted painfully, trying to stop them from trembling as he wiped at his eyes. He had been trying so hard, to keep his tears from escaping, to keep them where they were gathered within his eyes. At the sound of his name falling from your mouth, sounding so much like grief, he was able to pull himself together letting his anguish be masked by anger.

“Just stop! Just... what the fuck, Y/N? A consciousness transfer. Are you serious?” he cursed, the only way to handle how absolutely empty he felt inside, “Are you trying to make me lose my mind?”

Taking your silence into his hands and the fresh tears that fell from your eyes like a river, he let the last of his patience snap inside him like his last will to live. “How can you do this? Do you have a fucking death wish?”

That one hit you right where it needed to and you felt your mouth drop in shock and just as your chest tightened it was accompanied by a flutter — a flutter that wasn’t supposed to be there. You didn’t let it have your attention though, not even for a second. However left with your mouth agape, you were stranded of knowing what to say next.

“What you are asking of the Great Mother is too much. It is dangerous, not to mention rarely successful. You are risking your life and what I can’t believe is that Lo’ak was going to let you. He fucking knew and was going to let you go through with it anyway. He is a coward and he knew about your request to Tsahik. Not only did he not try to stop you, but he used it as a way to get you to be with him. Like some damn bargaining chip. He is a fucking coward and you’re just mindless.”

“Mindless?” you huffed, your voice unsteady and aching from the cries that had reverberated within the quiet forest, “You don’t get it, do you? You were supposed to understand this better than anyone but I guess I was fucking wrong about that too. Neteyam, time here is a factor. A factor that one day is going to run out, maybe quicker than any of us realize. Oxygen is depleting, and resources are limited. More sky people are coming. They are coming and they are not going to stop. Nothing is promised and what I want more than anything is this. It’s this life.”

The flutter increased but as it did it only became an ache, an ache that seemed to increase as your heart rate did. His eyes drank you in as if it would be the last time, a sheer of sweat formed across your back and your palms. He doesn't move closer though. No, he just stands there, mesmerizing every inch of your face in case this is an argument he won’t win. In case Tsahik accepts your request and you are uprooted from this existence and his whole world.

“I can’t let you do this,” he spoke, strongly, his voice cutting through all of your senses as if it had complete control over you.

“It’s not your decision to make.”

It was brutal. Your words and admission were brutal, leaving him with his breath hitching like he was afraid to cry. An irrational fear that it would break everything inside of him to pieces worse than you already had. He hated this. He hated this. That was all he could think as his eyes clenched shut, worried about the ruinous consequences he would face when he chose to ask his next question.

“Why Lo’ak?”

The question was torturous to him, the mention of his brother excruciatingly reminding him of the markings across his entire body as well as the welts across his knuckles that were left.

He sighed, as he managed to push out the last of his remaining words, “Why didn’t you say no? I know Lo'ak and for years I have had to listen to him talk about you, go on and on and on about how he feels. But I think you and I both know that the way he feels isn't how someone should feel for their mate. So, tell me, why haven't you told him no?"

The ache worsened and it was like your chest was going to explode. Your lungs were burning like pins were being pelted at the organ trying to poke holes into them. That nauseating feeling returned to your head from what you could only assume was the rush of emotions pulsing through your entire body. But you wouldn't let yourself falter under his unwavering gaze. You wouldn’t dance around it and offer him cryptic explanations or hide how easily you craved him. You craved him and knew that with every fiber of your being as easy as he had broken you, he could put you back together. And as you stared at his wet eyes, emerged in unsaid words, you knew deep down that if you could, you would spend an eternity letting him do it.

“Because I knew I could never have you.”

A shudder shocked through Neteyam’s body at your words, his hands clenched shut, yearningly. His head was swirling with a newfound desire. One of relief to hear you admit it so willingly, to finally say in so many words that what you felt for him was real and that what he felt for you was requited. It wasn’t in his head and it never had been. It had always been him. That thought paired with the way your gaze was swimming in so much passion and so much hurt made his chest tighten as if he would stop breathing right there. He felt his words get lodged in his throat and he knew if you got any closer you would be able to hear the interworkings of his heart. The way his heartbeat was frenzied and completely under your control.

“Neteyam, the way I feel about you is... consuming. The way I want you consumes me, completely.”

He knows the meaning behind your words, how scary it had to have been to say them. He knew the weight of them as they actively slithered their way past his chest after all the beatings it had taken in a single day. The words installed every single hope back into his shattered organ but even with the warmth that was beginning to spread, the spite dipped in acid was not budging from where it sat lodged in the base of his stomach. He knew what he was about to do was going to leave you battered and bruised and completely dejected but he couldn’t help himself from saying it anyway.

“No,” he denied your words like he was denying a fact that had been calculated wrong. He was taking your feelings that had been expelled from deep inside and was giving them back to you on a platter as if he didn’t want them.

“No?” you choked breathlessly, your voice losing all the strength it had left as the burning in your lungs become completely unbearable.

His face loomed over yours, face twisting further than it had before as if his next sentence would hurt him more than it could possibly hurt you, “No because how could you just not say anything? How could you contemplate having something with Lo’ak? If it was me... how could you? If you felt this way, why not tell me?”

With a shuddering inhale you reply with, “You’re going to be Olo’eyktan one day.”

He huffed, your answer fueling the anger that lingered in the base of his stomach. You lifted your arms up just as your vision began to blur, becoming waves of mauve and the blue of his skin. With your hands reaching out towards him, he didn’t bother to move away from your touch. “How could I tell you when—”

He cut you off, voice overpowering yours. “I trusted you. I trusted you and the second that I think… you just move on as if I didn’t have a say. You know you’re just like everyone else.”

His words tore into you. Tore into your flesh as if making you bleed could possibly heal his own wounds or rather settle the scale. It felt like maybe it had as it was like your lungs had bursted, the struggle to breathe emulsifying with the rapid heart rate and your sweat-coated skin. Your hands were shaky and desperate to be held, hoping he would grace you with one last touch.

With the only breath you had, you felt yourself pushing it out painstakingly with his words I trusted you still coating your heart. “Neteyam, I—”

The link pod lifted like the top of a casket and you felt the light blind your eyes in hues of white. A huge gasp was wretched from your chest like your soul was trying to be yanked from your body. As if the afterlife was present and ready to collect. Skin drenched in sweat, your lungs were gasping, trying to devour the air that was being pulled in from your diaphragm. Fingers curled together at your sides, you felt your eyes flickering to the ceiling as control had disappeared from your body. The feeling of the gel encasing your body was cool but you couldn’t completely register it. Not with your heart beating as fast as it was paired with how your whole body was twitching beyond belief. It was almost like every anatomical system was failing you.

“Fuck,” the coarse word echoed in your ears like hysteria as the person lifted the metal cage from your body, “No, no, no. Ugh, fuck.”

The ringing in your ears subsided, as the sudden interruption of the link process numbed your senses. Within the next few seconds, you were cognizant, able to hear the obnoxious beeping next to your ears that usually only went off when there was a machine malfunction. Then you felt the twitching in your toes like a reflex reacting to a sensation. It started in your fingers a second later and from there began to travel up your entire body through the neuron channels of your nervous system.

Two hands slipped under your shoulders and began to lift your body as your gasping got worse. “Max, help! Need some help here, now!”

Norm watched as the twitch in your fingers stop for a second, a mere second before your eyes began to roll to the back of your head. Your body went limp in his arms and knowing what was to come, he slipped a hand under your knees and lifted you from the link pod. Your breathing was short now, too quiet, as your eyes fluttered behind your eyelids. The second your human body started to convulse in his arms, jerking back and forth, he began to lose his grip. With not enough time to get your body to a bed, he fell to his knees and laid you on the tile floor. As he rolled you onto your side, he couldn’t help but take note of your gritting teeth and shaking limbs. Your cold, pale skin, slipped through his fingers as your head flailed from side to side.

“Max,” he screamed out again as a few other scientists appeared at his side trying to do what they could to help. His arm braced against your back to keep you from falling flat onto your backside. “Diazepam, now!”

His panicked eyes found your form again and as he stared at your stiffening face, all he could think about was you at six years old, laughing in a chair, sharing your red stringy candy. Your giggle was the sweetest sound in the world as you watched the scientist make horrible jokes that could only get a child to laugh. Then as he blinked the memory was gone, replaced by the eighteen-year-old young woman who now lay convulsing under his hands. Suddenly, the future, the very demise that the two scientists had been working all day and night to deter or to altogether avoid was playing out right in front of his eyes. An inevitable outcome of an impossible problem.

He says your name. Once and then twice. Anguish and distress laced into his voice so strongly he felt that it could be permanent. He doesn’t move but stands, now with the physicality of holding his world up in his arms; you. His calloused and familiar hands cascaded across your arms to your back — your exposed now suddenly cool back. His touch languished as his fingers rubbed up and down the base of your back feeling the indent of your spine. Your name suddenly felt like the only word he could manage to form as his breathing heaves up and down while his body trembled and shook with terror.

The rest of your words had been stolen from you and let to drift into the unknown that was the desolation between him and you. His name was the last thing to grace your tongue, leaving him in a puddle of heartache. Your dispute was being pulled into the air by the large gasp that had been wretched from your body. Legs collapsing under you, he felt his entire universe shift as you fell forward, eyes rolling back into the base of your head. He grunted as he caught your torso in his hands, his battle-scarred hands, covered in his brother’s dried blood and his own. Your neck collapsed from the weight of your head and he felt your forehead fall to his chest. The pull of gravity paired with dead weight drilled your body straight into his.

He felt himself stumble as his hands shifted to wrap around your back while the panic began to claw its way from his stomach. With one arm strongly wrapped around your lower back, his other hand drifted up quickly to your face. Pulling your head back away from his chest, he feels his insides tighten at the way your head folds back. Your face was tilted up towards the mauve tendrils of the Tree of Souls as if asking for a kiss from Eywa herself while Neteyam’s hand cupped your cheek, brushing the soft hair from your face.

“No, no, Y/N,” he tripped over his words as he took a breath, solidifying the terror rising up in his throat. Alarmed gold irises wide and quivering flickered across every feature of your face. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, and the softness of your eyelashes that peacefully kiss the tops of your cheeks. He found himself tracing the ivory specks that were scattered across your smooth blue skin.

“No, Y/N, please,” he begged, the tone of his voice foreign to himself as he stared up into the lush dark forest around him. The quietness reminded him of the void that surrounded him. Ruminations were taking over his face led by your heavy words that had once been whispered in his ears like the best-kept secret. The way I want you consumes me.

But all things must come to an end.

You were being ripped from his reality and as his thumb traced over the cupid’s bow of your upper lip, he knew this couldn’t be his goodbye. Whatever had happened to you, this wasn't going to be his last image of you.

All of his senses became alit at that moment, focused on your collapsed form in his body. Clearing his throat, he tilted his head up towards the night sky as the stars taunted him back. He let out a loud scream, a call sign that echoed within the trees of the forest. His hand fell from your face and instead swooped under your legs, pulling your entire body up and off of the ground into his strong statue. He stumbled away from the Tree of the Souls into the clearing of the forest, eyes racking the sky in desperation, a quiet please falling from his parted lips.

He heard the familiar screech paired with blue and purple-coated wings as he was about to tilt his head back and yell out again. Relief flooded Neteyam’s system for a moment as his Ikran flew down and landed within the trees of the forest. He climbed on with ease and connected his queue, arms tightening around you. With a single click of his tongue, the Ikran was taking off into the night sky towards the village. Neteyam's eyes throughout the ride flickered from you to the sky, feeling the panic increase and begin to suffocate him from the inside out slowly.

Landing in the base of the village, he slid from the creature, his arms numb and chest heaving. Not many people were still out and wandering but those that were, found their wide terror-stricken faces on Neteyam as he carried you with both arms. The anguish of his pain was now tightly swelling around every piece of him, the idea of losing you in his grasp killing him slowly. The fire was put out and other riders and hunters who watched the future Olo’eyktan sprint by with the new Omatikaya woman in his arms felt the alarms going off in the man’s head. They could see the panic laced within his eyes and couldn’t help but feel it forming in themselves. They all began to mumble to one another and just as his own hut came into view, it felt as if the news was going to get there before him.

Stood outside, illuminated by a soft lantern and the night sky, Jake stood with Neytiri. They were whispering under their breath as their youngest son sat in their tent, getting patched up their two daughters. Lo’ak’s hisses of pain and discomfort echoed out of the tent but the couple was too immersed in their conversation. Their conversation about Neteyam. Jake had agreed to give the boy another ten minutes before he was striding out of the village with an attitude to be reckoned with. Neytiri stood trying to calm her husband down as they tried to unravel what had happened between their two sons to invoke a fight.

A fight that seemed to come out of nowhere, invoked by all of the worst possible feelings and words. Jake had been trying to wrap his head around what his oldest son could have been thinking for almost twenty minutes. His very son who could never go out of his way to defy him — his very own son that would one day own and control every piece of Jake’s current world.

Neteyam — the warrior, the soldier, the hero. The very man who could have outfought Atlas, Achilles, or Hercules. The very man who gave everything to the world including his bones, tears, sweat, and blood. The perfect son. The perfect soldier. Toruk Makto’s firstborn had thrown a punch at his younger brother, multiple at that and Jake simply couldn’t figure out where any of it was coming from. The last look on his son’s face as he stormed off, was the only thing on repeat in his mind.

“Dad!” Neteyam yelled with as much of his voice as he could as his throat was raw.

Jake’s ears flickered curiously able to hear his son’s voice as well as the desperation heard in it. With his arms tightly crossed over his chest, he was prepared to deliver hell but as he turned to face Neteyam, his facade dropped immediately. Quickly it was forgotten as he found his son's battered form rushing towards him caring a statue of dead weight in his arms. A dead weight Jake could clearly identify as you. Neteyam was barely breathing at that point as both his mom and dad rushed toward him.

“Dad, please,” Neteyam begged.

“Shit,” Jake cursed, eyes scanning your ashen form to see no markings or visible injuries, “What happened?”

Neteyam stumbled over his words, his father’s question bringing back every single second of the conversation you two had. Muted within his ears, he felt as if he could still hear your voice. He shook his head, arms tightening around you unable to even calm down enough to let his father take you from him, “I-I don’t know.”

Neytiri gasped at the sight of you, her hands reaching out to take one of yours that was hanging limply in the air, “Oh Eywa.”

Jake’s hands ghosted over your form as if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. His marine persona instantly clicked on and like a true soldier, he began to go through a checklist in his mind. No bulletholes or blows to the head. “No injuries? She didn’t fall or anything?”

Tears gathered in their son’s eyes and Jake tried to not let himself get so caught up in it knowing his attention needed to be on you. Neteyam shook his head still unable to let his tears fall recklessly across his face, especially not in front of his father. “No, no, we were just talking and—”

As if it was the most evident answer in the world, right in front of his face, especially as a previous dream walker it should have been the first thing he thought of. Sudden disruption to the link process. It was the only explanation, usually done by either someone manually kicking a person out of the avatar body through a red button or the individual pulling themselves out. Jake knew Norm and Max though and knew how dangerous it was when a link process was interrupted. What it could do, the harmful effects, and how the longer the link procedure the higher the risks increase. Jake knew Norm and Max. Jake knew you. This wasn’t deliberate. Something had happened.

“We have to go,” Jake suddenly snapped, his eyes connecting with Neytiri’s within the darkness of the village, her eyes clouded with sorrow, “We need to go right now!”

As if his words had cut through the air like a knife, his head snapped into the direction of their hut, hearing the front flaps be pulled back quickly with hurried steps following. Kiri and Lo’ak rushed out from inside as they heard their father’s tone through the doorway. Spider and Tuk were only a step behind them. It was as if a war had been set off then. Like a siren had gone off initiating war and the beginning of a long cold spell of suffering. All of their eyes fell on the lifeless form draped across Neteyam’s arms.

A moment of silence. A beat where all of their eyes were drilling into the body — your body. The shock after a few seconds wore off and their eyes widened in horror and their lips twisted on their faces. The parents were quiet, feeling the grief that was starting to form within their children and the denial that was sure to follow. Jake shook his head, hands locked around your cold shoulders, knowing that it wasn’t time for that yet. Not when they didn’t know what had even happened.

It was too early to be grieving over someone who wasn’t even dead. That’s what Jake told himself as the tears from his youngest began to fall in complete confusion. Jake could only hope that he was right as the thought rang through his mind — you being sick. Norm told him it wasn’t great. Dread formed within his stomach then, knowing it had to have been the cause.

At the same time that Kiri mumbled out Neteyam’s name to draw his gaze to her, Lo’ak was sputtering out in confusion, “W-What h-happened?”

How was he supposed to explain this to his children, his four children who didn’t understand the entirety of what link pods were or the neural pathways that connected the human consciousness from one form to another? They barely could perceive the idea of dream walkers and let alone that you were one, how was he supposed to explain that what happened to you wasn’t normal but there was a chance you were okay?

Just then a cry from Tuk filtered into his ears and he felt his fatherly instinct start to outway the soldier. Neytiri was about to release your hand from her grasp to scoop her youngest child up into her arms but was still at the worried look that washed over her husband’s face. His frown practically glued her in her spot and asked her not to move. “Neytiri, we have to go.”

She nodded and as both her and Jake released their hands from around you and stood, he could feel the sharp gaze from his children burning holes into his back.

He couldn’t escape though as his oldest son’s voice was drawing his attention again, “Dad I want to come with you.”

Broken. That’s how Jake could describe Neteyam. The sight of a broken man as if he had lost everything and at that moment as he held your body in his arms, unshed tears staining his eyes, he was. And it was all that Jake needed to understand what was going on. You, that was the sole answer. The answer that Neytiri and he had spent most of the evening trying to find. The common link between it all. Neteyam’s brazen attitude, his absence in the hut at night, his distractedness, the need to start a fight with his brother, and his storming off after. You — you were the formidable answer.

Which was the exact reason why he couldn’t let Neteyam come. If that wasn’t the look on his face and if you weren’t the answer to everything, he would. Now that he was older, it was very rare that Jake wouldn’t have Neteyam accompany him anywhere, but this wasn’t right. Especially when he wasn’t sure what they would find, he couldn’t.

“No, I need you to stay with your sisters and with…” Jake felt his voice trail off as his eyes fell down to the avatar’s body still tangled in his son’s grasp. It felt wrong to say that it was you because even if it had been for months, in the current state it was just a shell of a person — consciously you weren’t there. “Just take her to Mo’at, okay? She’ll know what to do.”

Jake watched his son’s ears become taut, his lips twisted into a frown. The disappointment was the sole cause of the look on his face, almost as if he had his hands tied around his back. There was no argument, no defying of his words, just complete silence, bestowed on Neteyam like an unwanted gift. He watched as his father and mother called to their direhorses, the sound of their calls perpetrating his ears. Then as if they were never there, they hopped on and rode off into the forest. The pliable shape of your avatar body was the only reminder that it all had in fact happened.

one of us taglist is not working the best right now and I have over the limit of people asking to be tagged (it says it's fifty) so, for now, I am just not going to have a taglist because I can't tag everyone and it's taking a lot of work to figure out.

#avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction

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rachalixie · 1 year

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Can yyou write something for minho x reader where they're maybe hanging out with the rest of skz in public or something and she gets sacred or something and hold/tugs on minhos shirt and minho gets all soft and just 😳☹️🤧

a/n: this took me entirely too long, the months long writers block is getting to me!! but i hope you like it, it is definitely inspired by the recent haunted house content hehe

you don’t know how you ended up here.

well actually, you do. it was seungmin and jeongin’s doing, dragging the rest of the boys and you along with them to this haunted house in the middle of may when there shouldn’t be haunted houses outside of autumn.

and really, you were all game on the drive there, teasing felix where he sat wringing his hands together and biting his bottom lip in nervousness. you’ve never been to a haunted house, but you were more excited than anything. you liked scary movies enough, the sheer ridiculousness of it made you laugh more than scream in fear. how could this be any different?

but as you’re standing there, halfway through the building and breathless from the way you’ve been shrieking, you regret everything about agreeing to be here. turns out, real life jump scares are much worse than ones on a screen. you’ve been glued to minho’s side the entire time you’ve been here, so close to asking him to turn back and leave through the entrance even though you have the same amount of distance left until the exit.

you’re towards the back, letting the two youngest lead the group and chan, the ever protective leader, is trailing behind you and minho at the end. it would be nice to have him as a protective wall if he didn’t cower to the side every time a single noise was heard, exposing your backs to whatever was behind you. you couldn’t complain though - you were doing the exact same thing.

between the screeches and taunts of the clowns and ghosts and creeping zombies jumping out at you and the combined chorus of yells from your party, you’re overwhelmed. you grip onto minho’s shirt, turning your face to hide into his chest and you have to walk in an awkward sideways shuffle but hearing his fluttering heartbeat under your ear is comforting enough to make it worth it.

the thing is, you know he’s scared too. you saw his face when you arrived there and he heard the screams coming from inside, no matter how hard he tries to hide it you can always read his feelings like the words are written across his features.

or maybe it’s the way he’s gripping onto your hand, the one not tangled into his shirt, like a lifeline. you don’t know who is squeezing tighter, but it will be a miracle if neither of you end up with numb fingertips by the time you get out of here.

you hear him gasp and you peek up at him to see his furrowed brow and slightly parted pout as he looks at you with wide eyes. neither of you are very keen on public affection - you’d prefer to keep your cuddles and smiling kisses and heated touches at home, safe and protected and yours. to have you tucked into him like this because you’re scared was a new experience.

you can practically see the gears turning in his head as his gaze flickers back and forth between you and the dark hallway you’re surrounded by. when you flinch at a bang behind you, his eyes turn bright and he wraps an arm around you, pinning you to him as he shuffles you along. he covers your exposed ear with his hand, blocking out the sounds, and sooner than you think you’re walking out of the building that you swear you’ll never step foot in again.

somehow you’re miles ahead of the others, and you get to watch them a wander out in various shades of disarray. felix is draped across jisung’s shoulders, looking like one of the ghosts that were haunting you just moments ago. jeongin and seungmin were grinning and excitedly recounting their favorite parts, and chan looks a second away from murdering them. hyunjin is coddling changbin, a hilarious contrast to how they usually function.

and minho still has a protective arm around you, gazing warily at the exit doors like something was going to follow you out of there. you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his skin for a moment before pulling back. it shocks him out of whatever state he was in, and his eyes go soft when he looks at you.

“okay?” he asks, low enough so no one but you could hear. his voice is like music to your ears after they were attacked by the loud sounds of your friends.

“yes,” you grin, leaning into him a little bit more. “my hero.”

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #skz fluff #lee know fluff #soft #stray kids soft thoughts

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fuzzyautumninmetal · 4 days

Text

Loving Husband pt 2

Olderhusband!Price 🤝 YoungerWife!Reader 🤝 Trying for a baby

The beginning is a lil sad I'm sorry

Part 1 Part 3

It had been two months. Two months of trying, of hoping, of praying, and yet still no positive result. Each negative pregnancy test was a dagger to your heart, a cruel reminder of the unfairness of life. Despite your tears and sorrow, John remained steadfast in his support and love, comforting you in your moments of despair and promising you that they would eventually achieve their dream of starting a family together.

"We're gonna get there my love," he assured you one night after another failed attempt left you in floods of tears. "Just hang in there for me, okay? We're stronger together, remember?" His words were a lifeline, pulling you back from the brink of desolation and giving you the strength to keep fighting, to keep believing that someday they would succeed in bringing a child into their lives.

You wiped away your tears and took deep breaths, John saw you were trying to stay positive for him and for yourself. "I love you. So much" You managed to say through ragged breaths.

John watched as you struggled to regain control of yourself, wiping away your tears and taking deep, steadying breaths. He could see the effort it cost you, the battle you waged against your own despair, and it only made his admiration and love for you grow stronger. Seeing you try to stay positive for his sake touched him deeply, reminding him once again of why you were the love of his life.

"I love you too, baby," he said softly, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly against his chest. "We'll make this happen...together." His words were a vow, a promise that they would not give up, that they would continue to fight and hope and pray until their dreams of becoming parents were realized.

John held you tight as you cried on his shoulder. You stayed like that for a long time, just crying and clinging onto him. But eventually you calmed down and looked up at John with teary eyes.

As you calmed down and looked up at him with tears still glistening in your eyes, John smiled softly and gently wiped away the last of your tears with his thumbs. His heart ached at the pain he saw etched across your features, but he knew that all he could do was be there for you, to support and love you through the difficult times. "You okay now, baby?" he asked gently, cupping her cheek in his palm and leaning in to press a tender kiss against her lips.

You nodded slowly and kissed John back, feeling yourself calm down even more at the feel of his lips against yours. "With you by my side.... I'll always be okay" You whispered.

John smiled warmly at your words, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. He knew that you were right; with you by his side, he could weather any storm, face any challenge, and overcome any obstacle. Together, they were strong enough to conquer anything, including their shared dream of starting a family.

"And with you by my side, I can accomplish anything," he replied softly, pulling you closer and resting his forehead against yours. "So let's keep fighting, yeah? Let's keep trying and hoping and praying...until we finally get our happy ending."

John pulled you close again, hugging you tight as you buried your face into his chest. Your heart beat steady against his ear as you breathed him in. A tear rolled down your cheek as you thought about everything you had gone through together, all the ups and downs, the good times and bad. But despite it all, here you were, still together, still fighting, still loving each other.

Feeling you bury your face into his chest and hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his ear filled John with a profound sense of contentment and peace. He held you close, wrapping his arms around you and savouring the warmth of your body pressed against his own. As he felt the warm trickle of a tear against his skin, he knew that you were thinking about all they'd been through together, the trials and tribulations they'd faced, and the strength of their enduring love.*

"Hey," he murmured softly, tilting your chin up with a finger under your jawline. "No more tears, okay? We're strong...we can do this."

Feeling your soft lips against his own, John knew that you were pouring all of your love and affection into that single kiss. He returned your embrace passionately, his hands cradling your face as he lost himself in the taste and feel of you. The kiss was a testament to their enduring love, a symbol of their unbreakable bond and their unwavering determination to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

After breaking the kiss, you rested your head on John's chest again, listening to his heart beat. "Don't forget Soap's invited us for a BBQ this weekend" You reminded John.

At the mention of the barbecue, John chuckled softly, his hand stroking through your hair soothingly. "Yeah, I did forget about that didn't I?" He said, smiling. "Well, maybe it's a sign. Maybe we should go, have some fun, take our minds off things for a bit." His words were hopeful, filled with the belief that perhaps changing their environment might lead to a change in fortune.

You smiled up at John and nodded "Yeah, you're right. We need to take our mind off things. And besides, I'm sure Soap will have plenty of booze, we could use a few drinks." You giggled.

John grinned at your suggestion, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. "You read my mind, sweetheart," he said, winking playfully. "A few drinks, some good food, and great company...sounds like just what we need."

"But first," he added, leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. "How about we take a nice hot bath together? Soak away our troubles for a while..."

Your cheeks turned pink as John suggested a hot bath together. You giggled and playfully pushed him away. "Naughty boy! You're trying to seduce me when I'm supposed to be sad!" You teased him, he always knew how to cheer you up.

John laughed at your teasing, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. "When am I ever not trying to seduce you, sweetheart?" He asked, pulling you back into his arms and nuzzling your neck.

"But you're right," he continued, his voice dropping to a low purr. "You are supposed to be sad. So how about this? I'll make you laugh, cry, scream...and then I'll make you scream some more. Deal?"

You giggled at John's proposal, running your fingers through his hair as you looked into his eyes. "Deal" You whispered, kissing him again before leading him towards the bathroom where you drew them both a hot bubble bath.

Following you into the bathroom, John couldn't help but admire your figure from behind. Your curves were enticing, your ass round and plump - a sight that never failed to stir his desires. His eyes locked onto you as you started drawing the bath.

"You know," he said, stepping up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. "I think I've got a better idea..."

Before you could react, he bent you over the edge of the bathtub, spreading your legs wide apart. He then plunged to fingers into your tight cunt.

Caught off guard, you gasped as John's fingers entered you roughly. You gripped the edge of the tub tightly as he began to finger fuck you. You moaned loudly, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

Feeling your tight walls clench around his fingers, John groaned in pleasure, his cock throbbing with need. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside you.

"God, you're so wet," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "And you sound so fucking delicious..."

Your whole body trembled as John fingered you relentlessly. You reached down between your legs and began to rub your clit, amplifying your pleasure as you moaned and whimpered.

Hearing you moan and whimper, John felt his control slipping. His cock was painfully hard, begging for attention. Pulling his fingers out of you, he spun you around and pushed you against the wall next to the bathtub. He then lifted you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, giving him easy access to your dripping cunt.

Caught by surprise, you let out a loud gasp as John thrust into you, filling you completely. Your legs quivered around his waist as he began to pound into you, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clawed at him.

Feeling your nails dig into his shoulders, John groaned in pleasure, his hips slapping against yours as he pounded into you. His cock throbbed inside you, stretching her tight walls deliciously.

"Oh, fuck..." he muttered, his breath coming in short pants. "So fucking tight...so fucking perfect...my perfect wife."

Your eyes rolled back as John fucked you against the wall, your pussy clenching around his cock as you screamed out in pleasure. You reached up and grabbed his face, pulling him in for a rough kiss as you moaned into his mouth.

John eagerly accepted your kiss, his tongue duelling with yours as he continued to thrust into you, harder and faster. His hand roamed over your body, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, and squeezing your ass.

"I love you," he managed to gasp between thrusts. "Always have, always will"

Your breath hitched as John continued to fuck you, your body shaking uncontrollably as you climaxed, screaming out in ecstasy. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, urging him on as you came.

Feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, John knew he wouldn't last much longer. He quickened his pace, thrusting into you with wild abandon as he neared his climax.

"Fuck...I'm gonna cum," he gasped out, his grip on your ass tightening. "Fill you up...my beautiful wife..."

"Please John" You gasped in between moans. "Fill me up....give me a baby"

Hearing your plea, John grunted in response, his thrusts becoming even more frenzied. His cock twitched inside you, signalling his imminent release.

"Fuck...I hope so..." he panted, his body shuddering as he finally erupted inside you. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his seed filling you up completely.

"Ahh...fuck!" he cried out, his grip on your ass tightening even further.

Your body convulsed as John emptied himself inside you, his hot cum filling you up. You kissed him passionately, your tongues wrestling as you rode out your orgasm together. John held you close, his hands caressing your back and ass as he slowly slid out of you.

"That was...incredible," he murmured, panting heavily. "But now we really should draw that bath"

You giggled as John pulled out of you and gently put you down, his cum leaking out of your still quivering pussy. You nodded and led him over to the bathtub, pouring in a generous amount of bubble bath. John got into the bath first, then you got in after.

As you settled between his legs, John wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him. He sighed contentedly, enjoying the warmth of the water and the feel of your soft skin against his own.

"This feels nice," he murmured, nuzzling your neck. "Just what we needed after all that excitement"

His hand moved down to her belly, gently rubbing circles there. "Hopefully we did manage to give ourselves a little surprise tonight..."

"I hope so" You smiled as you intertwined your fingers with John's. Admiring your wedding rings.

John returned your smile, his gaze falling on their entwined fingers and the wedding rings adorning their fingers. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, feeling a surge of affection for you.

"These sure are a reminder of how lucky I am," he said softly. "To have found someone like you."

He leaned in closer, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. "I love you, my dear wife."

You looked up at John and kissed him back, your lips lingering on his for a few seconds before you spoke. "And I love you, my dear husband."

John returned your kiss, deepening it slightly before breaking away with a soft chuckle. "Well, isn't that just the sweetest thing?" he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "My lovely wife, who can make even the toughest soldier melt with her words."

You blushed deeply at John's compliment, "You're just a big ol' softie when it comes to me." John chuckled softly, leaning in to press another kiss to your cheek.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted with a grin. "There's no denying it, sweetheart. But don't go spreading that around, okay? I've got an image to maintain." You laughed softly and shook your head, "I wouldn't dream of it, darling."

John grinned, leaning back against the edge of the tub as he pulled you closer to his chest. The warm water lapped against them, creating a soothing rhythm that seemed to match the steady beating of his heart.

"You know," he mused, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your stomach. "I think this might just be my favourite part of the day."

He chuckled softly, nuzzling your neck. "Not the sex - though that was pretty damn fantastic - but this. Just being here with you, relaxing and talking. It's perfect."

You smiled softly as John talked about his favourite part of the day, his fingers tracing patterns on your stomach. You closed your eyes and snuggled deeper into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Mine too."

John smiled, his heart swelling with happiness at your words. He tightened his hold on you, pulling you even closer if that were possible.

"And to think," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "we almost didn't get married. Can you imagine? All those missed moments...all these wonderful memories we could have missed out on."

You sighed softly and cuddled deeper into John's embrace, your fingers tangling with his as you gazed out at the stars twinkling in the night sky through the window. "I know. It's crazy to think about."

John nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the stars outside. A sense of gratitude and appreciation welled up within him, making his heart swell with emotion.

"But we did get married," he said softly, his voice thick with sentiment. "And for that, I'm truly grateful. Because without you, my life would be nothing more than a series of battles and losses. With you, it's a journey filled with love and laughter."

You smiled softly at John's heartfelt words, tears pricking at your eyes. You squeezed his hand and turned to look up at him. "And without you, I'd probably still be wandering aimlessly, trying to find some meaning in my life. With you, I've found not only love, but also purpose."

John's heart pounded in his chest as he listened to your words, his grip on your hand tightening instinctively. He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat as he fought to keep his emotions under control.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "More than anything else in this world."

You stared at John for a moment, admiring him, "And I love you, more than anything. You're my whole life". You gave him a gentle kiss before you began washing yourself, once clean you started started getting out of the bath.

John watched as you began to stand from the bath, his gaze trailing appreciatively over your wet, glistening form. He couldn't help but admire your beauty, both inside and out.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, reaching out to pull you back down into his lap. "John" You laughed as he pulled you back into the bath.

John smirked, wrapping his arms around you again, holding you close. His lips brushed against your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

"I thought we had all night," he whispered huskily, his erection already stirring beneath the water once more. "No rushing off to bed just yet, Mrs. Price."

"Sorry Mr. Price" You smirked as you started grinding against his cock. John groaned as you ground against him, your movements sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He reached down, his hand sliding between your thighs to guide his length to her entrance.

"Not sorry enough," he muttered, thrusting up into you. His other hand moved to cup your breast, thumb rolling over her nipple teasingly.

You moaned softly as John thrust into you, his hand squeezing your breast as his thumb rolled over your sensitive nipple. You arched your back, pushing yourself further onto his cock.

John's breath hitched as you took him fully inside you, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He held your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you rode him.

"That's it, sweetheart," he groaned, his free hand moving to stroke your clit. "Ride me...just like that."

You moaned louder as John stroked your clit, the sensation causing your pussy to clench around his cock. Your hips moved faster, grinding against his hand as you fucked him harder and faster. "Oh god, John"

John grunted in response, his grip on your hip tightening as you picked up the pace. He could feel himself losing control, his climax building rapidly.

"Fuck, sweetheart..." He gasped, his thrusts becoming erratic. "I'm gonna...fuck, I'm gonna cum."

You smirked at John, you were feeling spontaneous tonight, you decided to take charge. You wrapped your hand around his throat. "Not yet baby" You slowed down your pace. "Not until I say so."

John's eyes widened in surprise as you grabbed his throat, slowing down your movements. He groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more than to release himself. "Yes, ma'am," he rasped. "As you command, Mrs. Price."

You smirked at John's submission, you loved seeing him like this, needing you. "Good boy" You mumbled. You leaned forward letting your lips be dangerously close to his but not kissing him knowing it drives him insane.

John bit back a groan as you teased him, your lips tantalizingly close but not quite touching his own. He wanted to reach up and grab you, force you to kiss him, but he knew better than to defy his wife. "Oh fuck, sweetheart," he breathed, his cock twitching inside you. "This is torture."

You giggled at John's words, you liked having power over him. You leaned back and started riding him again, your hands resting on his shoulders for support. You started fucking him faster.

John let out a guttural growl as you resumed your passionate movements, his hands gripping your hips firmly. He could feel his climax approaching rapidly, every thrust driving him closer to the edge.

"Fuck..." *he gasped, his thrusts matching yours. "I'm gonna...oh fuck"

You slowed down your movements again. "Not yet Mr. Price" You smirked at John, you were enjoying torturing him. You leaned down and began kissing his neck, nipping it occasionally.

John groaned in frustration as you slowed down your movements once more, your teeth grazing his neck adding another layer of pleasure to the mix. He gripped her your tighter, desperate to maintain control.

"Sweetheart..." he warned, his voice strained. "I'm warning you...if you don't let me finish soon, I'll have to punish you later."

You smirked at John's threat, you loved the idea of being punished by him. You continued to ride him slowly, torturing him. "Is that a promise Mr. Price?"

John gritted his teeth, his grip on your hips tight enough to leave marks. He was teetering on the edge, his climax threatening to spill over any second now. "Yes, it's a fucking promise," he growled, his voice laced with desire and frustration. "Now stop teasing me and let me finish."

You laughed at John's words, you loved how much he needed you. "Oh so demanding" John groaned, his patience wearing thin. But despite his frustration, there was an undeniable thrill in submitting to your whims. "As your husband, I demand it," he said with a smirk. "But if you want me to beg, I will."

You smirked at John's words, you loved hearing him beg. You stopped riding him completely, leaving him hanging. "I would love nothing more than to hear my husband beg"

John let out a frustrated growl as you stopped moving entirely, leaving him hanging. His cock throbbed inside you, desperate for release. "Shit" he groaned, his voice strained. "Let me...please, sweetheart. I need to...oh God, I need to cum."

You smirked at John's begging, you loved hearing him plead for you to let him cum. You started riding him again, your movements slow and sensual. You cupped his face and ran your thumb over his bottom lip. "That's a good boy"

John let out a relieved sigh as you finally started moving again, your movements slow and sensual. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a low moan as your thumb grazed over his lip.

You smirked at John's reaction, you enjoyed making him squirm. You rode him for a few minutes before speeding up your pace, your hands running over his chest and stomach. "How's that Mr. Price?"

John groaned in pleasure as you sped up your pace, his hands reaching up to grip your hips tightly. He could feel his climax approaching rapidly, every thrust bringing him closer to the edge. "Fuck, yes," he gasped, his voice strained. "That's it, sweetheart...just like that."

You smirked at John's words, you loved hearing him praise you. You leaned down and kissed him passionately, your tongue exploring his mouth. You broke the kiss only when you felt John's cock pulsating inside you. "Cum for me baby"

You sped up the pace, your head falling back. "Oh fuck" You gasped. Your cunt clenching around John's cock, his fingers gripping into your waist hard enough to leave bruises. "John!" You cried as you fell forward. John's entire body tensed as you urged him over the edge, his cock throbbing inside you. He could no longer hold back, his climax ripping through him with a force that left him gasping for air.

"Fuck, sweetheart," He groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilled himself deep within you. John laid beneath you, panting heavily as they both recovered from their intense orgasms. He could feel your hot breath against his skin, your kisses and gentle bites sending shivers down his spine.

You lifted yourself off John slightly, looking down at him. You had a satisfied smile on your face, your eyes sparkling with happiness. "Can't I get out of the bath now?" John chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her back down onto him.

"No, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice husky with satisfaction. "We're staying right here until the water cools."

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #captain john price #captain price #john price smut #john price x reader #captain johnathan price #mw2 price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price smut

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pjsk-writin · 1 year

Note

Hgrelp its like 11pm n i got baptised but anyways

Can i request hc's (+ a small lil story) of the pjsk boys with a gn reader who like nEEDS to hold something while resting in bed/sleeping bc they've always been sleeping with a plushie n it feels weird for them to not hold sum and then when the boys ask the reader they don't wanna admit it but like the nexy time the chara comes into the readers room theyre just like sleeping w/ a plushie n they go like "oh so thats why"

Tldr; gn! Reader who alaays clings onto character bc it feels weird not to hold a plushie -> when character asks why the reader doesnt admit it -> but when character comes into the readers room to jand oht they see them cuddling w/ a plushie -> character fibally realizes why

HSIDEJ TY

FBSMKSF HELP ? but omg this is so cute....I hope u like this !! <3

♡ CLINGING IN SLEEP - Akito Shinonome, Toya Aoyagi, Tsukasa Tenma and Rui Kamishiro x Reader

Akito:

He would never admit it to you, but Akito gets really flustered any time you cling onto him in your sleep-

It's one of the main reasons why he asks you actually. Not that he doesn't like it, he just hates when you wake up and see him all flustered-

Much to his surprise, you get pretty flustered when he asks, dodging his question with a small laugh. Well, now he needs to know-

His investigation always fails...Until the day you let him hang out at your house. He discovers it rather quickly

"Hey, babe? Do you have-" He walked into your room, finding you clinging onto a plushie like a lifeline. "...Oh."

He grins, stepping closer and looking at the plushie in your hands. He takes a picture to tease you about it, but a part of him can't stop thinking about how cute you look <3

Toya:

Toya might get flustered by you clinging onto him, but he finds that it's really nice actually...You always make him feel so warm

He asks you out of pure curiosity, not wanting you to stop persay, more wanting to know just in case he's ever not there for you to cling onto

You dodge his question in response, and he just drops it because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable...

Luckily though, he gets the answer to his question when he hangs out at your house.

"Hon, are you okay?" He walked into your room, before pausing once he noticed you clinging onto a plushie, the exact same way you clung onto him. "Ah..."

He watched you sleep for a bit, before tucking you into bed properly, kissing your forehead and fixing the plushie in your hands. How adorable... <3

Tsukasa:

Tsukasa was absolutely ecstatic when he realized you cling onto him when you sleep. He loves affection, and it makes him happy any time you hug him close!

He asks you about it with a wide grin, finding the habit a cute little quirk of yours

You end up dodging his question, and he pesters you about it before huffing. Fine then, he'll find out! A future star can solve mysteries on his own!

He figures it out when you invite him to hang out, and he's ecstatic

"My favorite co-star! Are you?-" He cut himself off when he saw you clinging onto a plushie, and his eyes widened before sparkling at the sight. "Aha!"

He keeps quiet, tip-toeing up to your side to see the plushie you were clinging onto. He grins and pats your head and its head, already planning to show you his own plushies <3

Rui:

Rui absolutely melts whenever you cling onto him in your sleep. He tries to hide it, but the wide grin on his face shows it quite obviously.

He asks you about it one day to tease you, that same amused grin on his face as he asked you

You dodged his question, which made him poke and tease you even more about it. Don't worry, he's sure to find out soon...

And that he does, once he hangs out at your house one day

"Dearest, do you happen to have a screw?-" He paused once he saw you sleeping, clinging onto your plushie. "Oh my...What do we have here?"

He absolutely memorizes the plushie's look so that he can tease you about it, but he spends his time watching you with a small smile. He envies the plushie in that moment <3

#project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #akito shinonome x reader #shinonome akito x reader #toya aoyagi x reader #aoyagi toya x reader #tsukasa tenma x reader #tenma tsukasa x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader

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itoshiexx · 9 months

Text

warmth

synopsis: you were satoru's sun, and he loved to bask on your warmth. until your flames died out and you became a cold star.

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader | words: 485 | warnings: angst, character death

notes: just a lil something i wrote while i was sad today. this is probably shit. also i really hope gojo's pic is from the manga, but since i'm not following it up, PLEASE let me know if it isn't!

at a certain point in his life, satoru learned he needed warmth.

perhaps it had always been there; that need growing deep in his core, gnawing at his insides the more his infinity separated him from the rest of the world. he thinks it was somehow inevitable. his abnormal power was lonely in all its forms, and quite literally made him feel cold, nearly shaking his bones. the more he improved his technique, the more he felt like the warmth given by the sun wasn’t enough — because although it passed through his invisible barrier, it never actually reached and penetrated his skin.

with time, he learned that the only thing that was ever able to satisfy him was the warmth given by another human being.

that being said, it was no shock satoru’s love language was physical touch. after he met you and his heart inevitably became yours, all he knew how to do was touch you somehow, so that the heat of your body could pass to his. it was the only thing that kept him sane in a world full of curses and the weight of being the strongest sorcerer in the world. it was the only thing that made him feel human, like he was more than just the gojo name and his six eyes.

his lips were always tracing your shoulders and your neck, feeling your pulse to remind him you were alive. his ears were always glued to your chest, listening to your breathing so that he knew you were there, by his side. his hands always wandered through your waist, your hips, your arms, just taking any opportunity to remember someone, throughout the heavens and the earth, loved him as just satoru, and not whatever else he became due to his heritage.

you became satoru’s sun, scorching with life amongst too many deaths. the beam of your smile was enough sizzle to bring him back from a dark abyss, giving his life more meaning besides being the honored one.

your warmness was his lifeline, the one thing he held onto so that he didn’t lose his way.

but as he would come to learn, love was the greatest curse of all; a beautiful thing that was never meant to last. as fast as the chilling blizzard of winter, one day darkness swallowed his sun whole, wilting its gleam and killing every flame until it was nothing but a big, black sea of nothingness — like it never even shined in the first place. as if its heat wasn’t the only thing keeping him going. as if your existence wasn’t the only thing in this universe worthy of devotion.

the higher ups said it’s not the end of the world, gojo. but those old geezers couldn’t be more wrong.

for satoru, holding your cold body and no longer feeling your warmth was exactly what the end of the world felt like.

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mediocre-writerr · 1 year

Note

hello!! i'll submit this on behalf of everyone who wants a part 2 of smoke slow. for the medicore 2k party, i'd love a pt 2 of smoke slow with the prompts

"she could be perfect, but the problem is she'll never be you" (somebody's nobody by alexander 23)

"i still love you, i promise" (i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams)

reader has been avoiding wanda and they're both grieving the loss of their relationship. they finally see each other again and talk about it. if you're not up for a happy ending for them just yet (bc they will get a happy ending 😠), maybe a hopeful ending? idk i just need a part 2!!

somebody's nobody [wanda maximoff]

summary: requested by anon, part 2 of smoke slow; you try to keep your distance from wanda, so your older sister could be happy. even though nat is the most perfect girlfriend, the problem is, she's not you

warnings: mentions of panic attack, cigarettes, drinking, angst

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x sister!reader, yelena belova x sister!reader

*not my gif*

It was strange to see the world moving on.

Wanda lost you. The one thing she never wanted to lose you, even before the two of you had your clandestine meetings, she never wanted to lose her best friend. Now it feels as if all the air in her lungs has been taken away from her. She’s frozen, just for a moment. Frozen in shock. Frozen in loss. Her own mind slowly closing in on her until the only thought left in the air is you.

Yet, everyone is moving so fast around her. Nat begging her to move in with her, but that also means living with you every second of every day. Your group of friends throwing extravagant parties, yet the smell of your smoke was nowhere to be found. Her professors make her write essays about love and loss, like it’s such an insensitive topic. Did they not feel her heart break and the ground shake as she sobbed when she got home that night? Can they not hear her thoughts screaming out your name?

Apparently not.

It’s funny how a simple smile and a fake laugh can win you an Oscar.

Wanda needed a moment. One night where she could push you and her thoughts about you aside and just live. So, she did what anyone would do, and drowned herself in alcohol.

Tony’s party was as lively as ever. Wanda went over to the speaker and turned up the music to maximum volume, anything to stop the stubborn thoughts that kept flooding her mind, but no matter how loud the music was it was never enough. So she started dancing around the kitchen by herself, grabbing the bottle of whiskey by the neck, cradling it against her like it was her only lifeline.

She could still see you. She could see you walking up to her during one of these parties with a bright smile on your face. You’d tell her a dorky pick up line that she pretended to hate, but she couldn’t hate them even if she tried. You would ask her to dance before the two of you snuck up to the balcony, holding each other tightly, like the asteroid was going to hit Earth any second.

As she was dancing, she could practically feel you. Your arms wrapped around her waist, as you swayed to the music. It reminded her of the time, you’d sneak over to her apartment, and in the mornings while she’d cook breakfast you would dance with her to the soft sounds of her favorite records. What she would do for just one more morning like that.

“Hey pretty girl, let me just take that from you. I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” Carol’s blonde hair swooped in front of her, stealing the bottle from her hands. But Wanda’s entire body cringed, like she just heard nails digging into a chalkboard.

“Don’t call me that,” she spat, anger fuming in her body. You were the only person who could call her that. Not even Nat does.

Carol raises her hand in defense, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I’m not Nat, I know. It’s just a pet name I say to everyone,” Wanda stumbled slightly, as she tried to cross her arms, gripping onto the counter to stay afloat. “Wanda, do you want me to call Nat? She can pick you up. I think you need to call it a night.”

Wanda shook her head rapidly, fast enough for her to grow dizzy, “No. I’m fine!”

Before Carol could argue, she stumbled off and away from the crowd. She needed air, that’s what she needed. Something to make her feel like she wasn’t suffocating. The backyard was empty, but she couldn’t seem to get out there. The lights were too bright. The voices were too loud. Her clothes suddenly felt like a small t-shirt that she was struggling to get off.

“Wanda, what’s wrong?” A familiar voice filled her ears in an echo. One of your other best friends, Gwen Stacy and her boyfriend Peter Parker aka Peter 3, came into her line of sight. The Sokovian tried to speak, but no words came out and she only shook her head. Gwen hesitantly reached her hand out to wipe the tears off her cheeks and she flinched back slightly.

Wanda’s breathing started elevating as she felt her chest constricting. Peter looked at his girlfriend with furrowed brows and puzzled looks in his eyes. Gwen instantly grabbed Wanda’s hand at the sight of her breathing. The blonde whisking the brunette away to the balcony, your guys’ balcony, upstairs. At the feeling of fresh air, Wanda instantly fell to her knees, sitting against the wall.

Gwen orders her boyfriend and he nods awkwardly, stumbling and running back into the house. Wanda could barely process the girl’s words due to her ears ringing and her eyes blurry with tears, “It’s okay, Wanda. You’re having a panic attack, but it’s okay. I’m here to help you through it.” The Sokovian’s chest was in pain each time due to her labored breathing and constricted chest.

Gwen tried to get her to match her breathing and offered her soothing words, but nothing was working. Moments later, Peter came stumbling back with you right behind him. You quickly kneeled down in front of the brunette, offering her a sad smile. Wanda’s breath hitched, not because of her panic attack, but because of the sight of you.

“Thank you for grabbing me and staying with her. I can take it from here,” you tell the couple and they both nod, giving Wanda a reassuring smile before taking leave. You hesitantly reach out for her hand, not wanting to overwhelm her even more. “I’m here, Wands. I’m right here. Just focus on your breathing, okay?”

Wanda closed her eyes, the patio lights weren’t hurting her as much as they were before. The loud ringing noises slowly faded away as you quietly butchered one of her favorite Sokovian lullabies. Her beautiful green eyes met yours and you watched as her chest started to even out, “There you go, you’re okay,” you cup her cheeks, wiping all the tears, just like you promised you always would. After a few moments, you help her up to her feet steadily, “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Before the two of you could leave, she grabbed your wrist gently, “I don’t want to go back to my apartment alone. Can you take me to yours please?” The exhaustion in her voice causes your heart to clench and you just nod before leading her outside.

There the two of you were again, on the big city streets, sneaking away from a party just like you always used to do. Long gone were the nights where the two of you sang your hearts out to some random songs. Instead it was met with silence and coldness. Wanda noticed how your eyes lingered on her, making sure that you were okay. She swore you ran a red light to look at her, but that was okay. Because Wanda would die to keep your eyes on her.

The two of you entered your unusually quiet apartment: Natasha was fast asleep after she got home from a long business trip and Yelena went out to some frat party with Kate, Peter, and America. You told Wanda you’d grab her some blankets and pillows for the couch. The two of you agreed that you did not want to bother Nat.

Your room was drenched in the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Empty liquor bottles littered your room and you let out a huff at the sight. This is what you resorted to. You couldn’t go out to parties anymore without the plaguing thought that you’d see her there with your sister, madly in love. So, if that meant turning to old habits, so be it. It was only temporary anyway, the pain will eventually subside and you will be fine.

Grabbing a couple blankets, your eyes found the makeup stained pillow. They weren’t even yours, they were Wanda’s, from one of your many rendezvous. The two of you just talked about everything: her parents, Pietro, Sokovia. Everything she lost and all you did was hold her tight, while she prayed to whatever God was out there that she wouldn’t lose you too. She didn’t tell you that though. Only tightening her arms around you and finding comfort in your scent.

You snap back to reality, grabbing a different pillow from your bed and making your way back to her. You saw her back turned to you, staring at the curtainless window. You took the opportunity to study her, your heart leaping into your throat as you stared. “As you can tell,” you spoke up, causing her to flinch back. “Still haven’t gone shades for that window. You know, after you broke it.”

You tried to lighten the mood, but a sad smile just brushed along her face, “You were the one who suggested dancing with the refrigerator light. You have two left feet, so I don’t even know why you thought that was a good idea,” she quipped back and you smiled back, laying the blankets over the couch.

The Sokovian lay gently down on the couch, letting out a soft sigh. You took a seat next to her on the floor, “Are you okay, Wanda?” She opened her eyes, the green in them mixed with the red of her crying eyes. She didn’t say anything, just staring at you with a pained look deep in her eyes. You clear your throat, looking away, “I’m gonna get you some water and Advil.”

When you reach the fridge, you let the cool air of the machine calm your nerves, inhaling a sharp breath. You hated seeing her like this and knowing you were the cause of it. But it was for the best, you knew it was for the best, or at least that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. Sucking in one more breath and wiping away a stray together from your eyes before going back to her.

Taking a seat back onto the floor, right next to where her head rested, you placed the water on the coffee table. “I don’t know if you want to take them now or later, but here you go,” you whispered.

“Do you remember that night we were lying in your bed and we were just talking about anything and everything we could think of?” she asked out of nowhere.

“We had a lot of nights like that, Wands.”

She shook her head, “The night where you told me how you would love me forever. We were curled up in your bed and I remember I tried to argue with you and tell you that you can’t promise that. But all you did was cup my cheeks and whisper it over and over and over again, with kisses in between each phrase until I smiled and told you that I loved you too,” your heart ached at her exhausted voice. “Do you remember? Because I do.”

Your knees curled up to your chest, “Of course, I remember. But that doesn’t matter because you deserve better than me, you deserve to be with someone as perfect as my sister.”

“That’s the problem. Natasha is perfect, but she will never be you! You said forever and I almost bought it, Y/N! But then you go and you break my heart!” she says frantically, trying to keep her voice steady, but it was no use you could hear every crack.

Your hands find her cheek, cupping it softly as you brush away the stray tears. Your heart drops as you feel her nuzzle into your touch. You closed your eyes tightly, the lump growing bigger in your throat. “I had to, but that doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you.”

“What do you mean you had to? We were going to face these consequences together, but you backed out like a coward!” she spat and you knew she didn’t mean what she was saying. She was hurting and you deserved it.

“Yelena found out about us. She scolded me for it and I didn’t want to believe she was right, but she was. Natasha has given everything up for me and I decided to have an affair with her girlfriend. So if Natasha could give up everything for me and Yelena, I could give up my everything,” you whisper, smiling at her sadly. “You are my everything, Wanda Maximoff, and you always will be.”

She let out a quiet sob, her lips were pursed as she tried hard to stop the trembling. You let go of her cheeks, intertwining your fingers together. “We had a good run, my love, but this was always bound to happen. This is for the best.”

“If this is for the best, why does it hurt so much?” she cried out.

Your eyes softened, fighting your own tears, as you pushed away a loose strand of hair from her face. “I don’t know that answer, darling. Maybe one day, we could meet down the line, after all of the time and give an actual try. I don’t know if you’d give me that opportunity again, I know I’ve hurt you. But right now, I am half of myself without you. You are the best thing I have ever had in my life and you had no control over this. Please know that, there’s nothing you did wrong. This is all on me, okay?”

More tears began welling in her eyes, “I miss you,” she said, her voice broken.

Your chest tightened as you watched her cry silently. Instinctively, you sit beside her on the couch, pulling her into your arms, holding her from behind. Her sobs muffled into your neck as she found safety in you. You press a soft kiss to her head, trying your best to comfort her as much as you can.

“I am always here for you,” you mutter. She didn’t respond, but she slowly calmed down. Her breathing evening out once more, “I’m right here. Get some rest okay? You’ve had a long night.”

“Y/N?” her voice was hoarse as she whispered your name.

“Yes Wands?”

“I still love you.”

You sniffled, blinking away the tears in your eyes, “I still love you, pretty girl. I promise.”

Your sister’s heart dropped, as she hid in the darkness of the hallway. She heard every word.

#wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagines #a mediocre 2k party

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resuswhore · 1 year

Text

overview: m/m resus, fluid in lungs; cpr, suction, pacing, very hardware heavy. whumpy with a happy ending.

- this was originally written as personal/private piece, I wrote to get off, but I decided to share, so the flow might be a little odd. - perspective slightly shifts from beginning to end, but nothing drastic, just a heads up. - this is my first official piece on here, hope y'all like it.

I need to hold a limp and vulnerable boy in my arms, to feel his soft skin and brittle bones fall completely to my will, I want to hold his hands in mine, knowing his life depends on me. I want to hold him as he lays unconscious in a hospital gown, to kiss his almost too cool forehead, and listen to the beep beep beep beep of the monitor as his heart struggles to beat for itself.

I want his body is intruded upon; IVs in his hands and wrists, even in the crooks of his elbows, a PICC line taped down against his bicep, a central line embedded against his chest, a jugular line if I’m really luck, giving me access to all of him, to his weak heart and sickly body. I’ll to press kisses along his arms, port to port, iv to iv, feeling the sterile plastic beneath my lips. I’ll hold his cold hands in mine, weary of the pulse ox taped to his forefing, making sure to be gentle as I hold onto him like I’m his lifeline, and in a way, I am.

I will take him into my arms as he struggles to remain in the same plane as me, slipping between the veil of life and death. I’ll call his name and shake him in a way that seems far to harsh despite my attempts to be gentle with his fragile body; I’ll to watch as his limbs flutter around helplessly, and his head lolls against my shoulder, his face remaining slack.

As his heart begins to fade, I’ll force my knuckles into his sternum, rubbing at it harshly until it is covered in bruises. I want to feel his weak attempts at whimpers and the hiss of struggled breaths, as I try desperately to force life back into his weakening chest, to make his dying heart beat a bit stronger, a bit faster. I’ll take seflish pride in knowing the pain I’m causing him is saving his life, even if something that could almost label as guilt or shame tears through my own heart.

I’ll try to help him breathe, even if I know my actions are futile; I’ll help him sit upright, laying him against my chest, fluid spilling from his lips as I use a single, gentle hand against his throat, gripped tightly around his jaw, to hold his airway nice and open, while also tilting his head slightly down to allow him to pass the fluid keeping him from getting air. Every time he begins to choke, despite lacking the energy to do so, I’ll use my finger to clear his throat of spit and fluid so he can attempt to breathe clearly. When he stutters through half a breath, choking before he can fully fill his lungs, I’ll press my mouth over his and give him some of my own breath, feeling his chest rise and fall, his cheeks pillowing and throat shifting as I do so, bobbing as he nearly chokes over the force of my air going down his throat, pressing gentle kisses to his lips between each breath.

Eventually, he’ll stop breathing against me entirely, and I will hear him gurgling on his own spit until he is too weak to attempt another, and feel his ribs stopping shifting with the far too intense effort it took to pull even the smallest amount of air into his body, and his weak attempts at coughs as his lungs give out, jerking his chest against my own pitifully, his head pulling back ever so slightly until he goes entirely slack. My own heart will ache and my stomach will tingle with something eerily similar to arousal as his heart follows suit, flickering out from its already slow rhythm until there is nothing but a sharp ringing in the air. I’ll shift the hand currently holding his airway open, letting his head sag and his airway obstruct almost completely, to press my fingers deeply into his carotid, wanting to feel for myself that he is gone.

Before I can even process the fact that his heart has truly stopped, I will quickly scoop him up into my arms, his head falling off my shoulder and sagging helplessly, causing his neck to extend in an exposed fashion, before laying him out on the bed haphazardly, surrounded by the muffed-up blue hospital sheets and myriad of lines and wires and tubes that curl around him like some sort of all-consuming halo, letting his gown ride up and become disheveled, exposing his beautiful skin; the boney curves of his chest, the way his ribs stick out ever so slightly to protect his weak lungs and weaker heart, the soft flesh of his belly, the sharp edges of his collar bone.

I’ll press my fingers to each of his leads, making sure they’re firmly stuck down where they are littered over his chest, and rearrange the wires so they lay nicely against his form. As I let my eyes scan over his unmoving body, I’ll tighten the blood pressure cuff around his thigh, just to be safe. I’ll card my fingers through his hair and study his emotionless face, pressing kisses over his closed eyes and to the corners of his cold lips.

As I half heartedly pump his chest with one hand, I’ll attempt to shove my suction tube down his throat with the other, trying desperately to do the job of 2 people, maybe three people at once, or more so, the work his body should be doing but can’t. I’ll hear the satisfying crackle of fluid leaving his wet lungs, all while his head bobs with each compression, his body offering no other reaction to the bowing of his ribs or the tube down his throat. I’ll struggle at the angle, having to abandon his heart to focus on his lungs.

I want to watch his lips turn blue as I struggle to suction all the fluid from his throat and lungs, unable to truly get any air in his lungs, no matter how many times I pressed my lips to his and blew as hard as I could, only to feel my breath gargle in his lungs. I’d shift his head over and over until I decided to place and OPA, slipping the plastic tube down his throat, finally establishing an airway; I’d use it to place a suction tube down his airway, into his lungs, finally clearing enough fluid give his body what it so desperately needed. I’ll press my warm, pink, lips to his cold, gray-ish ones, finding them sickly moist, but finally feeling air move through the plastic tube and down into his lungs, lifting his chest in the process, the warm air coming back cool.

Once I can get his airway stabilized, I’ll go back to his chest, finding his once pale ivory skin now tinted gray. His delicate ribs bow beneath my hands almost too easily, his stomach bulging and his shoulders jumping with each compression. The sound of the gentle gasps of air that leave him, almost whistling past the OPA, as I break his chest and the quiet but still harsh beeping of the EKG as it warns me of his dropping stats and the effects of my compressions on his sick heart filling my ears.

I want to make use of all those ports, filling him with fluids and drugs, desperately hooking him up to whatever I can get my hands on, anything that could potentially bring him back to me. I’ll send adrenaline straight through his PICC line, fluids and vasopressors through his IVs, trying to stabilize his dying body or bring back even the most feeble of heart beats.

I’d have to keep breathing for him, stopping my compressions when my shoulders begin to burn more than I can power through, only to drape myself over him, fingers in his hair, as I press our mouths together, breathing into the OPA, air filling past the plastic tube. I’ll repeat the action over and over again, filling my lovers lungs with air, reveling in the smoothness the airway brings to our one-sided exchange of air, how the air whisps out of it with a gentle hiss, how steady it feels when I place my hand to his chest, feeling it fill his moist lungs.

I still have to pause to suction him over and over, to keep him from drowning on his own fluids, but something about the action, feeding the tube down his throat and working it through his lungs, hearing the crackle of fluid, and even when I go back to breathing for him, his chest rattles every now and again despite my best efforts. His lips grow colder and colder against mine as time passes, but as I breathe for him again and again, they momentarily match my warmth before I go back to compressions, our last exchange feeling almost like a kiss, but surely cool when I abandon them.

I’ll pull his gown even further down to expose his full chest, and the bruises I’ve left, so I can press AED pads to his skin, feeling his bones shift beneath me as I press them to his chest firmly. I’ll shock him and watch his chest seize, and his head throw back, exposing his pretty neck, and his hands clenched tightly at his sides. I’ll shock him over and over again, each time with higher and higher voltage, his reaction to the shocks becoming more violent each time. After each attempt I’ll lean over and kiss him, gently apologizing for what I’m doing to him, only to shock him again even harder. Somehow the shame is arousing, knowing I’m breaking him, hurting him, only out of desperation.

I’ll need him to come back, I’ll beg him throughout the compressions, as my hands begin to wander from his sternum, and straying just slightly to the left, directly over his heart, because I need it to beat, I need to pump it directly so it can find the strength to restart.

I want his name to fall off my tongue like a prayer, over and over and over again, until there is nothing left in my mind. I want my actions, and my devotions to be like prayer to him, my attention to every facet of his being, even then, when he is dead under my hands, to be like worship. I want to break him, hurt him, destroy him in my attempts to revive him; burning his skin with each shock, breaking his ribs, bruising his beautiful body.

His heart restart after I’ve shocked him more times than I can count, given him more air than I can even begin to imagine, and broken his chest in a desperate manner. It’ll be weak and slow, I’ll have to guide it with my hands, continuing shallow compressions, so it doesn’t flutter back out of existence, until I grow too tired to keep up any consitancy.

I’ll switch to pacing with the AED, struggling to get it to catch a rhythm at all, turning the dial up more and more, worrying that he’s too far gone, that even though his hearts attempting to beat at the moment, its given up its fight and wants only to fizzle out and be left alone (little does it know I won’t allow that). but once it does, I’ll find pleasure in watching his chest jolt with each small shock of the pacer. I'll turn the volts up, much like I did the defib, and push his heart to be strong. I want to hold his hand as he begins to dig his nails into his palms as he is struck with pain. I can’t even bring myself to give him something for the pain out of fear of risking his heart stopping once more, even though I know it's cruel and most likely selfish to do so. I love him, I can’t lose him, I’ll torture him if it’ll keep him alive, pleasures lulls through my being at the realization.

His breathing remains non-existent, so I’ll have to keep breathing for him, keep giving him these kisses of life, knowing my air is keeping him alive, is keeping his feeble heart beating and his sad little lungs alive. I’ll switch to an ambu bag when I can’t keep his saturation up any longer, and his body has gone a sick grayish palor, far past that blue shade, for me to keep using my recycled air, and when I do, I’ll fill his lungs to the brim each time, and relish in the return of color to his skin. It was selfish to deprive him of real oxygen for so long, but the feeling of knowing I held him in limbo for so long is intoxicating.

I’d spend hours keeping him alive, holding him in my arms, sterile hospital sheets wrapped around his form in an attempt to work some color back into his skin, my lips pressing to every inch of skin I can get to, kissing him ever so gently, willing him with sweet words to stay with me. I’d breathe for him, with the ambu bag until my wrists grew sore, and only then would I indulge my need to fill him with my own air, pressing my lips to his over and over again until his stats dropped, before going back to the bag, taking breaks every time he’d start to gurgle on fluid reaching his airway, to suction fluid from his lungs once more. Maybe he’d code a few times, maybe he’d gasp a few of his own breaths, or maybe he would just lay there, letting me help him, letting me keep him alive with no struggle or resistance.

But eventually he’d flutter into consciousness, looking frantically through his lashes, eyes blown wide and teary, whining as his chest spasms with each jolt of the pacer, and gagging on the airway still sitting in his throat. I’ll insist he keeps it in for me, because I need him to be safe for me, that he still can’t hold his own airway and his heart can’t maintain its own steady beat, and that it's for his own good. I’ll tell him I’m sorry, that everything hurts, that he has to suffer through the pain because I can’t risk his precious little heart.

I’ll watch as he struggle, hands haphazardly trying to pull the pads off his chest or pull out the air way, gently restraining him as the struggle begins throwing off his heart rhythm. I’d bind them to the side of the bed, holding one hand in my own, stroking his cheek with the other. I’d promise him that I was sorry, that he had to leave it, that he needed it, that is was for his own good, that it would all be over soon. I’d kiss away his tears as he struggled to remain conscious, finding trust in his tired puppy dog eyes.

I won’t allow him to breathe on his own, not unassisted, no, I’d sit behind him, leaning him against my chest, his head rested in the crook of my shoulder, aiding each and every breath with the ambu bag, oxygen turned up full flow, making sure his chest fills completely each time. His lungs are still weak and soggy, I still need to suction him every now and then, which is harder now that he’s conscious, but twice as pleasing, cutting off his air so that way he doesn’t continue to choke

treating him seems to be a lot like that, ebb and flow, doing harm in the moment to do good in the future, hurting him to keep him alive, torturing him because I love him, shame turning into pleasure

I’ll watch his eyes roll back as he loses grip on reality, lashes fluttering, alarms blaring, fluid crackling through the suction, something twisting in me in the most divine way. Once I’m finished I make sure to give him deep, almost too full breaths, rubbing his sternum until his eyes snap open, flashing to me in a panicked manner. I’ll kiss him and tell him everything is alright, that I’ve got him, that he’s safe with me, because he is, I’d shift the tides to keep him here with me. He’ll look up at me, still scared, confused even, and in pain, but all I’ll see is trust, trust that I’m protecting him, trust that I wouldn’t be hurting him if I didn’t have to, trust that I love him and thats why I’m doing this.

He’d submit himself to me, letting his eyes fall blankly around the room, his own breathing completely stopped, not because he can’t, but because he knows I’ll do it for him, his body going completely pliant against me so I can shift him and hold him and work him however I need without any problem.

In time his heart will strengthen, part of me is too worried to take him off the pacer, but I do slip him some morphine, and he finally slips into a blissful enough state to sleep. I’ll slip out from behind him, settling him up on the pillows gently, making sure his airway remains stable. I’ll decide to switch him to a breathing bag, so he can breathe on his own, but I’m still able to assist when needed, giving me an opportunity to let my mind stray.

I keep part of my mind locked on his body, the sound of his breathing, the way his chest moves as he inhales, the spasm caused by the pacer, the force it takes him to get air in, the palor of his skin; another on the monitor, what his vitals look like, if any alarms are going off; a third on the bag, watching him inhale, deflating the bag slightly before it refills with air. But the rest is focused on him, his pretty face, the bruises I’ve left all over him, on his chest, his jaw, even his lips are all red and swollen. His ribs are battered beyond belief, there are surely burns under the AED pads from how long they’ve sat on his body, his palms are bloodied from how tightly he’s clenched his hands tight, but something about all that is beautiful, all tragic like. It makes me want to just sit and stare, and to be frank, I do. I sit and I watch, hushing him when the morphine begins to wear off, squeezing the bag when he struggles to breath on his own, holding his hand still bound to the bed all throughout the night, savoring his beauty, almost like he’s now too fragile to touch.

In the morning, I’ll take the airway out and let him breathe on his own, feeling an odd disappointment in my relinquishment of control, almost shoving it back in when he chokes hard, coughing up fluid into his lap, his eyes panicked, but a few blows to the back and a rebreather mask takes the edge off and eventually he settles back into the pillows, where he’ll watch me dazily as I rub his chest, trying to get his breathing to fully settle until he falls back to sleep. His heart rate remains steady so I begin to wean him off the pacer, lowering the voltage bit by bit until I feel sure I can take them off. All the while, he doesn’t say a word, his throat is bruised from my efforts, but he watches me idly, like he wants to say something.

He’s still sick, there's still fluid in his lungs, and his hearts still weak, his output is low and his rhythm is bradycardic, but manageable with atropine, his saturation fluctuates, but upping his oxygen helps that too. He watches me float about his room, doting or while I’m working on him, listening to his heart and lungs with the stethoscope (hissing at his wet lungs once) more pushing meds, suctioning his lungs, cleaning around his ports. He even watches while I’m looking at the machines keeping him alive, listening as I babble to him mindlessly. He smiles, leans back, chest huffing lightly;

“I love you,” I barely hear him, his voice is quiet and broken, he coughs lightly between each syllable, but he says it. He looks at me like I’ve hung the stars (and his morphine), holding out his sickly looking hand, which I take immediately. “You saved me.”

He smiles, his perfect, soft, glowing smile, despite everything else happening to him, lightly squeezing my hand to the best of his ability, his head sinking into the pillow like it takes all his strength just to do so, and in reality, it easily could. But that doesn’t stop him from pulling my hand up to his chest, right over his heart, where it's thumping against his splinted ribs. I go to speak, to assure him that of course I did, but he pushes me with a gentle look.

“I’m here, cause of you, you saved me,” his words are floaty, like he’s not 100% there, but he looks at me, eyes wide, sure of himself, before pulling my hand up to his carotid, letting my fingers find his pulse, weak and slow, but there. “I’m still here, and I’m going to stay here, because I have you. and you won’t let me go.”

He wraps both of his IV ridden hands around my arm, his skin cool against mine, bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss my fingers. It was odd, feeling the boy he had just spent hours resuscitating and stabilizing, be the one to take care of him, even as minisculely as he was now, but touch was far from foreign, and the look in his eye was far too comforting not to lean into.

We would most certainly have to talk, really talk, about everything, but that could wait, right now, all I planned to do, was hold onto my boy, to feel him breathing, to hear his heart rate on the monitor, knowing I got him back, that all of it was worth it, cause he was here, and his still love me, despite the pain and the fear, the selfish choices made out of my own lust. It’d be fine. We’re fine.

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ghost-cherry-blossom · 26 days

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Appleblossom Head Canon 🌸🍎

War Wally Au by Spacebruulee

Goes by space.bruulee on TikTok and spacebruulee on

Twitter/X

“Well well well, if it isn’t Julie Joyful. The little angel who believed she could pull one over on me.” Obsidian orbs stared down the angel who continued to hold on to Wally’s arm as if it were a lifeline. Shaking in fear of the man that stood before them. “Did you really think after a few months of making him slip under my radar that I wouldn’t notice?” The miasma surrounding his form began to solidly into black tendrils, causing the War Horseman to be more on edge, prepared to attack as he continued to stand protectively in front of Julie. “You have meddled in affairs that do not concern you. This mortal’s time was meant to end, yet you dared to intervene. “

Wally’s actions did not go unnoticed by Death, an amused smile graced his lips as he glanced at the general then back to Julie. She felt her heart dropped to her stomach, it was foolish of her to believe she could get away with what she has done. However, she didn’t regret it. Letting go of Wally’s arm, she made her way to stand beside him. Despite her fear of Death, her eyes were filled with defiance and determination, “I may have meddled in the affairs that do not concern me, but I could not bear to see him fall. What is the use of having the powers to heal if I am unable to help those who need it the most?” Julie bit her bottom lip and stepped forward, “He is not just a mortal to me…I love Wally and I would do it again if it meant I would be able to spend time with him like this.”

Wally froze as he turned towards Julie, surprised by her confession, however a sense of warmth and joy filled his heart knowing that she felt the same way. Death’s hollow laughter echoes across the forest that surrounded them, sending a cold tremor down the angel’s spine. “Love,” he scoffed, his gaze piercing through Julie like a dagger. “Love is but a fleeting illusion, a pitiful and useless emotion that clouds judgement. Because of your so call ‘love’ you dare to defy the order of things, you have defied me. For that, there must be consequences.”

Wally widen his eyes, before he or Julie could react, the tendrils quickly shot out and coiled around the angel. Engulfing her in a tight cold embrace before she could have the chance to evade them. “Julie!” He called out and made an attempt to help her until he was forced to dodge the solidified miasma from capturing him in its grasps. Wally shot two bullets at Death, however, the bullets phase through, causing the spiritual entity to laugh once more.

“Leave her be!” he commanded, his voice echoing with the authority of a leader born amidst the chaos of war. “If anyone should face your wrath, let it be me because I refused for her to be punished for doing what she believe was the right thing. I love her, if it meant losing my life to keep her safe. I will do just that.”

Death regarded him with an empty gaze, weighing his words with a silence that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Not wanting Wally to sacrifice his life for her, Julie decided to do what she believes what was best. “Death, I will make a deal with you…I will make a deal.” She pleaded shakily.

Interested, Death created a bubble around them, not wanting to be interrupted by the War Horseman. Wally shot a couple of bullets hoping to create an opening, however, it wasn’t enough. “Julie! Julie!!” He banged his fists against the bubble as he felt the icy grip of dread clutch painfully onto his stomach.

To be continue….

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home wally #welcome home julie #wally darling #julie joyful #julie x wally #wally x julie #apple pie #apple blossom #wally au

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ellewritesandrants · 2 years

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Billy Calls 911 after being drugged AU

Basically, after the kids drugged him and left with his fucking car, Billy pretends to be asleep and staggers to the phone. He calls 911.

PART 2

Billy didn't know what the fuck was happening. The last thing he remembered was trying to find Max, getting mad and getting a needle in the neck from the person he was trying to help.

It didn't help that his head was pounding even worse than the time he tried cocaine and that he felt woozy, like he'd gotten hit in the head with a frying pan kind of woozy. He didn't know what to do because when he staggered to the door, his car wasn't there and his keys weren't in his pocket anymore.

He was basically stranded in a stranger's house, feeling like shit and he didn't have anyone he could turn to. He looked around, trying to see if he could find a lifeline in this mess and the phone mounted near the kitchen wall suddenly seemed like his salvation. When in doubt, call 911 because that's what his Mama had taught him.

_________________

It was just another regular night shift filling in for her pregnant co-worker for Samantha Collins when she got the call that changed her life.

“Hello 911. What’s your emergency?”

“My step-sister injected me with an unknown drug and left, taking my car with her. I feel funny. My heart’s poundin’ like crazy.”

She jolted awake. Well, that was certainly a first. What the fuck was happening here?

“Sir, what’s your name and location?”

“My name’s William Hargrove but I go by Billy, I’m 17 and I’m in Hawkins, Indiana at I think the Byer’s place, a bit past the main road.”

Fuck, he was just a kid but Sam couldn't dwell on that. She had a name and a general location. Sam could work with that. It didn't take too long since she recently had a call from Hawkins a few weeks ago and she had the information for the hospital and the sherriff's station already stored.

“I’ve contacted the local hospital and authorities. Help is on the way but I need you to stay on the line for me, okay?”

She heard a thud in the background, like a hand catching on the wall and she prayed that the ambulance hurried up.

“M’kay. What should I do though?” He slurred.

“I just need you to talk, Billy. Can you do that?” Sam implored.

She had no way of knowing what drugs were injected into the poor kid. She didn't know what effect it had and how long it would take to have an effect but all she could do was stall for time, time that this young kid might not have.

“Sure! Oh! Could you help me find my mama?”

Fuck, of course he would be missing his mom if his step-sister was the one who injected him with fucking unknown drugs. Still, it was a starting point and Sam would hold onto it with dear life because it just might save this young man's life.

“Yes, yes, sure. Just tell me about her.”

“M’Kay. She left when I was 8 since my dad kept hittin' her but she forgot me so he started hittin' me instead. She loved the beach though. You know, one time, I managed to ride a 9 foot wave!”

Her heart broke for this kid. He was only 17, not even old enough to drink and he's already been put through so much by his family. Weirdly enough though, even if his mom left him, he still loved her and it seemed like he'd had a lot of good times with her.

Thankfully, there was some good news on her end. The ambulance had just left the hospital and it would only be another 10 minutes until they arrived. She only had to keep him lucid for 10 more minutes in the hopes of making sure he survived. Even if his speech was starting to slur and be slowed, as long as he was captivated by the conversation, she would take it.

“That’s so cool! What else can you tell me about your mom?’

“Well her maiden name was Elizabeth Williams n' she has blond hair n' blue eyes like me. She used to work as an author 'fore Neil forced her to stop work so she could take care o’ me. I tried to find books she wrote but I don’t think she uses her real name fer ‘em.”

Sam hurriedly wrote down everything Billy said about his mom. That's information she can use to track down the no-good, child abandoning mother who needed to know what her son had gone through with her gone.

“That’s good! What else can you tell me?”

“Oh! She loved seashells n' sunsets. She loved any excuse to get out o' the house n' the beach used to just be a 10-minute walk from our house but here in Hawkins, there’s only a shitty local pool n' a lake.”

So he wasn't from Hawkins? That just made finding his mom a lot more difficult but Sam wasn't raised to be a quitter.

“Where were you from then?”

“Oh, we lived in San Diego, California 'til my mom left. After she left, dad took me to stay wit' my grandparents down in Denver while he moved our stuff to a new house. We moved to Lenora Hill back in California after a year. Then, we moved to shitty Hawkins a few months ago when my shitty stepsister tattled on me to Neil n' got me beat so badly I was in the hospital fer two weeks.”

That might explain why the mom wasn't able to get back in the picture but it would help a lot in helping Sam figure out where Billy's mom was. She tried and failed to ignore the casual mention of child abuse to the point of hospitalization because that would do nothing to help Billy right now. Sam had to keep the conversation going in a different direction even though she wanted to ask how often Billy was beat that it wasn't even an issue for him but rather a simple fact of life.

She did make sure to tell the hospital staff though and the emergency response team about the new findings. It seemed his entire family would have to have been kept away so that Billy could actually be given a chance to recover.

“Do you miss California?”

“Oh, yeah! I was good at surfin' n' I was a lifeguard which got me enough money to buy a car n' fix 'er up. My friends are also there n' I miss being around people I can trust. I don’t have anyone to run to here in Hawkins. My friends n' their families used to love havin' me over so I could get away when I needed to.”

Fuck, that just hurts even worse. To find out that the kid had an actual support system where he used to be only to be dragged into the middle of nowhere only makes Sam hate his family more. God, some people just really deserved to burn in hell.

“That’s sad! Don’t you like Hawkins?”

“What’s there to like about shitty Hawkins? The place literally smells like cow shit, there’s no water, my stepsister’s a little shit who’s running around wit' boys she used to hate n' the boy I like doesn’t like me. Oh no, no, no, no!”

Fuck, did she do something wrong? Shit!

“What’s wrong, Billy?”

Sam held her breath, waiting for a response. She heard the sound of muffled sniffles from the other side and it only punched it into her gut that she was dealing with an abused kid who also just happened to have been drugged out of his mind. If she was there, she would have pulled him into a hug already.

“You won’t help me anymore since you know I’m queer. Dad always said that queer people are disgusting and that no one wants to help a queer.”

Fuck, was that it? Sure, it wasn't ideal but Sam was uniquely equipped to handle this situation. This was one of the things she was sure she could diffuse even if it meant outing herself to a complete stranger. If it meant giving this kid a little bit of comfort which was something that seemed to be sorely lacking in his life, she'd happily do it.

“Your dad was wrong, Billy. Can I tell you something? I’m queer too. I like boys and girls.”

“Really?” Billy sniffled.

Sam could hear tears being wiped and a nose being blown but she was glad for it because it meant he was still alive and somewhat lucid.

“Yes, really.”

“And no one hates you for it?”

That was a tricky question because of course, there were people who hated her for it. Her own mother had disowned her when she had come out to her family but her siblings and her friends had stood by her side and they had helped her move on and live freely.

“Well some do but the people who hate me for it don’t matter. All the people I need in my life know and accept me as I am.”

“I wonder how that feels like.” Billy said, wistfully.

Fuck the rules and damn the consequences. She would do everything in her power to help this kid because God knows he needs someone to.

“You won’t have to wonder, okay, Billy? I’m here to help you.”

“But I don’t even know your name!” He protested.

Sam chuckled. If all it took was a name to get Billy to accept her help, she would gladly give it.

“I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Billy.”

She could imagine the kid holding out a hand to be shaken in front of the phone and she had to stifle a laugh. A quick look at the time told her that the ambulance should be in hearing distance from him so she needed to confirm.

“I know. Okay, Billy the ambulance should be close. Can you hear the sirens?”

“Yeah. It’s getting louder and I don’t like the noise. I want it to stop.” He whined.

“It means that help is on the way, okay? It’s good noise.” Sam placated.

“I just want to sleep.”

Fuck, this was what she was trying to prevent. She needed him lucid when they got to him because they don't know what drug or drugs may have been injected into him. She knew it must've been exceedingly difficult for Billy to keep talking and to keep going but all she needed was just a little bit more time.

“No, Billy. You have to stay awake okay? Just a little bit more and you’ll be able to rest. They already know what happened and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Okay, Sam. Are you still going to help me find my mom?”

This kid really didn't let up about his mom. Sam would just have to start looking for her as soon as her shift was over.

“Absolutely. As soon as you get help, I’ll start searching for her and I won’t stop until I find her.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“You’re welcome, Billy.”

Sam heard the door be bust open and she disconnected the call as soon as he was being loaded. One of the EMTs updated her to tell her that they’ve got the situation handled.

Sam took a deep breath before she went out to take her break. Thankfully, her best friend Amy saw her leave, a little bit more shaken than usual so she joined her outside for a smoke break. Sam had already lit her cigarette and was already taking a few deep drags so Amy just pulled out her own, taking a few drags herself before she got the ball rolling.

"What's going on, Sam?"

"The last call I had was so hard, Amy. He was just a kid, only 17 and he was apparently injected with unknown drugs by his step-sister before he had his car stolen. His dad beats him on what seems to be a regular basis and his mom left him. To top it off, he basically said he was a queer and that his dad's a homophobic piece of shit."

Amy almost dropped her cigarette in shock.

"Fuck."

Sam took a long pull from her cigarette before responding.

"I know. That's how I felt."

"How'd it go?"

"Thankfully, I kept him lucid until the EMTs got there by letting him tell me about his mom whom he asked me to find."

"Are you going to look for her?"

"You know me, Amy. Of course I am. I thought I had a shitty family situation but damn, this kid takes the cake. If there's any chance that this kid's mom might actually care, I'm going to take it because that kid needs someone in his corner."

"Good luck, girlie. You're going to need it."

"Thanks but something tells me that I won't need it. After all, I made a promise to that kid and I don't break my promises."

If you liked this, I have the next part partially written out so I might be able to be motivated to work on it after.

#billy hargrove #billy deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better #ellewritesandrants #billy hargrove au #billy hargrove redemption #stranger things rewrite #911 call #stranger things s2 #tw child abuse #tw drugs

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starlessskies94 · 7 months

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Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: JoelMiller x OC

Note: I apologize it's been a while since my last chapter, but we're back at it now. Hope you enjoy this latest chapter. I was a little unsure of it. Also, I have two chapters in mind that are next to come but I wanna let you guys decide which you want first…do we want to check in with Ellie and Dina first or our boy Joel?? Let me know!

Chapter Twenty-One

Ada’s heart drummed in her chest as she watched the girls run for it. She prays they make it somewhere safe before she's pulled back to reality by Tommy's booming voice.

“There’s too many of em’! He yells over the chaos; they keep coming in force, screeching and screaming at them as they charge. Hands twisted into claws, lash out at them. They’ve run out of ammo, and they’re left with only the melee of blunt objects found in a scramble to survive. Tommy swings the plank of wood in his hands, stomping savagely at the skulls of those that fall upon impact. All the while Ada flails with a blunt axe; long beyond repair. She doubts it’s strong enough to cut through wood let alone bone, but she fights back regardless as it’s all she has left.

The horde grows both in size and aggression; until eventually there’s just too many of them to put down. Ada is tired and her arms burn from overexertion; she flinches as a hand grabs her upper arm and pulls her harshly to the side. It takes a moment to register that it’s Tommy.

“You go! I’ll hold 'em off as long as I can to buy you some time!” He pants; his exhaustion beginning to take over. But Ada is quick to snatch her arm away from his grasp. “Not a chance in hell I’m leaving you here alone!” She doesn’t miss the flash of panic in his eyes as he lashes out against a clicker stumbling towards them. The sound is overwhelming, the squeals and heartwrenching shrieks, enough to make the ears bleed as the horde never ceases. They’re running out of time and energy. They need to move soon and as their eyes meet, they know there’s only one option they have left if there's any chance of them surviving.

Run…

Without a second of hesitation, they bolt, holding onto one another’s hand like it's a lifeline as they take off. The horde is quick to follow, the runners picking up their pace and charging up behind them. The clickers follow suit as they are spurred on by the sound of stomping footsteps. The two run as far as they can. Their legs burn and the adrenaline floods their blood, every muscle cries for them to stop but they resist, pushing through the pain. Blood runs cold when the ground shakes and they hear an all too familiar roar echo no more than a few metres behind them. A bloater. A cloud of spores is hurled towards them; landing far too close for comfort. It hits a few runners in its path but the monster pays no mind to injuring his own. His only goal is to destroy those who disturbed his slumber. It chargers as the sidewalk crumbles underfoot; arms reaching out to claim his prey but Tommy is quick to pull Ada towards him as the bloater falters past, missing his target. They make their way around the exterior of the QZ walls; Ada’s eyes catching sight of a guard tower high up by the top of the wall. With a tip of her head, Tommy’s with her in a second as they veer their course towards their safe haven. They find a second wind to push through, urging their tired feet to pick up their pace. Finally reaching the ladder leading to the walkway; the younger Miller gives his sister-in-law a boost up onto the broken ladder before she reaches down to help him up beside her. Tommy wastes no time in kicking away what remains of the ladder then turns to join Ada. They both make their way across the walkway and into what remains of the guard tower.

It's cramped, no bigger than a small shack. Pieced together from an old shipping container turner on its side. The tin roof is rusted and dented, and bullet holes pierce the thin walls. No doubt a result of the uprising overpowering the Fedra guards once posted here. Long ago looted and abandoned. Any electricity that once powered the lights and radio had clearly burned out over at least a decade ago. The two peer out of the small window below at the horde gathered underneath them. Evidently confused as to how their prey managed to escape them. But neither care. They are safe and that’s all that matters. They both take a seat on the floor; taking the time to rest and reaccess their situation.

“That was too fucking close.” Tommy rasped, running callous hands across his tired face. “Whattda we do now?” The air was thick and heavy as she asked the question. The echos of infected still present not far below them. The older man huffs out a heavy sigh before answering. “Not much we can do until this horde decides to move on, best guest would be to wait it out and move after sundown when it’s quiet. We can make our way into the QZ then and try to find the girls.” He suggested. Ada didn’t like the idea of waiting that long to find Ellie and Dina but knew logically that Tommy was right as she nodded solemnly in agreement. She leads her head back against the wall and takes a moment to breathe, her exhaustion hitting her in force like a train crashing upon full impact. Her eyes feel heavy but her attention is pulled back towards her brother-in-law. She notices he’s fidgeting with his empty gun. Keeping his hands busy by pulling apart the pistol and putting it back together; she knows there's no purpose behind the action as they’re both well aware they’ve no bullets left to load. He’s got something playing on his mind, but from their many arguments and spats; she’s a little reluctant to ask. She notices after a moment or two that his clothes are stained with blood. Some his own, though most of it belonged to infected he’d put down. His forehead is bleeding from a deep gash; that has begun seeping into his brow.

She slips off her backpack and takes out her first aid kit, sheepishly leaning towards him with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a clean rag to clean it. He looks at her puzzled until she gestures towards his head. “You got a cut across your forehead.” She explains to his silent question.

He nods in gratitude then focuses on dabbing some of the liquid onto the rag before pressing it to his forehead; wincing slightly as the solution stings against his wound. “Thanks.” He utters before the heavy silence settles back between them. She watches silently; he finishes cleaning his wound, placing the soiled rag down by his feet. Neither speak or move. Both are tired and she can feel her mind racing with thoughts, worries for Ellie and Dina. Fear and dread if the infected take too long to leave them be. After an hour had passed Ada and Tommy still hadn’t spoken.

The younger Miller was getting antsy as he leaned over the window ledge to check if the coast was clear yet. Only to then slump back down in a frustrated huff which clearly tells her it wasn’t. He leans his head back against the wall; more sighs leave him as his patience wears thin. She lets the tiredness overtake her as she closes her eyes and starts to doze only to start awake when Tommy’s voice finally breaks the quiet.

“Look Ada I’m sorry. I know these past few weeks I ain’t exactly been easy to be around.” He says without looking at her. Eyes still aimed towards the ceiling. She snorts a bitter laugh at his words.

“That’s one way of putting it I suppose.” she bites back.

“Yeah okay, I was an ass.” he admits reluctantly. She scoffs with a smirk, leaning back with crossed arms.

“And argumentative, petty, annoying, not to mention childish…” she’s risen to her feet, pacing as she continued to her list. Tommy’s not far behind, jumping to his and stomping into the middle of the small room, intentionally blocking her path which only irks her further. “Alright, you’ve made your point. I know there’s no excuse but I’m worried about finding Joel-”

“And I’m not?!” She growls in return.

“No that’s not what I mean. The truth… is all of this is my fault, Joel’s injury, the attack. It's my fault.”

That stops her dead. Her words stuck in her throat as her eyes widened at him. Brows creased in confusion.

“What? How do you figure that??” Tommy doesn’t answer straight away. He turns away from her. Almost afraid to say the words out loud. She notices his shoulders tense; a hand running through his hair and a heavy sigh deflating his whole frame that seems to sag in sadness.

“I changed the patrol. Joel wasn’t even supposed to be heading out until later that day but I pushed and made him go. He even mentioned that you weren’t happy about it. I should’ve told him right then and there to turn his ass around to go home.”

She sniffs and sighs as a heaviness is released from her chest. She looks him in the eye as she contemplates her words. Knowing that she needs Tommy to hear her when she speaks.

“Tommy…” She utters to grab his attention, he’s staring at his feet as his guilt evidently weighs him down. “That’s ridiculous. You didn’t know what was going to happen. You know as much as I do that you’re never safe out here. No one can ever guarantee that they’ll make it home. That's just the world we live in. That's the reality of it.”

He shakes his head in defiance. “But I was too trusting Ada. Sure we were overrun with a horde and there was a storm coming in but following that woman…going in blind like that; it was stupid and reckless. Joel and I should have known better. We do know better. He knew better and I told him to relax and stop worrying so much. We’ve helped people like that in the past and it was never a problem.” His lips snarl and his nostrils flare as his voice drops. Anger simmering as he thinks back. “But those fuckers…” he hisses, his voice laced with hatred. “I could feel it in the air the second we walked in the damn place and I hesitated and it nearly got my brother killed. I should’ve listened to him. I should've listened to my big brother and I didn’t. If we can’t find him or we do and he’s dead or…worst…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for it.”

He pulls away when she tries to comfort him, snatching his arm away before she can reassure him. Tommy sniffs harshly as he clears his throat, his arm reaching up to wipe at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. It’s only then that Ada realised; this was the first time she’d ever seen Tommy cry in all the years she’d known him. She’d always known he was slightly softer than Joel or perhaps Joel had just been better at hiding it than Tommy. During those years living in Jackson; it’d given the two time to mend their broken relationship. In the end, it’d made them closer than ever; even more so than they’d been as kids. They each had their brother's back and she knew both men valued family above all else. She nudges him gently to get his attention.

He wipes his eyes; leaving them red and bloodshot. Ada’s heart aches for him.

“Tommy listen to me; no one is to blame okay? I don’t care how we got here, the only thing that matters is finding and bringing him home.”

“But he left because of the shit I said. Maria was right, I shouldn’t have told him like that.”

Ada shrugs and smiles in spite of herself, giving him a reaffirmed pat on the arm.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I mean all this, everything that's happened…” she gestured wildly as Tommy smirked sadly at her chaos.

“It’s all just a big fucking mess.” She finally decides as Tommy barks a laugh at her words. “Well, you ain’t wrong.” She smiles widely at him, nodding finally satisfied.

“But it’s all gonna be fine. I have to keep telling myself that because I won’t accept anything else. So you can wallow or you can join me in my hard-headed denial.”

Tommy stands with hands rested on his hips as he pretends to think it over. Damn this woman and her stubbornness. Even now he can still see why she and Joel ended up together. And if there were anyone more determined to get their man back; he was sure in hell they’d never known Ada Miller. He smiles with regained determination in his eyes “Alright sis, I’m with ya. Grab your shit and let's find the girls.”

#joel miller #the last of us #starlessskies writes #joel and ellie #Joel Miller #Joel x oc #ellie williams #the last of us part 2 #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game

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kalena-henden · 7 months

Text

Taemin's whole life he's been pushed to be the company's next leader with little time to think of anything else because of how busy he was with work. Living with his family allowed for constant reinforcement of those self-sacrificing expectations at home as well. His year in jail gave Taemin a reprieve from both his work and his family. That's alot of time off to reflect on his life and what he wants out of it. One of the things he kept coming back to as he worked out in jail daily is how much he enjoyed training with Hyoshim and missed spending time with her. I'm sure this is what led to him to start looking at her in a romantic light. Which in and of itself is a natural thing.

When Taemin first calls Hyoshim after he's released, she is relieved and happy to hear from him again. She seemed to like him as a person and client. However, when he wants to start spending personal time with her, she begins to show signs of discomfort. This is the disconnect. During her year away from him, Hyoshim worried about Taemin as a person but this did not lead to any romantic awaking on her end. After a few times hanging out with him out of obligation, she only felt increasingly aware of the divide between them. Taemin feels at ease with her in a way he doesn't with his colleagues or even family. You can see it in the way he interacts with her and why he's trying to share about his life with her. Unfortunately for Taemin, Hyoshim doesn't feel the same. A handsome, wealthy man paying attention to her isn't giving her dreams of becoming his Cinderella. His notice feels like a burden she wants to escape. Each interaction keeps confirming that she doesn't want a romantic relationship with him.

The problem is that Taemin has given up his autonomy in every area of his life out of filial duty, exactly like Hyoshim. He's been unable to break free, but holding onto Hyoshim feels like a lifeline. He's about to hit his boiling point. If he lets go of the idea of a romantic relationship with her, I think he actually might break because there is no valve to release the pressure building up in his life. It's why he refuses to give up on her even though he knows she's not interested. He's grasping at his last shred of hope for happiness.

What Taemin doesn't realize is Hyoshim is not the right person for him because she is repeating his mistakes in her own life. They both need someone who will give them the encouragement and support to stand up to their superiors at work and families at home to take control of their own lives. This is the only way for both of them to truly find happiness.

Taeho appears to be the right person for Hyoshim. They challenge each other, making them consider things from a new perspective. Until recently, they've done this in a combative way but moving forward I see them doing this in a more respectful way. This brutal honesty has naturally led to an ease and comfort between them that will pave the way for their romance.

While it's a little early, it appears that the reporter is a good match for Taemin. Their interactions have also been combative and brutally honest. They don't hesitate to speak their minds to each other. Her family business is powerful enough to help him wield that power to help sway his company's board members. Also, she would be no pushover for Taemin's mom to control. Instead, she would flick his mom away like the annoying bug she is, giving Taemin the freedom to do as he pleases. Right now he's bristling at her advances, the way Hyoshim is bristling at his. The looming question is will he see the light before it's too late? Before he does, I think he's going to lash out in the wrong ways that will hurt rather than help him.

#kbs live your own life #live your own life #kdrama #kalenapost #kalenameta #this is my response to an mdl comment #and i thought i'd post it here too #i didn't realize i had this many thoughts on it #lol #anyway i'm really liking the romance between hyoshim and taeho

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brighteststar707 · 2 years

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First kisses with Jihyun!

The game didn't let us get one I'd LOVE to see how you think it would have happened 😍🥰❤😍😍

Secret-hearts~Maya🥰

Maya! Thank you for this request!

To be honest, I’ve never rewritten something so many times before. I’ve been trying to find the angle I want to write from since you sent in this ask. I have a lot of feelings about V and his route in general and I wanted to execute this prompt properly without going on a tangent (that’s for a potential fic hehe).

All that being said, here it is! I hope you enjoy <3

Jihyun - First Kisses

You were so sure that reuniting with Jihyun would be easy. He would return, sweep you off your feet, and you’d fit together again like you did before he left. Everything that you had been struggling with since his departure wouldn’t matter anymore.

It was ridiculous. You knew it. However, your fantasy persevered. When he returns became a recurring mantra in your mind.

I just need to hang on until he returns.

Everyone will worry less when he returns.

Late at night, when you’re plagued by the persistent sense of dread that has become your new normal, you hold on to it like a lifeline.

When he returns, it will be easier.

Always when, never if. If was something you didn’t dare think.

***

He shows up when you least expect him to. In the middle of a party, like a bright blue wildflower popping up between the ornate tiles under your feet.

The sight of him sends an involuntary shock through your body. You stare, willing your eyes to make sense of the figure standing in front of you. Beautiful, with newly styled hair and tanned skin. Healthy. Happy. So happy.

The RFA members surround you, with expressions varying from pained to relieved. Standing amongst them, his smile is dissonant. A bright light amongst the dimmed shades.

You contort your face into what you hope resembles a smile. His mouth is moving, but you can’t keep up. The hall has always made sounds echo more than usual but now, it seems like it’s all your brain can focus on.

You just keep staring at his face, waiting for everything to make sense. Waiting for the ache in your chest to die down, for your brain to catch up. He’s back he’s back.

Then why does everything still hurt?

Somehow, you end up together in the gardens, away from the echoing mess of the hall. He presses a glass of water into your hand, and you notice the warmth of his fingers against yours. He says your name and it tugs at something in your memory.

When he says your name, it sounds like secret phone calls and hushed bedside conversations. Like echoing hallways and great escapes. Things you are familiar with. He is still your V. You whisper his name under your breath like a reminder.

Jihyun, he corrects. Oh.

For a little while, you stand in silence. There’s too much you want to say, but you don’t think you can say anything at all. Not without falling to pieces right here in front of him. Conversation with him used to be as easy as breathing. He knew your mind, and you thought you knew his.

You must have zoned out, because he reaches for your free hand to try and catch your attention. He calls your name again. You take a sip of your water and try to pull yourself back to reality.

Slowly, you manage to focus your eyes on him. Out in the gardens, he looks more real. More human, less burning light. His expression has simmered down to a soft, tentative smile. His eyes glitter in the flickering garden light.

“You’re back,” you say dully. “Really back.”

“I am.” If he’s annoyed by your redundant statement, he doesn’t let on. He keeps his eyes intently focused on you, trying to catch the slightest change in your expression.

A noise escapes your throat, one that sounds like it’s somewhere between a sob and a scoff.

“I missed you.” Your voice cracks.

This isn’t easy.

That’s the realization that knocks down the last of your strength. You cannot be brave anymore.

Tears spill onto your cheeks, and you make no effort to stop them. He shifts closer to you so he can cup your face in his hands and swipe away your tears with his thumbs. The tenderness of the gesture only makes you cry harder. You are so angry, you are so in love. How can these things coexist?

“I missed a lot while I was gone, didn’t I?” His voice is impossibly soft.

All you can do is nod.

He opens his arms to you, and you step in and hug him. You’re reminded of the day he left, of him pulling you into a hug like this and whispering apologies and promises into your hairline. His scent is still the same. You close your eyes and breathe him in, trying to slow your breathing.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Soon.”

He presses his lips to your forehead. “I’ll wait.”

You’re not sure how long you stand like that for, only that everything slowly starts to feel less overwhelming. You slip out of his arms after a while and lead him to a bench, where you sit and try to talk to him. You tell him about the members and, with some hesitation, about yourself too. The struggles you’ve faced, the scars that are still unhealed.

It’s difficult. You have to stop and start over a few times to get everything in order. You cry some more. He doesn’t interrupt, he only watches you attentively, holding your hand. It’s a reassuring presence, a promise that he’s really here with you.

When you finish, he takes a slow breath. “You did such a good job, holding everyone together. I’m so sorry for leaving you with it all... I missed you more than I can ever say, and I plan to spend the rest of our time together trying to make everything up to you.”

In that moment, it’s like a fog lifts. You see him properly, your beautiful Jihyun, with his earnest eyes and steady hands. His words heal a part of you that you didn’t even know was hurting. It doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it all feel more manageable.

You raise your hand to gently brush his cheek and you feel him lean into your touch. You lean forward a bit and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

He chuckles and pulls you closer to kiss you again. It’s tearful and soft and new. Everything doesn’t feel the same as it did before, but you’re starting to realize that you don’t mind.

It was never going to be easy. Of course, a part of you always knew that.

#Writing this just accelerated my plans for my first multi chapter fic oop #I've never been so torn on how to approach a fic #the amount of times i tried to make this simple and fluffy and just... failed #kissing the RFA #anon #maya <3 #mystic messenger #mystic messenger V #mystic messenger jihyun #mysme jihyun #mysme V #jihyun kim #my writing

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savvythepirate · 2 years

Text

Last Breath

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader

Warnings: None

Requested by: anonymous

A/N: A request for numbers 47 & 50 from my prompt list with Davy Jones! Thank you to the anon for this request! I hope you like it and that it was what you were looking for!

***

Ever since that day when Davy Jones believed he had lost you to the seas, he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you.

Not only was it because he was afraid taking any chances of losing you, it was also because you haven’t seemed to be yourself lately. Davy Jones was the most well known, yet most feared being to have lived. Everyone had the same fear, everyone except for you. The first encounter you had with Davy Jones would say otherwise. But as time went on, you saw a different side of him that no one else was bound to ever see for themselves.

How you had come about the Dutchman was quite a story to tell. You were a dear friend of Jack Sparrow and when Will Turner had chosen to take on the path of sneaking onboard the Dutchman, you volunteered to follow behind. Both men protested against your will at first, but seeing how much you had insisted and giving them all the reasons why you should go, they knew there was no point in arguing anymore. It wasn’t until you battled through the rough sea did you realize the kind of danger you were putting yourself up against, but you didn’t let the thought change your mind about going and pressed forward. You remained on the Dutchman after you and Bootstrap helping Will to escape with the key, hoping that would put some peace between Davy Jones and your friends.

But it didn’t turn out that way at all, in fact, it only seemed to have make things worse. You still took everything you got within your power to keep Davy Jones happy, and when nothing seemed to be working, you were about to give up completely and mark this as a hard case when something unexpectedly occurred. It took place on a dark cold night, as the ocean’s weather had again turned untamed. It was a little frightening to you, as you weren’t much of a swimmer. All you could do if in the water was to hold yourself up just long enough to find something to hold on to, in order to keep your head above the waters. With each impact that rocked the ship, it made it difficult for you to keep balance as you look to take cover. You find yourself holding onto some rope as your life pretty much depended on it, the rope becoming your lifeline.

Everything seemed to be fine and working order at first, until the ship was hit hard by another wave once again. This time, the impact making your hands slip from the rope as your body tumbled down before getting tossed from either side of the ship. What came next, was your nightmare come true as you feel yourself being thrown into the unforgiving waters, making you fear the worst case scenario to happen. It was nearly impossible for you to grab onto something in order to help yourself when things are in such a horrific like condition. You couldn’t help but let yourself begin to panic, thinking this was where you were going to take your last breath, where your story ends. But just as you’ve come to accept your fate, you feel yourself being embraced in the arms of someone unknown to you, as you were then being pulled back to the safety of the Dutchman.

As that close call was still fresh in mind, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed about it, and it certainly didn’t help when the topic was brought up by seemingly everybody among the Dutchman, everyone except Davy Jones. Not only were you kept being reminded of it, teased about it, you were being put down by some of the crew because of it. They were often rude and bitter, calling it a weak performance, thinking you were supposedly one of them when in reality, they didn’t know that you haven’t sworn yourself to the Dutchman. A lot of the trash talk from them would be on about how you don’t belong there or that if anyone were to be thrown off, that it should be you. You try to ignore as much as possible, but it was getting difficult each time it came up.

Because of what was being said, and because of Davy having seemed to be fond of you, you knew it would be easy for him to know of your emotions and that something was up, you tried to act like nothing was happening or bothering you, wanting to avoid him getting suspicious of what you weren’t telling him. The act you were putting seemed to work in the time being, however, without even realizing it yourself, you began to keep yourself isolated from everyone. This is where the suspicion rises within Davy Jones, as he begins to often find you either in the cabin or finding you leaning over the side of the ship, watching the sunset over the now calm waters. As for the moment, Bootstrap seemed to be the only one to have not criticize you about what happened. In fact, he seemed to be watching out for you, just not as much as Davy. You didn’t know it, but the one who pulled you out of trouble that night was Bootstrap, taking orders from Davy to safely bring you back to him.

As Davy was now examining you as your back faces him as you watch the sun setting, he continues to wonder what it was that is making you more quiet and distant lately. His own thoughts were interrupted by Bootstrap, making it well known to him that he’s been caught numerous times having his eye on you while trying to keep up on following you around most of the day every day when he believes that no one couldn’t have noticed.

“Just because you’re worried about her doesn’t mean you have to be creepy and follow her around all day, you know.”

Davy doesn’t reply, making it obvious he wasn’t interested in starting a conversation like this with him or anyone else. Despite Davy’s warning sign of not pushing him any further with statements, he chooses to do exactly that anyway.

“If you’re really that worried about her, go talk to her. That would make it easy on the both of you, you know.”

“Do you have any idea of what’s going on with her?” Davy growls.

“Only a small portion of it, but I’m going to leave it up to you to find out. Go talk to her, before she disappears again.”

With that being said, Davy almost reluctantly moves forward to approach you, leaving Bootstrap to walk away. Before full on approaching you, an unpleasant thought comes across his mind, and that would be him thinking back to something he did or said to you had caused you to feel the need to isolate yourself. When it comes to apologies coming from him, it’s easier for him to use actions rather then words. He doesn’t recall on ever making an apology to anyone, he never feels the need to, but when it comes to you, it’s you who makes the difference. As you were feeling overwhelmed by your own thoughts, it prevented you from taking note of Davy’s sudden presence.

“I thought I’d find you here.” He says, just slightly startling you.

“Oh, yeah. This is my favorite spot to watch the sunset.”

It soon turns silent.

But as you continue to watch the now orange sky turn into nightfall, you couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable as Davy examines your body language, which suggests to him that you were still bothered by something, that something was troubling you. The silence breaks as Davy begins asking you questions you didn’t feel like answering.

“Are you doing okay?”

“How do you mean?” You ask, taken back by surprise from his first question.

“Well, we don’t get to see you as much as we used to. You seem to be isolating yourself from the world, or at least trying to.”

“Oh.. that. Well, nothing much. Honest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I just haven’t been sleeping well the past couple nights. I’ve just been catching up on some rest is all.”

There was no doubt that he knew you weren’t being honest, unconvinced is what the look on his face said to you.

He knew it, you knew it. The both of you knew it.

“You’re lying through your teeth, (Y/n). You and I both know it.”

“No-“

“Don’t deny it. If you deny again, I will know. Now, what else is it you’re not telling me?”

This was the side of him you wished to see more often, the side of him that cares for you. As you run it through your mind, you know that he’s right and that even as much as you didn’t want to, you know that you needed to tell him what was going on.

As you begin to tell him, you find it easier for you to do so in detail if you didn’t look directly at him. You were able to rush through without leaving out any detail, and by the time you finished, it was abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to take things too kindly. After he felt that his composure was stable enough, he asked you for names before muttering he would be back. Knowing what he was seeking out to do, you remained where you are and wait for his return. As you waited, you strangely had strangely felt lonely with having him there with you. He kept the thought to himself, but he hated to leave you there by yourself, even though it was for a short time.

When he returned, you didn’t have to ask where he’d been as you already know the answer to that. So instead, you gracefully wrap your arms around him, greeting him with a hug. As one could guess, he’s never really experienced being hugged before as you feel him stiffen before he slowly wrapped his arms around you, returning the hug. It was a nice feeling, and from then on, you’ve started to enjoy having to be in his company.

Just as he does in yours.

***

Requests: OPEN

@savvythepirate

NOTE: Feel free to send feedback, feedback is greatly appreciated!

The next post will be a Jack Sparrow inspired request I’ve received!

Feel free to send in a request or two!!!

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