#can’t heal. and I love him for that. I love him for emerging from pain as a angry sharp thing. I love that it brings the glimpses of him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swifty-fox · 1 month

Text

What Comes After

blacked out. wrote 1.7k fic for @bcolfanfic's Young vets AU.

Fanfic/Sequel of

Tw for aftermath of a suicide attempt and all that may entail

Nobody tells you what to do in the hours after your husband tries to take his life. Nobody says you’re going to be angry.

Nobody tells Gale how much he’ll have to pay for gas to the only Hospital for miles, seven hours tailing the red ominous lights of an ambulance there seven hours back all alone for the first time in a long while (one-hundred-twenty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents).

There’s nobody to tell him how to smile at his husband as he’s led away in a stunned daze. Does he smile at all? Small and painful and fake?

And who can he ask what to do as he comes home to a now empty home, dawn well past finished and a hole the size of a man's life in the wall. A hole, no bigger than a nickel and just perfectly at eye level. The difference between a happy ending and a tragedy; the scales tipped kindly in his favor this time.

You never wrestle for a gun. That’s the easiest way to get your own damn self shot.

A coin flip. Heads for John, Tails for Gale.

“Guess the quarter got stuck in a crack.” he mutters. He knows his thought patterns aren’t quite clear, confused and weighed down by exhaustion and shock.

Somewhere an animal is in pain. It gasps raggedly; sharp and raw. Someone should put that animal out of its misery, nothing deserved to be driven to sounds like that. Gale knows he is that animal. He swipes at his suddenly-tear soaked cheeks with a rough palm and sits down on the floor hard.

His phone is in his hand, it’s first instinct to want to call John, hear his teasing voice (it hadn’t been teasing in a long time Gale Cleven don’t you lie). Bucky wouldn’t answer. He knew it would be a day or two before he would get an update on his husband. Not until observation was over, until paperwork was filed and permission was given. The nurse had explained it all through the ringing in Gale’s ears.

“Curt.” Buck says, shocked by the steadiness in his voice even as more tears trail their acidic way down his face.

“Hey Buck, y’just caught me on break what’s up?” The familiar voice, clipping all it’s ‘T’s away to nothingness devastates Gale. He lets out a sob with all the violence of vomiting.

“Gale?”

“Ah fuck Curt, John had a gun.” Gale moans, covering his eyes and trying to breathe. The gun, now tossed carelessly on their bed like a stray shirt.

Nobody tells him how to inform their friends of what has happened.

“What.” Curts voice is so strangled, so tiny that Gale realizes his fatal error immediately.

“He’s okay. He’s okay Curt the gun- it went into the wall. He’s at a hospital right now. He’s where he needs to be.”

Gale had heard that phrase a lot; spoken by people trying to reassure themselves that their loved ones would come home whole and healed. Now he was one of those people whispering the phrase with false confidence.

John needed to be Home.

Curt devolves into a mess of swearing, punctuated with a passionate “Fffffucking VA!”

“I woke up and he wasn’t next to me. I thought maybe he had gotten out somehow, past the alarms. I’d already gotten my gun out of the house Curt I didn’t think-”

There's muffled voices on the other line, Curt talking to someone else, “- No I’m sick can’t you see? Gotta go Sean sorry. Fuck the client pardon my fucking french I gotta family emergency.” A car door slams, the sound of keys in an ignition. “You didn’t know Buck. It’s not your fault you did exactly what ya should’ve.”

“He had the gun to his chin,” Gale says numbly.

Is there anyone to tell him how to get that single heart-stopping image out from behind his eyelids? He saw it every time he closed his eyes.

“Fuck, Gale.” Curt exhales. “He’s okay?” so vulnerable, so sad, needing to double check just in case.

“He’s in fucking psych ward. I can’t even call him.”

“Yeah dumb question.” A pause where Gale just tries to breathe, looks up at that hole in the wall. It could be a woodpecker's hole on any tree outside. It was in his home and smelled faintly of gunpowder and terror. “I’m looking up plane tickets right now.”

“Y’don’t have t-”

“G’fuck yourself, I’m coming.”

Gale has no strength to argue, he’s got nothing left, really.

“I almost lost him, Curt.”

“But you didn’t.” Curt still sounds stressed and Gale feels a twinge of guilt for ruining the guy's day just because he wasn’t able to help his own partner. “You did everything right. And you’re going to go to bed, then you’re going to wake up and I’mma be there. And we’ll deal with things together.”

“Together,” he echoes.

“Get some sleep Buck. I’ll send you a text when my flight lands.” Curt orders before hanging up.

The thought of going into the bedroom; to the bed he shared with John. To have to see that fucking gun again.

Nobody tells him how to handle that.

Gale falls asleep on the couch instead.

-*~*-

When he awakes it’s night again and he feels such a violent sense of deja-vu that he has to do a walk-through of the whole house just to make sure that saving John hadn’t actually been a dream. That his body wasn’t lying somewhere with horrifying finality.

Nobody tells you that maybe your husband's trauma-based decisions might cause a little trauma themselves.

Even though he knows there will be nothing - John's phone kept safely in a plastic bag along with the rest of his personal effects- Gale checks their messages first. Scans them for any sign, any slip that he may have missed that told him what Bucky was planning. ‘Love You’s’ and ‘Be Home Soons’ and ‘Get There Safes’. Bucky had been struggling, but he hadn’t seemed quite that bad yet.

Or maybe Gale just hadn’t wanted to see it.

There’s a text from Curt showing his seven hour direct flight was only a half hour from landing.

Exhaustion still claws at Gale as he shuffles out to the truck, clothes rumbled and sweaty from sleep, from stress; from wrestling a fucking firearm from a man determined to end his life and Gale’s in the same action. The truck is too silent. John usually sat to his right, hand on his thigh or the back of his neck; always touching Gale in a way the blonde allowed no other man to do.

He has to pull over to stop himself from hyperventilating.

When he pulls into the pick-up zone at the Airport it’s nearly deserted aside from a short familiar man in a windbreaker and military boots.

Curt takes one look at his pale face and walks around the nose of the car to the driver's side.

“Budge over.” He says, opening the door and waving an impatient hand at Gale.

Gale didn’t think he could, felt like his hands were glued to the smooth leather of the wheel. Just twenty-four hours ago he’d driven Bucky to the hospital in this car. He wondered at how quickly he’d gone from seeing the next steps so clearly in front of him to having to remember how to even speak. He was a puppet, his strings cut the moment John had entered the doors of the hospital. Through security guard checkpoints and metal detectors and locked doors. It was like being back in the desert with that level of protective diligence; or perhaps a prison

That can’t be very good for Bucky.

Nobody told him it might have been a good idea to inform the hospital why sometimes the glint of metal in the light made John do a double take.

When Gale still hasn’t moved, Curt lets out a tender sigh and unclips Gale’s seatbelt for him like the other man is a child.

“Come on Cleven, scoot on down the line.” He says gently, gives him a light push.

This is enough for him to move his wooden limbs, shuffle awkwardly over the center console and collapse gracelessly into the passenger seat. Curt hauls himself into the truck with an awkward grunt. He takes a second to maneuver his leg, move the seat upwards and the wheel down, and adjust the mirrors.

Gale sits there, opening and closing his hands. John had sat here last. Cried here not because he was alive and safe like Gale had cried; but for the opposite.

Nobody told him how to sit in a puddle of his husband’s shed grief.

“Here,” Curt tosses his phone into Gales lap. “Text Kenny for me will ya? Tell him I got y- got here safe”

“Does he know?”

Curt pulls out of the airport, opens a window and leans his arm out as if he could air out the stuffy melancholy of the truck. “He asked where I was going. I didn’t-”

“John’s gonna hate it.” Gale mumbles “He won’t want anyone to know.”

“Yeah, well, if he didn’t want people to know, maybe he shoulda woken you up. Shoulda called m-” Curt cuts himself off, presses sturdy boxer’s fingers to his mouth. “Fucking VA.” he curses again.

“Fucking VA.” Gale agrees. And it feels a little good.

-*~*-

When they arrive back at the house It’s Curt that leads them inside. Curt, who picks up the gun, carefully disassembles it and puts it safely in the lock-box to be gotten rid of later. Curt who makes them a simple dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

They stand at the counter, eating silently. Gale feels wired and too awake, his sleep schedule beyond to fucked.

He’d have to call out of work tomorrow. Maybe take a short leave. How could he even pretend to be okay for the kids?

“This is- In here right?” Curt’s eyes are jumping around the dark room, searching searching.

Nobody tells you the shame that curls in one's belly when you have to show your best friend the bullet hole that nearly ruined all their lives.

Curt puts his hands on his hips, bread crumbs stuck to the corner of his mouth and brow furrowed. Neither of them say much for a long time. Curt surveying and Gale staring a little blankly and replaying the sound of the gunshot over and over in his head.

“Well,” Curt finally drawls, “That’s an easy fix. You got any spackle?” he turns and smiles at Gale, crooked and reassuring,

Gale thinks he’d like to tell someone about this part. The part where people show up for you.

#swiftywrites #buck x bucky #cleven #buck cleven #john egan #gale cleven #bucky egan #bitches have too many names #curt biddick #young vets au #suicide tw #mota

85 notes · View notes

your-eternal-lies · 1 month

Text

LOVE IS A CHOICE (chapter three)

Main Navigation || Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

PAIRING — Bucky Barnes x Agent f!Reader SERIES SUMMARY — In your experience, relationships only bring drama and heartbreak, and you want absolutely none of it. That is, until an act of sheer recklessness brings Bucky Barnes back into your life.

WARNINGS — Angst, blood and injury, Hydra are assholes, torture, grief, nightmares, ptsd, everyone is just so darn sad. I won’t lie to you, my darlings, this chapter is rough.

LOVE IS A CHOICE

CHAPTER THREE

He always heard the screaming as if it wasn’t his own.

This time, it really wasn’t.

Hidden in the shadows, the Asset fights the urge to look away as his cruelest handler bends over the screaming woman, dragging the tip of a blade over her skin as if trying to carve the secrets directly out of her flesh.

The wounds from her last torture session haven’t even fully healed yet before they are torn open once again, fresh blood spilling onto the frozen concrete floor of her dungeon cell.

But the woman insists she knows nothing. She sobs it over and over, promising that she knows nothing of Natasha Romanoff’s defection.

The Asset stands motionless, unyielding and unflinching, blue eyes as cold as the ice. In all his years here, he has learned to spot when others are lying.

And this one is lying through her teeth.

He can’t understand why.

Self-preservation is the main language he’s learned to speak. Born out of pain, created by now faceless scientists who shock his veins and ice his blood, he is merely a tool at their disposal.

Leave no survivors. That’s the only rule he must abide by when he’s completing a mission. Women and children aren’t exempt from harm, regardless of how much he desperately wants to spare them.

But the Asset knows now. At the very least, he can guarantee their deaths are quick and painless. He is never granted the same mercy. It’s either them or him, and he doesn’t have the luxury to feel sorry that he picks himself every single time.

Granted, his handlers would probably kill her once they were done, but at least the agony would stop. He would personally give anything for it to stop. But, he can’t help but wonder… what could possibly be worth suffering through all that pain?

Despite himself, he is bombarded by images he can’t recognize. A boy with hair brighter than sunshine and eyes that could mirror his own, a suit of stars and stripes, the echo of a scream over the sounds of a running train.

“Soldat,” his handler’s gravelly voice pulls him back into reality. The Asset does not respond from behind his mask; he never does. “I’m taking a break. Keep an eye on the girl.”

Taking a break, he says. As if he hasn’t spent the last few days torturing a girl half his size, sheathing a still blood-covered blade in its usual spot in his belt. The Asset hides his disgust behind a veil of indifference, eyes seeing but unfeeling.

But as the days wore on, as the events of the previous ones kept repeating over and over, as the woman kept insisting she knew absolutely nothing, making it clear she was ready to die to keep whatever secrets she held close, something truly terrifying happens.

Whenever they left him alone with her, he would emerge from the shadows, something deep in his soul reacting to her sorrow. His eyes asked her questions his mouth never would, and she would lie there against that concrete slab, exhausted but unable to sleep, and tell him to survive.

“You must live,” she would insist, and he would find that over the course of their limited exchanges, his palm would somehow find its way against hers. “You’re not who they say you are.”

That was all it took. One small sliver of warmth and, in the previously hollow expanse of his chest, a heart he didn’t know still existed stuttered back to life.

And when the time came for her pain to resume, he found he did not want to move from his spot at her side. He wanted to kill every last one of them, anyone who laid even a finger on her, but she would remove her hand from his and silently beckon him to comply.

Ah, he thought as he did as she wished, forcing himself to listen to every last whimper and shriek, this was his punishment, wasn’t it?

He told himself then that he wouldn’t forget, no matter how much they tried to make him. He would remember her face, her voice, and the feel of her skin against his—even the metallic scent of her blood.

He would remember The Woman, he promised.

He would allow Natasha Romanoff, when she finally returned to Moscow with a wrath hot enough to scorch the frozen earth beneath her, to kill his handler with a swift flick of her blade. He would hide in the shadows once more, allowing her to pick The Woman up and carry her away.

“No!” She had begged, reaching out for him in vain, too weak to properly protest. In that moment, he wished he knew her name, wished he could caress her cheek with his one good hand, and commit the feeling to memory.

But then a swarm of footsteps brought more agents, more handlers, more carnage into the fray. Only when Romanoff was a good distance away did he step between the women and his very own captors.

The Woman still screams in the distance, with a new kind of pain that carves deep in his bones, her voice echoing off the concrete walls, the both of them understanding the gravity of the decision he’d just made.

It takes nearly a dozen guards to subdue him, after he’s already spilled the blood of another ten. They strap him down back into that blasted chair, the one that used to scare him, the one he went to impossible and devastating lengths to avoid.

This time, he allows them to push him into it. He accepts his fate, closing his eyes against the impending agony, wondering if The Woman is finally safe. Pain-free.

Or rather, just plain free.

And here he used to wonder, what could possibly be worth suffering through all that pain? It had been such a mystery mere weeks ago, now made incredibly simple.

The Asset is momentarily soothed when he thinks of The Woman’s face, but as the machine is turned on and unspeakable agony is torn from his throat, they make him do the one thing he said he wouldn’t.

They make him break his promise.

Because he forgets.

Steve feels like he owes you.

“You’re good, I’ll give you that much.” He remembers saying the day you met, only months after he came out of the ice, outside his small gym of choice tucked away in a quiet corner of Brooklyn, carrying that punching bag over his shoulder like it was a weightless sack of potatoes. “I’ve barely managed to shake you all day.”

You looked up at him then, out the driver’s seat window of your dark sedan, sipping loudly at a pink smoothie and squinting casually against the golden light of the setting sun behind him. Completely unfazed at having been made, you weren’t even slightly intimidated by his looming stature and, quite frankly, his even larger reputation.

Nor were you particularly disturbed by the fact that you’d probably been watching him throw punches all day, as if all that equipment had personally offended him somehow.

You didn’t even bother tucking away your SHIELD-issued tablet, which you had obviously been using to keep tabs on him. He knew now how easy it must have been for you to hack into the city’s CCTV cameras, let alone the gym’s—all mere child’s play for a spy.

The sun was setting on Agent 19’s first day on Captain America Babysitting Duty, and this was the most you’d seen of each other since sunrise that morning.

“Well, Captain,” you said, shrugging and tossing the tablet onto the passenger seat beside you. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

There was also an open file lying across the seat, complete with blown-up photos of him, pre- and post-serum, along with a full profile and background check.

“But I didn’t know you resorted to thieving these days,” you gestured at the punching bag on his shoulder. “I do hope you cleaned up after yourself, by the way.”

Steve almost smiled then, recalling the way the punching bag he’d ruined earlier leaked sand all over the floors. He, in fact, hadn’t cleaned up, too much in a hurry to leave your boss behind to bother.

“Like I just told Fury, I don’t need a handler,” he said evenly to keep from grinning. You scoffed then, rolling your eyes so hard he thought they might fall right out of your head.

“No offence, Cap, but do you think I wanted this job? One day in and you’re already a pain in my ass,” you pick up his file, flapping it in the air with frustration, sending papers scattering all over the interior of your car. “Does this sound like a good use of my time to you, when I could be out there kicking the absolute shit out of some bad guys right now?”

“You sound a little resentful, Agent,” Steve deadpanned, turning around to start the short walk back to his apartment before you could reply. He ignored you the rest of the trip, even though you followed closely behind him at a snail’s pace, shouting a string of profanities at him, pissing off every other driver on the road.

Steve lets a brief smile loose at the memory. Neither of you could have known that the relationship you’d come to share—him with his reluctant handler, and you with your equally unwilling charge—would blossom into a friendship unlike any other he’d ever had.

You didn’t appreciate it at first whenever he tagged along on your missions, insisting you didn’t need micromanaging. But over time, you grew accustomed to his quiet presence, admitting at one point that things just didn’t feel right if he wasn’t there watching your six.

He grew fond of your obscure pop culture references that always went over his head, began keeping an eye on you instead of the other way around, given your uncanny knack for getting mixed up into trouble even when you weren’t looking for it.

And he doesn’t even know your name. Not your real one, anyway, but it just didn’t matter. No matter what your real name was, where you really came from, Steve, despite his reservations, grew to love you in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

He’d been an only child, watching on with envy whenever he saw Bucky together with little Rebecca. His best friend’s little sister chased after her brother like he hung the moon, reaching out her tiny hands and only letting out her signature squeal of laughter whenever Bucky reached back.

That kind of love was special. Steve never thought he’d experience anything close to it, but whenever he looks at you, he knew that was what you were—a sister given to him by circumstances, but the one he always knew he wanted.

But when the other shoe dropped, because it always did, the day you both discovered that SHIELD had been compromised, that your lives’ work had been almost for nothing, trust and love was shattered with a single question.

Who are you really, Agent 19?

It never occurred to him to ask before then, but it made some semblance of sense in his angst-filled state. Why else had Alexander Pierce been so insistent, relentless almost, that Steve be assigned a handler in the first place?

But no matter how justified his suspicions might have been, no matter how far he felt his heart sink when he learned that the traitor was, in fact, your longtime partner and not you yourself, the choice had already been made.

Whatever light that had remained in your eyes went out that day, and Steve couldn’t seem to bring it back, no matter how many times he tried to restore the friendship to what it was. He carried the broken shards of what remained in his hands, spirits falling each time you silently rebuffed him with that forlorn look in your eyes.

The good humour and affection between you dissipated like smoke, and now whenever you spoke the words were always terse, charged, and angry. Steve knew how much he fucked up, because it was clear from the moment his question left his lips that you hadn’t known the answer, either.

And now you’re teetering over the edge of life and death, and once again, Steve isn’t there. Natasha steps up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to ease his knuckle-white grip on the quinjet’s yoke, her own distress evident in her normally stoic features.

His leather gloves are still splattered with blood. The rest of the team didn’t protest, or didn’t dare protest, as he instructed Clint to pilot the jet back towards the Hydra base he had singlehandedly sent you to. With military-like efficiency, Steve took down that base and every last agent that stood in his way—unforgiving and vengeful—despite Sam’s attempts at calming him.

But it is what they found on those computers that haunt him, that haunt them all. Natasha stares straight ahead, but the way her eyes shine in the moonlight belies her grief.

Wanda sits in one of the seats behind him, chin wobbling as she closes her eyes against a fresh wave of tears, remembering the sounds of your horrible screams, captured on video and morbidly saved in Hydra’s digital archives for years.

Sam and Clint hunch over in their own seats in an uncomfortable yet pensive silence. Tony taps an impatient foot against the floor, brows knitted together in concentration. The entire team struggles to grapple with a startling and devastating conclusion.

This whole time, you and Bucky were tied together, but you were the only one who was burdened to remember.

Steve swallows the lump of emotion that forms in his throat, suddenly feeling the urge to just bawl into his hands.

In hindsight, it all makes sense. The thinly veiled shock when Steve brought Bucky back to the Compound. The way you used to look at him, as if you were both unspeakably angry and horribly miserable. The way you reacted to his reassignment. The distance you were determined to maintain between you.

The decision to ask Helen Cho to use the Regeneration Cradle to eliminate those scars. You used to wear them like a badge of honour, a sign of your undying loyalty to your best friend. But the second Bucky had come around, you wanted them gone.

All of it made sense now.

Natasha finally breaks down, as if coming to the same realizations, turning away to storm off to the back of the jet where she clearly hoped nobody would pay attention to her muffled sobs.

Steve bites down on the inside of his cheek, wondering how much Hydra was going to take before they were satisfied. Better question, how much more was Steve willing to let them take? The answer was none. No more. Not on his watch.

And if he couldn’t convince you using his words that he trusted you, that he regretted ever doubting you in the first place, then he’d show you in a different way.

He’d entrust you with a new mission so important that you wouldn’t possibly be able to draw any other conclusion. He would give you Bucky, his best friend, who may as well have been his very heart personified, and leave him in your very capable hands.

Steve lets out a humourless laugh. He didn’t have to give you anything; turns out, Bucky had been yours for a long time now.

But at the very least, he would see to it that you remembered one very important detail: that despite your unknown origins, your past with the KGB, despite Aiden Galloway, despite Hydra, despite all of it—you are loved, important, and irreplaceable.

All you had to do was stay alive.

Agent Galloway has one hand pressed to a wound just below his ribcage, warm blood seeping out from between his fingers. He’s got even more injuries, each just as devastating as the next, but he doesn’t have enough hands for them all.

You watch as the floor beneath him is stained with a slowly growing pool of crimson, but you make no move to help him.

You’re the one who shot him, after all.

Your ears are ringing from the ongoing sounds of gunfire and explosions, the walls of the Triskelion coming down around you in dust and cinders. You slump against a nearby wall that’s miraculously still intact, your right hand still loosely clutching your firearm. You’re not seriously wounded, but you’re exhausted all the same.

“Come in, Agent! Come in!” Natasha’s voice crackles over your earpiece, desperate and angry, maybe even a little scared. The Black Widow you fight alongside with in the field never shows any fear, any hesitation, but today she’s not an agent—neither are you.

She is just Natasha Romanoff today, your scaredy cat big sister who hides behind an armour of indifference and stoicism. But you know better; she’s got the biggest heart of all.

“Hill! Do you have eyes on 19?” She yells over the sounds of a whirring helicopter, but you can still hear the panic in her voice.

“Negative!” Maria Hill responds over the distant roar of another explosion, and even she sounds a little frantic. Aw. Is that sentiment you hear in the spy’s voice? “Agent 19, can you hear me?”

You want to respond, make a snarky little comment about how they’re both going soft, but something prevents your voice from working. Emotion lodges itself in your throat as you slide to the floor, burning behind your eyes as you squeeze them shut against the pain, stemming from your physical wounds and countless others that can’t be seen.

You won’t die here, not at the hands of Hydra, the damn parasites. Steve is taking down the helicarriers now, and you have no doubt he will succeed. After that, Sam will likely come find you and pull you from the wreckage with Natasha in tow. You’ll listen to her lecture all the way to the hospital, just like old times.

Your friends will come… won’t they?

Natasha has saved you more times than you can count, but you can’t help the doubt that creeps in, dark and quiet just like the first hints of fear. Will she wonder about you too, once they find out that the formerly-decorated SHIELD agent Aiden Galloway—your friend, your mentor, your partner, your brother-in-arms—is dirty?

Will an everlasting cloud of suspicion hang over your head even if you emerge from this, alive but not unscathed? Even Steve had doubted you once. Does he still? Will you ever know for sure?

“How does it feel?” Galloway rasps at you, flashing a morbid smile as his death approaches. It’s not fast enough for you, unfortunately, as you listen to his deathbed confession. “To know that all of it was a lie?”

You hate to give him the satisfaction, but your face distorts with anguish all the same as he twists the proverbial knife, one last time.

Being an agent wasn’t just a title. It was a privilege for someone like you, who had come from unknown origins, who defected to SHIELD without even a name of her own, who once spent years of her life either being locked up or trained to spread calamity and discord.

But all this time, what were you even fighting for? You thought you were finally standing on the right side of history, but it wasn’t true, was it? You weren’t, in fact, a noble agent of SHIELD. You were just another unwitting Hydra pawn all along.

All those battles fought in the name of good and justice, all those comrades lost over the years, and for what? For a world that quite frankly asked too much and gave too little in return.

What had this world ever done for you, other than punish you for simply being born?

“You won’t win,” you bite out vindictively, adrenaline melting out of your veins with every breath. “Men like you never do.”

“The Asset won’t let us down,” Aiden laughs. He actually laughs, the motherfucker. “You remember him, don’t you?”

Your heart splits, a fresh wave of pain washing over you. The memories come flooding back: blue eyes peering at you over the edge of a mask—a black muzzle for a boy taken, kept like a prisoner, and then used like a piece of machinery; the warmth of his palm against yours in that freezing cold dungeon; and the sacrifice he’d made so you and Natasha could escape.

He had been alive all this time, all alone, not knowing that people out there remembered him, thought about him, and cared about him.

You can’t help but think of Steve, every stricken look on the rare occasion he deigned to speak about his childhood friend, as if reliving an eighty-year-old nightmare.

Your force your eyes open. This Aiden Galloway before you is a stranger, because the one you knew, the one you had grown to love like a brother, could never be so cruel. He took you under his wing when you first arrived, showing you the ropes and teaching you everything you knew about being a good agent.

He’d done wonders too; soon, you were working in Fury’s division with the revered likes of Natasha, Maria, and the famous Clint Barton.

So why?

Galloway had pulled you out of more scrapes than you could remember during your first missions as a reckless rookie agent. He had covered for your mistakes, took scoldings and official reprimands in your place with a carefree smile. He had taken literal bullets for you. He had bled in your stead.

If this was always Hydra’s endgame, then why bother saving you at all? Why not just let you die out there somewhere, blaming it on literally anything and anyone else but himself? Why couldn’t he just kill you before the seeds of affection could ever blossom?

Why pretend to care about you at all?

It’s stunning that the existence of cruelty, plain and simple, still manages to surprise you. You’d think that, after all this time, after everything you’ve seen and everything you’ve suffered, you’d come to expect it at every corner… or at least get better at spotting it.

Well.

You won’t make the same mistake again.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you lift your gun. You’ve handled this weapon hundreds of times, used it to end countless lives before today and will likely continue to do so after, but today it feels oddly heavy in your hand.

Ending a life never comes easy, no matter how many times you do it or which side of history you stand on, but you already know that this particular kill is one that won’t ever leave you.

You take aim, your finger steady on the trigger. Just like Aiden taught you. He won’t last much longer anyhow, given how much blood he’s already lost, but you have to remind yourself that this isn’t an act of mercy. It’s an act of retribution, one he most definitely deserves.

You wonder, if you repeat it to yourself enough times, will you come to believe your own words?

Aiden grins, a ruby-red smile that sears itself in your mind and stays with you long after he’s gone. The bastard just has to get in the last word, and even as his eyes glaze over, two words reach into the smoke and haunt your dreams.

“Hail Hydra.”

Your eyes snap open, your lungs drawing in a sharp gasp of a breath.

For a disorienting heartbeat, you’re lost in time, trying to claw your way out of the clutches of a persistent nightmare, and blinking rapidly against the stark reality of consciousness.

A sheen of cold sweat clings to your brow, your skin prickling and clammy under a heavy quilt as you try to sit up.

You regret it instantly, a searing pain shooting up and down your body, every muscle protesting the movement. The walls of a rustic cabin materialize slowly around you like a developing polaroid, and suddenly you remember.

The safe house. You had entered its coordinates on your jet just before it crashed about a mile away. You didn’t think you’d make it, growing dizzy with pain and blood loss before eventually collapsing in the snow.

The room is brightly-lit by a flickering fire, where a log pops loudly and sparks jumping up before disappearing again onto the stone hearth. You take deep breaths to try and calm your frenzied heart, tasting the fresh sharp scent of pine and sweet bread on your tongue.

Your pulse begins to settle back into a less frantic rhythm, the weight of the quilt lain on top of you comforting and warm… until you look up and see a snowy white cat perched on top of the bedside table. You startle, wincing in pain as your feline guardian peers at you curiously with beautiful blue eyes.

It reminds you of—

“Hey,” comes a voice, gravelly with sleep and something akin to worry. He’s close, so close you wonder how you didn’t sense his presence before now, his eyes the familiar colour of arctic ice. Those eyes have never left your thoughts, it occurs to you now, reluctant to release you from their grasp.

You feel your muscles tense at the sight of him, the quilt’s fabric bunching in your fists as you grip the edges tighter. Your tac-suit is gone, you suddenly realize, and you’re lying naked in a bed that Bucky Barnes usually sleeps in.

“You’re probably still mad,” Bucky says, his voice so quiet you almost have to lean in to hear him despite your closeness. “But I just…”

He trails off and for a moment, he just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re here. Then, in the fire’s glow, you’re suddenly pressed into his chest by a pair of powerful arms, so gently as if he’s handling the most precious thing in the world.

You’re not mad, you think but don’t say. You never were. Not at him, anyway. You can’t tell him why; the only problem with this frustratingly beautiful man is that he only ever blames himself, even if he’s done nothing wrong.

Even when you’re the one who is broken and unworthy.

There is a reason for the distance you’ve steadily kept, but as you hear his astounded and shaky whispers of you’re alive, thank god you’re alive in your ear, you allow yourself a minute.

One minute in which you’re allowed to feel—the ache, the yearning, and the fragments of a heart you gave away a long time ago and never got back.

« Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 »

Taglist — @cjand10 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @nerdreader Please leave a comment or send me a DM if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story. Note that if you ask and you are a blank blog, I will block you instead.

Notes — For what it’s worth, I really am sorry for what I’m putting these two through. Did you guys know that this idea was originally conceived as a five-chapter romantic comedy lmao?! Also, the fluff is coming in future chapters—I promise. Everyone just has to suffer a lot a bit first because evidently I’m a sadist, lmao.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #summer’s fics

73 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

eddie/hospital/morphine button

Because this man is a menace, even when he doesn't mean to be.

Warnings: mentions of smut, hospital/injuries (unrelated to the Upside Down), regulated morphine use (obviously), pregnant!Reader

WC: 1.3k

Your heels clack on the floor as you attach the visitor badge to your blazer, hurrying down the hall to room 114. You’re exhausted after what seemed like the longest trip ever, even though your business trips to San Francisco were nothing out of the ordinary.

Of course, a frantic phone call from Wayne Munson is always sure to shake things up.

The elder Munson man is typically even-tempered and cool as a cucumber. So when your hotel room phone rang and he was on the other end of the line, breathlessly explaining that Eddie had fallen off of a ladder and was unable to move, you’d gotten a ticket for the first flight back to Indiana.

“He was helpin’ hang up lights for the Christmas fair downtown, and there was a big gust of wind…took him right down. Landed on his tailbone,” Wayne rushed, choking up at the memory. “We just got him to the hospital, and they’re taking him in for x-rays. If he shattered it, he’ll need emergency surgery.”

You’d assured him that you were on your way home, already haphazardly throwing clothes into your suitcase. Between inclement weather and holiday airport busyness, it had taken you forever to be put on a plane. Eight hours later, including a layover at O’Hare and nearly an hour cab ride, you’d finally made it.

Wayne is standing outside the room, gnawing on his thumbnail anxiously. If smoking in hospitals was still allowed, he’d be halfway through a carton at this point.

“Never a dull moment when you’re a Munson, is there, darlin’?” He tries to joke, but the catch in his voice weakens his attempt at humor. You pull him in for a hug, and neither of you let go for a long time. “He’s out of surgery now,” Wayne continues. “He fractured his tailbone, and the doc said he’ll need physical therapy after he starts to heal up a bit.”

“He didn’t…did he hit his head?” you ask quietly, tears brimming in your own eyes. You’d been in fight-or-flight mode, nerves on edge this entire time, and now that you were here, you were finally able to process everything that happened.

“No, thank God,” Wayne answers, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. “That boy can’t afford to lose any more brain cells.” He lets out a terse chuckle.

You bite your lip nervously. “Is it okay if I go in and see him?��

‘’Course.” Wayne gestures towards the door. You step in, looking at your sleeping husband laying in the bed. He’s hooked up to various beeping machines, and it tugs at your heartstrings to see him so vulnerable.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He stirs for a moment before falling back to sleep. “I’m here whenever you wake up, okay?”

“Mmm,” Eddie’s big brown eyes flutter open, and he manages a small smile. “Hi, my love,” he murmurs. Out of habit, he tries to sit up, and he winces with pain. “Shit. Well, that hurts like hell. Jesus H. Christ.”

You brush a lock of curly hair out of his eyes. “Don’t push yourself, Eds. I can help you sit up.” You bring your arms under his, supporting him as he props himself up. “Anything you need, I’m on it.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Anything?”

“Edward Munson, are you seriously asking for a blowjob right now?” You roll your eyes.

He pouts. “Hand stuff?”

“Eddie.”

“Fine,” he laments, patting the spot next to him on the bed. Before he can continue, a cough rattles his whole body, and he grimaces.

You instinctively jump up. “Let me get you some water,” you say.

Eddie shakes his head. “Stay with me, baby. I’ll just ask one of the nurses.” He pushes a red button next to him. “Someone should be in in a few minutes.”

You nod and sit back down. “So,” you grin, “I heard you got beat up by a gust of wind.”

“Dammit, Wayne!” Eddie groans, but his smile matches yours. “I wanted to tell people that I was wrestling an alligator.”

“Ah, yes,” you giggle. “Very realistic, given Indiana’s burgeoning alligator population.”

Eddie pushes the button again with a bit more force this time. “Usually they come running,” he mutters. “Must be jealous that my hot wife is here.” He puckers his lips, and you kiss them until you feel him smile. “Shit, I didn’t even ask how your trip was. Did you do a lot of Important Person things? Show all those limp-dick CEOs what a badass you are?”

You swat at him playfully, careful of his wounds. “I didn’t realize how painfully boring work trips are when you can’t drink. But the munchkin made sure I fulfilled all of my food cravings.”

Eddie perks up at that, bringing his hand to the slight swell of your belly and talking to his unborn baby. “Yeah, bub? You took your mom on a culinary tour of San Francisco?” He looks up at you with a frown. “I think he’s ignoring me.”

“He’s just mad because you’re stealing all of the attention from him,” you tease, watching Eddie page the nurses for a third time. “Babe, let me just get you some water.”

“No, ish fine,” he slurs, pressing the red button again and again, or at least trying to—his hand keeps slipping. “Thas’ why they get paid the big bucks.”

You cock your brow. “Are you okay?”

“Never better, cutie patootie,” he giggles, reaching to poke your nose before giving up and booping the air. “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“No,” he whines, “‘m askin’ you.” He bursts into a fit of giggles, stopping abruptly when the pain sets in. “Gotta stop makin’ me laugh. You’re too funny, honey. My funny bunny honey.”

“I didn’t say anything…” you muse. Was Wayne sure that he hadn’t sustained any head injuries? Panic sets in as you imagine every possible horrible scenario. A nurse walks down the hallway, and you flag her down before she passes the room.

“I think there’s something wrong,” you blurt out. “He’s slurring his words, and he’s all confused—”

“Yeah, and I’ve been tryin’ to get a glass of water but no one’s comin’!” Eddie punctuates the last three words with more attempted button-pushing. “This service is terrible!”

The nurse massages the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Mr. Munson,” she explains calmly, “the green button is our call button. You’ve been pressing the morphine button.” As though she can read your mind, she turns to you and says, “don’t worry; there’s a limit. He won’t overdose.”

Relief courses through your body for the second time today. “Thank you,” you tell her, catching your breath.

“Of course.” She smiles and looks back at your husband, who is currently staring into space. “Get some rest, Mr. Munson. You certainly need it.”

Eddie laughs hysterically as she leaves. “She was totally flirting with me,” he announces to no one in particular, a dopey grin plastered to his face. “Sorry you had to see that. ‘M just irr-sistable.”

“Sure are.” You pat his head gingerly. “Go sleep, Eds. I love you.”

“Whoa, let’s not rush into things, baby,” he says, already drifting off. You chuckle as you walk out the door.

“All good?” Wayne asks, holding out a bag of potato chips from the vending machine.

You take a chip and nod. “Yup. Oh, except that he mixed up the call and morphine buttons, so he’s higher than a kite.”

“This is the man you chose to be the father of your child?” Wayne teases, popping another chip in his mouth.

“Yeah, well, we just won’t have him teach the baby his colors.”

#bug's 2k celebration #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

971 notes · View notes

darkwolf989 · 2 months

Text

Outside The Office Part Twelve

Hi All! Trigger warning for Valentino, adverse reactions and Lucifer being himself. As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

The next thing I knew, Valentino’s hand was pressed against my forehead, and another on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, involuntarily breaking out into a smile. The man truly had the most handsome face, especially when it was doused with love.

“Come on, Princessa. You can’t sleep yet. You need food, and then a nap. In that order.” He said gently as he shook my shoulder.

On the coffee table, he set a plate of sandwiches, several bags of chips, two bottles of sweet sixteen and a plate of cookies just close enough for both of us to reach. He sat down next to me and I leaned into him. He nudged me gently until I reached across and chose one of the sandwiches. Valentino gave me a look and I nibbled on my choice of lunch. Across from us, Vox and Velvette had their plates and Vox began flipping through the television channels.

“When is that episode due to air?” I asked between bites.

“Bright and early tomorrow morning,” Vox answered. “Which means tomorrow night we need to go out on the town and get back into that routine of being seen. As long as you can stand it, of course. ”

“Back to the routine of being seen, hmm? Can’t say I disagree with the idea.” Lucifer’s voice boomed from behind.

All four of us jumped. Lucifer grinned and opened his arms. “Hello hello!”

“Twice in one day? Uncle Lucy, what gives us the pleasure of your company?” I asked, trying to bite back the sarcasm that threatened to drip with each word.

He bent over and plucked a sandwich from the plate on the table and shrugged. “What, I can’t visit my favorite niece for lunch?” He laughed at his own joke. “No, but really. I came because I saw the tape Vox sent over. It’s perfect darling, honestly. Couldn’t have done better if I wrote the script myself.” He took another bite, chewed and swallowed before he continued, “I took a little field trip based on what Valentino and Velvette told me about your remaining injuries. Hell’s medicine can’t fix everything, but I think what I have in my bag will speed up the remainder of the process.”

He opened his suit jacket and pulled out an orange bottle, shaking it. I could hear the pills rattle and I began to raise my objection.

He shook his head before I could protest. “Listen to me. I know you’re not a fan of medication that makes your head fuzzy, but believe me when I tell you by tomorrow night you’re going to need to be at the top of your game. These pills get swallowed on a full tummy. Do you understand? Full tummy. Otherwise you’ll spend the night puking your guts out instead of getting better.” He paused. “I would have offered them earlier, but they’re incredibly strong, sweetheart. And they will make you high. If it wasn’t so damn important that I drop this news tomorrow morning I would push it off. But I can’t, and there isn’t a fucking thing I can do about it. So please, even though I know you hate the idea, or maybe the actual process of being high, take these for your Uncle Lucy, so I know that when you walk out that door tomorrow night you are fully ready to handle whatever comes at you.”

I hesitated. I saw his oint, but the idea of taking something to quell the pain left a solid distaste in my mouth. And quite honestly, I had never experienced any sort of high- the closest I got to losing control was drinking too much. In the angelic realm, painkillers that did that were reserved for the utmost emergencies, of which I had experienced none. At least, none I could remember. The soreness in my muscles, the offer of relief along with the desire to be able to protect myself was tempting. But I couldn’t. I could push through the pain, right? No need to take anything to speed up the process- I would heal on my own.

Sensing my uncertainty, Valentino leaned into me, dropping his voice to almost a whisper. “Princessa. The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can show you…all of the things we’ve talked about the past few days.”

As if magic, the butterflies returned and my hesitation vanished. Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Valentino and opened his mouth as if to say something. I quickly cut him off.

“Alright. I mean, if it makes you feel better Uncle Lucy. But this is an exception to the rule, not the norm. Got it?”

His expression relaxed. “Ah. Good choice dear. Valentino, will you step out to the kitchen with me while she finishes her lunch?” He looked down at me. “I cannot stress enough that your stomach needs food in it before you can take this medication. Eat as much as you can, alright?”

Lucifer slung his arm around Valentino. “Come now, good man. We need to talk.”

I looked at Vox and Velvette. Vox shook his head and turned up the television volume, making it impossible to make out what was being discussed. I listened for any sound I could discern from the kitchen as I finished my sandwich and, with Lucifer’s warning in mind, grabbed a cookie and one of the bags of chips on the table. I had swallowed the last bite and taken a few sips of Sweet Sixteen when Lucifer and Valentino walked out of the kitchen, both thankfully in one piece.

“What was that about?” I asked worriedly.

Lucifer stood behind me and leaned on the back of the couch. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” he said, patting my hair. “Did you eat?”

“Vox and Vel as my witnesses, I had had a sandwich, a cookie, and a bag of chips,” I answered, the uneasiness washing over me. “Is that enough? I’m nervous, Lucifer.”

He did a double take at my admission. “Totally natural to be nervous, sweetheart, but I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you,” he assured me, and then gave Valentino a look. “I promise you, this is your best choice at the moment.”

Valentino grinned at Lucifer, but didn’t respond. Instead, he draped his arm around me and pulled me to him, kissing the top of my head.

“Val, what did he say to you?” I asked, nudging him.

“If I told you, Lucifer would probably kill me,” he answered lightly. “Really. Don’t worry about it, it's between us and has nothing to do with you.”

“Alright then, let's do this,” Lucifer tapped my shoulder as he spoke. “Hold out your hand.”

I did as he directed, and two bright orange capsules dropped into my outstretched palm.

“Here. Put these in your mouth and swallow. Drink the rest of the Sweet Sixteen with them,” Lucifer said.

I did as he instructed, and when I finished the bottle, Lucifer leaned over the couch. “Now open up, so I know they’re safely in your tummy.”

I rolled my eyes but leaned back and opened my mouth and lifted my tongue as he requested. While I didn’t expect him to ask me to prove I had swallowed them, but it wasn't totally unusual in my world. Or should I say, my former world. The doctors at the military base required us to do the same with any medication they dispensed.

He frowned. “It concerns me on so many levels that you knew exactly what I was asking you to do. And compiled without so much as a hesitation. But regardless, atta girl. They should kick in in about…twenty minutes or so. Let me know how you feel when you wake up tomorrow afternoon.”

“You mean tomorrow morning, right?”

And with that he vanished and I looked to Valentino, fear crackling through my chest.

“What’s about to happen to me?”

He wrapped his arms around me and brought me to his chest. “Nothing that will last forever, my love. And I’m right here to get you through it. I know you’re scared, but we’re here. We are all here.” He looked at Vox and Velvette. “Right?”

“Absolutely. We’ll work from home for the rest of the day too. Just in case you need anything.” Velvette said, yawning and cuddling into Vox.

I snuggled into Valentino and he took the final bite of his lunch before lifting me up and cradling me to him. Once he was finished, he carried me down the hallway to his bedroom.

“How about a warm shower before the medication kicks in?” He suggested, setting me down on the bathroom counter as he turned on the water. “Or if they do kick in, I’ll be there to hold onto you so nothing awful happens.”

“That sounds lovely,” I answered, kicking off my heels so they fell onto the floor. “I feel exhausted. And every inch of me hurts.”

“Mmm, I can help with that, princessa,” he muttered, reaching under my dress and yanking down my pantyhose with practiced ease. “We have a few minutes until the water warms up, how about we have some fun while we wait?”

Every part of me wanted him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he ran his hand down my back. Involuntarily, I yelped from the pain and he recoiled instantly, and concern washed over his features.

“Or not. Princessa. You hurt that badly? Why did you keep that from me?” He asked with frustration. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “See, princessa? I am frustrated that you didn't communicate with me. I communicated that frustration to you. Therefore that frustration isn’t festering into anger. And you know how I feel. Keep that in mind as you start to explore all the things that come with your power. Communication helps to keep emotion in check.” He bent down and kissed my forehead. “ It’s the key to other things as well, but we can discuss that once the pain subsides. Come on, the warm water will help.”

I jumped down from the counter and I swore I could feel the pills knocking around in my belly. Or maybe it was the nervousness of what was to come. Valentino took my hand and we stepped inside, sinking us both beneath the streams of water. I breathed a sigh of relief as the pain slowly eased up, laying my head against his bare chest. Even over the sound of the water, I could hear his heartbeat thundering under my ear, taking in every single moment of that soothing sound as I let the water wash away the discomfort.

And then it hit me, fast and sudden. The pain was gone, vanished as quickly as it had been present. I felt my entire body relax, leaning my weight against him. I held onto him just the slightest bit tighter and I swore I heard his heartbeat grow louder.

“What’s happening? Why is there so much…” Is what I tried to say, but to my ears it came out garbled and broken.

An amused smile broke out across Valentino’s face. “Princessa? Have you ever been high before?”

Confusion ripped through my brain like wildfire as any thought I had disappeared. I desperately tried to bring myself back to focus. “No, that isn’t right. It’s…it's…why does the world seem so, not real?”

I felt him laugh under me, a steady movement. “Ah, princessa. My sweetheart. Come now. Let’s go get you dressed and in bed.”

The next thing I knew my head was on his chest, wrapped up in the softest blankets I had ever touched. I felt his hand on my back and the loud click of his laptop keys as he continued to work. It sounded too loud, but I couldn’t bring myself to care enough to ask him to stop. Not a single part of my body hurt. I felt like I was floating. All my worries, my fears seemed far away, too far for me to grasp. It felt unnatural and wrong that for the first time in my life, I just didn’t care about, well, anything.

I didn’t like it.

I tried to reach for Valentino, tried to tell him about this feeling. I tried, but I couldn’t make out the words I wanted.

“Shush. Babydoll. It’s alright, I’m here.” Valentino answered soothingly. “Go back to sleep. I know, mi amor. But you’re safe, I promise.

I felt his lips press against my forehead and I closed my eyes, allowing the darkness to consume me once again.

Dreams turned into nightmares as around me, monsters flew. Dark shapes cornered me time and time again as I did everything in my power to fight them away, fight for my own survival. I felt Val shaking me gently and I startled awake for the briefest of moments. The terrors of my nightmares faded away slowly before resurging, again and again. I would escape and they would come back, yanking me back into the abyss. Somehow, I was vaguely aware of his hand on my wrist.

“Sweetheart, wake up, it's okay, it's just a bad dream,” he muttered gently as he shook me. “Babydoll, come on. Wake up.”

I tried to sit up, the need to sleep washing over me as I leaned into him, closing my eyes again as the darkness flooded my brain.

Just a few more minutes, Val, I thought. I didn’t have the energy to speak even if I wanted to.

“Come on babe, you’ve slept long enough. It’s time to get up.”

My voice barely registered the urgency in his voice. I felt his hands lift me up and carry me to the couch, propping my body upright against him.

“I can’t leave you by yourself like this,” he muttered, running his hands through my hair. “Come on babydoll. Wake up for me.”

“Val, go do what you have to do. We’ll keep an eye on her, get something in her when she wakes up more,” Vox said. “She isn’t in any shape to join you. She’s safe here, with us.

Somehow, Valentino was now next to Vox and I was propped up against a pile of pillows. I opened my eyes just a touch and the entire room spun, the walls a shade of purple I couldn't piece together.

Velvette looked up at me and did a double take. Or at least, I thought she did. Honestly, was that Velvette? I couldn’t tell. I closed my eyes and put my head back against the pillows, letting the darkness consume me once again.

This time I was being chased, my father’s face in front of me. He swirled into his angelic form- wings broad as he vanished behind a raging sea of blackness. I tried to scream as I fell in the opposite direction, sure every bone had shattered when I landed. Instead, I found myself in a raging sea, fighting against the waves as I struggled to swim. I sank, down, down, down…

How much time passed, I couldn’t tell. The next thing I registered was the TV shaped face looking at me as he shook me for reasons I couldn’t quite piece together. I startled awake, looking at him in confusion. Why was Vox trying to wake me up? Around me, the room spun, and I couldn’t remember exactly where I was or how I had gotten there.

Vox leaned over and brushed the hair out of my eyes. “Come on babe, I brought you soup. Lucifer said you’ve got to eat.” His arm fell to my waist and he hoisted me upright. “Come on, babycakes.” He handed me a spoon and set a mug on the coffee table in front of me.

I stared at him and then at the spoon, trying desperately to remember what he had said, and what in the world a spoon was used for. Velvette’s face appeared next to me and Vox shook his head, knelt down and waved his hand in front of my face.

“I honestly can’t tell if it's like a bad acid trip, or if she’s stoned out of her mind,” He said with concern. “We should probably wait for Valentino if she’s this fucked up. He should be back any moment now. I wonder if I can get her attention on the TV, try to keep her awake? Otherwise, I’m out of ideas.”

“Worth a shot,” I heard Velvette say.

I watched the black screen on the wall flicker with pretty lights, unable to make sense of them, but somewhere in my brain I felt a happy buzz. I drifted between the pretty lights and the blackness, unable to fight when either one overtook my thoughts.

It could have been minutes, or hours later when Valentino sat next to me. My brain felt ever so slightly less fuzzy, and I couldn’t feel any pain. Or anything at all, really. Valentino wrapped my hand around a plastic cup and ever so gently, he guided the straw to my mouth.

“Drink, babydoll. That’s it. Good girl.”

I tried to think about what he was doing and slowly, slowly, I tasted the liquid on my tongue.

“My brain is fuzzy.” I tried to say, but it didn’t quite come out right.

Nonetheless, he seemed to understand. I saw him turn to Vox and Velvette. “If she were anyone else, this might be cute. Refreshing to see someone so easily put under the influence.” He ran his hand through my hair. “But honey, this isn’t a good look on you.”

I felt the cup leave my hand and around me the room began to swirl, only this time much, much faster.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to call Lucifer and make sure this is…right.” I heard Valentino say.

Valentino’s voice sounded very far away, and I wondered why he sounded so nervous. Wasn’t he used to this? After all, he told me himself he was the top drug lord in Hell. The thought quickly vacated my mind and I vaguely felt his hand brush against my neck before the darkness yanked me down once again.

Flashes of the next few hours, trying to fight against the restraints that held me down. A prick in my arm, and Lucifer’s voice echoing around me. I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t as the medication overtook me. Fighting monsters both invisible and real. I watched as a faceless angel plunged towards Valentino, carrying him off to someplace I couldn’t reach him. Velvette and Vox in pieces, and Lucifer on his knees, kneeling over a graveyard of white and yellow souls. I yelled, and yelled but no one I could recognize would make it stop. Finally, finally the blackness shaded into gray, and then white.

I sat up, my heart pounding and my body covered in sweat. The crook of my arm had the telltale tape and gauze and I looked around the room frantically as the haze drifted away, leaving a crystal clear image of my bedroom. Next to the bed, Lucifer sat, thumbing through a book. His eyes lit up when I sat up.

“Finally, the princess awakens.”

Valentino stirred next to me and sat up at the sound of my voice. “Princessa. You’re awake.” Relief flooded his tone and he gingerly ran his hand through my hair before pulling me to him.

Lucifer yawned, and stuck a post it note in the middle of his book before it vanished. “So glad you’re alive. There were a few moments where I wasn’t sure that would be the outcome of this whole ordeal. Tell me, how much do you remember and how do you feel? Any pain?”

I stretched my body slowly. Stiff, as though I had been sleeping for way too long definitely, but no pain. I tried to think back, willing my brain to pull out some sort of solid core memory of anything that happened since I swallowed the medication. All that came to mind was blackness, pain, fear and another emotion, one that cracked and crushed my chest and rendered me unable to breathe. I remembered Valentino’s voice somewhere far away and Lucifer’s eyes hovering over me.

“I don’t know what that was, but I never, ever want to go through that again. How long was I out for?” I asked.

Lucifer smiled, “At ah. My questions first. How much do you remember, and how do you feel? Any pain?”

I looked at Valentino and he nodded, his face awash with worry.

“Just blackness, emotions. And not ones I’m eager to feel again, anytime soon. And flashes of you and Val. No pain, but I’m really stiff. I think with a hot shower and some stretching I’ll be back to normal. Now answer my question- how long was I out for?”

Lucifer checked his watch. “Well let’s see. The medication hit your belly at about three oh five yesterday afternoon and it is now almost four in the afternoon today. I’m no math wiz but I would say you were on and off for about twenty five hours.” His tone faded from its usual lighthearted banter to something more serious. “But honestly, how do you feel? You had a much, much worse reaction than I expected.”

“I feel fine. Honestly, it's the best I’ve felt since the start of this whole thing. Why do you both look like I’m going to die any second?”

“Because at one point, I thought you were.” Lucifer said simply, leaning over and planting a kiss on my forehead. “And I cannot tell you how glad I am that I was wrong.” He looked at Valentino begrudgingly, “thankfully, Valentino knows a thing or two about…adverse reactions. He got you through most of it, even though I’m sure you don’t remember.”

I picked at the tape on my arm and Valentino reached over, and gently tugged it off. “No need for that anymore. I gave you fluids about six hours ago, but you were thrashing and fighting so badly you ripped the IV out.” He leaned in and kissed me, cupping my chin. “Princessa, I have never been more scared in my life. I never want to see you like that again.”

“Neither do I. So let’s do our best to ensure that doesn’t happen.” Lucifer added as he stood up. “Now that you’re awake, the first order of business is for you to eat. And then when you’re cleaned up and full, go see Velvette. You four have a busy night ahead. And don’t worry- I have eyes on all.” He paused and looked at me, “glad you’re okay, love. You really did frighten me for a moment.”

And with that he vanished.

#the vees #valentino x reader #valentino x wife #vox x reader #valentino x you #hazbin fluff #valentino #hazbin hotel #the vees x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n

85 notes · View notes

mymainwastoocluttered · 1 year

Text

Healing Kissy (Sebek, Azul)

"My head hurts, can you kiss my forehead so it'll stop?"

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

My head is trying to explode, comfort me, fictional men

— (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

— Sebek Zigvolt

“WHAT?!”

Sebek shuts his mouth with a loud noise at the full body wince from the Prefect that meets his exclamation. He apologizes in a softer voice, both to not aggravate her headache more and to keep with her request to not be too loud inside closed rooms. She accepts his apologies easily, as she tends to do despite his best efforts to teach her to be more assertive, and smiles at him. Usually, her smile would make his heart jump inside his chest, but right now it can only squeeze in worry at the tiredness behind the gesture.

Human beings are just so weak.

So ephemeral.

So… precious.

“Very well, since you’re sick and in pain, I shall help you however necessary.”

Sebek’s kiss is somehow determined like only him can be. It’s firm and it’s sure and so, so comforting.

If “the power of believing” was a legit magic source, Sebek would cure you with that kiss alone. He knows it is most likely just a human superstition, but part of him can’t help but hope it’ll at least alleviate some of your pain.

Will definitely kiss your forehead again if you ask.

Actually, he might offer a kiss even if you don’t complain about headaches. You should accept all of them, not only you’re getting free kisses, but Sebek lightens up with the prospect of helping his second favorite person.

At some point he might get so used to it that he starts just randomly kissing your forehead. Will explain it as “dutifully preventing future headaches”, and that is actually part of the truth. The other part is that he likes kissing your forehead

Kiss his forehead back, he’ll blush so hard but also boast about “being protected against all head ailments”. Will not accept forehead kisses from anyone else other than his mom, Lilia and Malleus (though the last one is not interested).

— (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

— Azul Ashengrotto

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sick, my head hurts. Can you give me a forehead kiss? It’ll make it feel better.”

That is scientifically impossible, Prefect. Healing kisses are not, in fact, a thing. Unless there’s someone with a unique magic that heals people through kisses. That would be an interesting employee to have, in case of emergencies—wait, he’s not supposed to think about that right now. No, right now Azul has something more important to care about: his girlfriend’s wellbeing.

“Very well, for a price, anything can be done.”

“Zuzu, I’m sick. Can’t I get a free kiss just this time?”

“... that can be arranged.”

Literally so soft? Like, this man’s lips are so, so soft and plump? Sir, where are you going with those lips? Who are you kissing?

Well, you. He’s kissing your forehead, and it’s the softest, most gentle kiss you’ve ever gotten. You might get addicted.

Azul is incredibly embarrassed, but he can’t find it in himself to deny a request from you.

Because he’s embarrassed, he’ll only show affection beyond hand holding behind closed doors. Also, he happens to have two eels that love to tease him far too much. So don’t expect kisses to happen a lot.

But he’ll surely give them when you’re alone in a room. There’s no deal and not even need for a reason, he’ll kiss your forehead as soon as he has your ok.

Kiss his forehead back and he might spit some ink. He’s blushing so hard and his hearts are on overdrive. But he wants more. Give him more kisses, please. He loves them.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst x reader #x fem reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader

750 notes · View notes

star-girl69 · 1 year

Text

My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i just wanted to clarify that yes, we are jumping around, but things like kisre having her seizure and the tulkun returning are still gonna happen. i hope you all enjoy!!

(also i think that for this series that jake’s favorite thing to do is to sleep with y/n like literally just on top of him like babygirl wants to be SUFFOCATED)

warnings: swearing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Fourteen- We Are Storms

—-

“Mama? Can I please go to the beach with Kisre?”

Your mother was sort of everything all at once. A mediator, an aggressor, a lover, a fighter. You thought she was so much like you. You thought the two of you were storms, the eyes matching, swirling the same way.

But, you were not born first. Unless your sister died, you would never amount to anything in her eyes. You would never be Tsahìk, never hold a position of power beyond being Ronal’s sister, her daughter.

And for that reason, she thought, why waste her time on you?

Maybe she saw it as a mercy, to let you live how you pleased, while your sister was stuck inside training.

Maybe she just did not like you. You were not even the spare- you were simply just there.

Not too big, not too small, taking up just the right amount of attention and space. Sweet and kind, a good friend like Kisre to keep you occupied. Keep you away from disrupting.

She looks up from the bowl she is stirring, while Ronal stands next to her, eyes watering in the face of the steaming pot.

“Yes,” she says, only sparing you a glance. “Be back before eclipse.”

Then, as if snapped out of a trance, Ronal looks up.

“Can I go too? Please, Mama? You said I made that healing tonic perfectly.”

Now, your mother looks at Ronal, staring at her as if she is the stupidest girl on the planet.

“There is always more to learn.”

Kisre frowns when you emerge alone. She misses Ronal. You miss Ronal. Ronal says she misses you too- you feel her climb into your hammock each night, exhausted from a day of training.

You sleepily tell her about your day, and she runs her hands through your hair, untangling whatever style it was in, and always says how she wishes she could have been there.

You and Kisre drop a shell into the sea, time who can reach it faster. But when you laugh and shout, there is a voice missing.

—-

When Neytiri runs her hands through your hair, it is not the same.

It still feels nice, of course. Still makes you feel warm in your stomach, loved and safe. Protected and happy.

Jake is pressed against your back like a wall, like armor, arm around your waist, and you know no one will hurt you.

Nights are not lonely. Days are not either.

The suns shines bright and burns your eyes, but you find it hard to look at your reflection in the water. You prefer the stormy days, you think. When the water is too choppy to see much.

They want you to talk, Jake and Neytiri, and you can tell each night there is words on their lips, but you say you don’t want to so they don’t.

It wasn’t hard to forgive Jake.

He was your mate, and you loved him, knew him. You See him. He made a mistake, got caught up in the moment, but you realize he is just a storm like you.

You can’t blame him for that.

Tears had filled your eyes when you came back to their mauri, and Tuk had frowned and cupped her hands around her lips, sucking in the air around you before setting it free. When she asked if that took the pain away, you smiled at said it did. A small lie was nothing compared to what you felt.

Jake had apologized like you were a goddess he had upset, speaking and staring at you with such reverence the stars must have been in your eyes.

You forgave him when he kissed your temple.

Neytiri had still smacked him, of course, called him skxawng, and it had managed to bring a small smile to your face.

You have learned that, with a family like this, the days past quick.

Tuk is still so young, when Jake had explained that you were her new mother, she had simply smiled and called you mom the next day.

When she saw the tears fall down your face, she tried to breathe away your pain again, and it took everything in you not cry more, to try and explain to her that they were happy tears.

That, you have found, is the foundation of family. Happiness.

Kiri was also quick to accept you; provided that you kept making those biscuits she liked so much.

Lo’ak was easy to bond with, once he saw how much he parents loved you, and how he could talk to you about Payakan without judgment. He liked learning more about the tulkun, and you told him stories of you and your soul sister, and he would only wistfully look off onto the sea and asked what happened next.

Neteyam was still stiff, but like Lo’ak, he saw how much his parents loved you, how much his sister liked you, and he slowly softened. (Besides, he did dream about those biscuits.)

Jake and Neytiri are simply pure joy, always smiling, seeing you spend time with the children. They always smile when they get to introduce you as their wife, and your lives before each other have quickly bled into one.

Tsireya and Ao’nung come for dinner, Kisre does as well, proclaiming that all the children must call her Aunt Kisre.

She jokes that Jake and Neytiri should be eternally grateful to her, seeing as she was the one to help you realize everything you felt for them.

(They always roll their eyes with a smile on their faces.)

Tonowari says he is most happy for you, and Ronal pretend she doesn’t know you.

You understand that she feels betrayed. But she is still your sister.

—-

“Bye, Y/N!”

“Ah- Lo’ak- aren’t you still grounded?”

He stops at the threshold of the mauri, cursing to himself before turning to you with a smile.

“No?”

“Yes you are!” Tuk shouts accusingly, looking over from where she sits in the hammock, laughing while you sweep the floor beneath her.

“Sorry,” you say, brushing dust and dirt from the floor into a pile. “A few more days, right?”

“I guess,” he mumbles, coming back into the mauri to sit on the floor. He grabs his knife and a stone, sharpens it wordlessly.

He is a storm, like you, so much like you, and you sigh as you watch him. The sun is starting to fall in the sky, and you had thought about making dinner tonight.

“What’s your favorite dinner?”

He looks up, wide eyes. “What?”

“Your favorite dinner. I was going to make dinner tonight anyways- so what’s your favorite?”

“Oooo! Can I help you cook?”

“You weren’t already?” you ask with a smile, sitting next to Tuk. She smiles, legs kicking, looking at Lo’ak expectantly to find out what you’ll be cooking.

He still looks surprised, almost as if he never expected somebody to ask him something like this before. “Uh… roasted sturmbeest, I guess.”

“Then I’ll make that.”

You turn back to Tuk, preparing to tell her about all you’ll need to do, when the brief moment of silence is filled by another.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says, and your name is odd coming from him.

—-

taglist:

@sully-stick-together @corrupt-cadaver420 @jadynchronicle @imthefunniestpersonalive @fangil101 @mashiromochi @rey26 @soothinghummerz @myheartfollower @pwallettes @melodykisses @ghoulfiendz @fanboyluvr @itsyaspwr @khaleesihavilliard @capbrie @nothingfuninthislife @faceaeter @thetrashindrakensroom @makeup-stuff-and-such @my-dearest-agent @miyamuraaaa @xoxovienna @arschbohrer @amazingaries @ssc7514 @milf-lover-23 @w3ird11 @littlexscarletxwitch @tiajk @kuldren @blackgirlwriting @tojigirl @trulyrogers @aeslenya @3okutos-3ig-toe @peterparkeeperer @ambria @homeispandora @hxgemxscles @ripnevillestrevor @amiets2 @reallysparklychaos @ok-boke @dumb-fawkin-bitch @nerd-squad-headquarters @abaker74 @ara-a-bird

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

493 notes · View notes

bookworm551 · 1 year

Text

The Great War | Part 2 | Neteyam Sully x Omatikaya!reader

Summary: You and Neteyam were childhood friends, always looking out for each other, but when the Sky People returned, neither of you could have anticipated the way it would affect your relationship with one another.

A/N: First off, I just want to say that for everyone who enjoyed the first part, I want to give y’all a lil kiss on the forehead. I definitely got carried away (again), so I split what was going to be part 2 into parts 2 and 3, so I’ll have the next one up real soon. Also, in case you can’t tell, I firmly believe that Neteyam’s love language is physical touch. Hope you enjoy!

6.1k words

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

It was ten days before you were allowed outside the camp again. Though you had tried to get out sooner, you were under strict orders to rest from Neteyam and (more convincingly) Mo'at. You were bored out of your mind most of the time, but Tuk had been very sweet to visit you in her abundant free time. Kiri had also taken it upon herself to become your designated healer, much to Neteyam's comfort.

He had visited as often as he could. It was sweet, but you couldn't help but feel like he was hovering somewhat over you. He treated you like you were going to shatter if you so much as stood up. You knew he was just being cautious, but you were starting to feel suffocated in the tent.

Now, you had been given the all-clear to travel out into the forest for the first time. Your side still ached if you stretched too far, but for the most part, you felt fine. You still experienced headaches as a result of hitting your head against the crate, but you didn't want to be coddled any more than you already had been, so you didn't say anything about them.

Walking amongst the vibrant plants, you breathed in the fresh forest scent. It was refreshing to be in an open space after lying for so long in the dimness of the healing tent. You had no real destination in mind as you walked about, you just wanted to get out of the village. Besides, Kiri agreed that stretching your legs and being in the sun would do you some good after your days spent inside.

"Don't overdo it," she warned you as you pulled yourself over a large boulder. Your side ached dully, but you ignored it. "You sound like Neteyam," you called out over your shoulder. "I'll be fine." You heard her chuckle behind you. "If something happens to you, he'll skin me alive," she said.

You rolled your eyes. Even Kiri could see the overprotectiveness of her older brother. It was true though; he would be upset if something happened, which was why you didn't tell him you were going out.

"I want to go up," you told your friend as you stared up at the light dappling the leaves overhead. Catching up to you, Kiri followed your gaze at the canopy above. "We can go slow," she conceded. "But you have to tell me if you're hurting. If something happens, you're going to be back in the healing tents for another 2 weeks."

That was incentive enough for you to be mostly honest with her, but it was hard to be completely truthful when admitting you were in pain just made you feel weak. Before you could start climbing, however, a figure emerged from the brush nearby.

"What are you doing?" Neteyam asked as he caught sight of you up on top of the boulder you just climbed. You huffed in mild exasperation. Of course he was here. You had deliberately left while he was out to avoid his concerned objections.

"Getting some fresh air," you stated simply. "Care to join?"

He shot you and Kiri a look of disapproval. "You should not be climbing," he told you sternly. "You could reopen your wound." You sighed at his warning. You were starting to become annoyed by his constant caution. It was just a few days ago he protested the idea of you walking around, so you knew that at every milestone, you were going to hear some sort of resistance from him.

"She is doing fine," Kiri defended you. "I am with her to make sure she doesn't strain herself." Neteyam, you could tell, was still hesitant to let you out of his sight. "I'm just going around to stretch my legs," you said. "You can come, but you can't stop me from going."

He sighed and shook his head, but you were pleased by the small smile that tugged at his lips. Pulling himself up to where you and Kiri were standing, he said, "I don't think I can stop you from doing anything." You smiled back at him. "I'm glad you see the truth," you replied triumphantly.

The three of you pressed on through the foliage together. It wasn't long before Kiri became distracted by the beauty of the forest. You always found her endless wonder endearing. "How did you know we were out here?" You asked Neteyam as Kiri strayed away from the two of you.

"Tuk," he responded simply. You huffed out a sharp breath, peeved at the betrayal of the youngest Sully. He smirked at your reaction. "She didn't mean to tell," he explained. "She was complaining to a friend about how my grandmother made her stay behind to help her instead of going with you, and I just so happened to hear."

"I see," you replied solemnly. "Then I suppose she is forgiven." There was a brief pause, and you could feel his eyes on you. Meeting his gaze, you saw that he looked a little crestfallen. "You do not have to hide these things from me," he told you gently. You glanced away in discomfort. It wasn't that you were trying to hide things from him, but you just wanted a little break from his constant oversight.

"I know you're worried," you began carefully, "but sometimes, it feels like you are too worried. I am strong and healing well." You gestured to the laceration, now a large scab, that traced across the right half of your stomach. His eyes fixed on it for a moment before he blinked hard and looked away. You caught his moment of discomfort and sighed.

The both of you carried on walking in half-awkward silence. You pulled yourself up onto a large fallen log that was obstructing your path and leaped down onto the lower ground, the impact sending a jolt of pain across your stomach, but you managed to stifle your reaction.

"Did that hurt?" Neteyam asked. Okay, maybe you didn't manage as well as you thought.

"Just a little tight," you dismissed. He looked at you with a concerned gaze, evidently not believing you. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face directly in front of him and grabbed his broad shoulders with both hands. You held him for a moment and stared up into his eyes.

"You are too worried," you told him after a heartbeat. "I am not going to break. I need you to trust me when I say I am fine." You looked up at him pleadingly, keeping your hands resting on his shoulders. He gazed down at you softly with a small sigh. He brought his hands up and wrapped them around your forearms.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, rubbing his thumbs softly back and forth across your skin. "You are right, I am worried about you." You smiled faintly and corrected him, "Too worried." He rolled his eyes before nodding. "Alright, too worried," he conceded. "I will stop."

You nodded your head gratefully. "Thank you," you said, dropping your hands from his shoulders. Neteyam smiled at you, then made an exaggerated thinking face. "Well," he began reflectively, "I will never stop worrying about you. How can I not worry about you when you do stupid things all the time?" You rolled your eyes and shoved him playfully. He laughed.

"And you never listen to me!" He continued as you turned and started walking again. "How am I not supposed to worry?" You couldn't help but smile at that. "I do listen to you," you argued, "when you say something worth listening to."

After that day, you noticed Neteyam's overly cautious behavior diminish. Occasionally throughout the week, he would catch you wincing when you stretched your right arm up too quickly, or he would notice how you rubbed your temple when a migraine hit, but respecting the boundary you set, he never said anything.

A few days after your walk in the forest, you were invited by a handful of your tribesmen close to your age to join them in a morning hunt. You were extremely grateful for the chance to get out and do something more than wander around aimlessly with Kiri. For young adult Na'vi, hunting and foraging were sort of social events amongst friends, so you were eager to join.

As the sons of the Olo'eyktan, Neteyam and Lo'ak were also invited to come with the group. Besides the two Sully boys and yourself, there were three more in the party. Getting ready to go out, you could see the look of unease on Neteyam's face, but he said nothing until the rest of the group made their way toward the edge of the ikran rookery.

"Why don't we go on foot?" He asked. Everyone paused and looked at each other, mildly confused. "Why would we do that?" Lo'ak asked the question everyone else was thinking. Neteyam's eyes shifted to you uneasily, and you clenched your jaw, expecting him to call you out in front of the others.

"Isn't your ikran injured?" He asked you. It was a cover, and you knew it, but at least he didn't outright mention your injury as the reason for wanting to hunt on foot. You gave him a warning look. "I checked on her yesterday. Her injuries have healed nicely," you told him, emphasizing every word of your last sentence pointedly.

He understood your passive statement and held your stare. As subtly as possible, you gave him a look that said, Don't you dare. A beat of tense silence passed between you before he looked away and nodded. Taking your eyes off of him, you looked over at Lo'ak. His eyes were awkwardly glancing back and forth between you and his brother, one of his human-like eyebrows raised. He clearly caught the silent conversation you just had, and you felt your ears warm in embarrassment.

Walking into the rookery, you each called out to your ikran. Kazi descended before you, and you gave her an affectionate rub on the crest of her jaw. Her wings had indeed healed nicely in the time since the accident, and you were eager to take to the skies with her again. You could feel Neteyam's eyes on you as you checked the cinching of your saddle, and when you glanced over at him, you could read the apology on his face.

Huffing out a little sigh, you looked away. Sometimes, you wanted to stay mad at him, but he always made it so hard.

You attached your queue to Kazi and mounted onto her back. The six of you took off of the ground and rose over the trees. Feeling the rushing air around you made you realize just how cramped you've felt since your injury, and you couldn't help but give a few whoops of glee.

The sun shone brightly overhead. Even though you loved the feeling of its warmth on your skin, being in the brightness after spending so much time in the dimness of camp caused your head to hurt some. It didn't help that after 2 weeks of resting, your body wasn't so used to the physical demands of flying anymore. The tension in your core and thighs to stay balanced caused your breathing to become labored after a while, which didn't help with the onsetting headache.

Finally, the group swooped down to a clearing in the trees. There, you dismounted with the rest of the group and tried to hide your breathlessness. Taking your bow and a few arrows, you joined the others in descending to the forest floor. Given the time of year, you were all familiar with the migration habits of the deer-like yerik and knew there would be several in this area.

Jumping down from branch to branch gave you a rush of adrenaline you had been missing for so long. While still in the trees, you and your companions laughed and chatted together. Mekar, one of the hunters among you, was talking about the last mission the war party had flown just a few days prior. "Too bad you were taken out by a human," he told you with a laugh. "You could have seen how much damage we did."

His comment burned. It was embarrassing enough having to be on bed rest for so long, but it didn't help that everyone in the clan was aware of it, too. Already peeved by Neteyam's earlier attempt to coddle you, Mekar's words pushed you deeper into your irritation.

"That's not funny," Neteyam told him sharply. Being the son of Toruk Makto, his words held a lot of weight, so his quick reprimand shut down the other hunter. You moved in irritated silence, thinking about how you've been set back by your injury.

One of the worst consequences of your accident was that you were not able to conduct the Uniltaron trial at your designated time. The Dream Quest requires much mental and physical strength, both of which were affected by your injury. You were keenly aware that you and Lo'ak were the only ones in the group who had not completed the trial, though Lo'ak had nearly a full year left before he was eligible.

Your group finally reached the floor of the forest. You felt out of breath, and you could feel your heart beating hard in your chest which was making your head pound. Taking a few steadying breaths, you closed your eyes for a second, trying to ignore your migraine. When you looked up, you could see that your friends had already started to move in one direction, so you quickly sprinted after them.

You all moved in silence, looking for signs of a nearby herd. Lo'ak found it first, a single hoof print in the dirt. You all followed his lead, and soon enough, you could all see a large gathering of yerik through the foliage.

Lo'ak got first rights to the herd. He made a quick, clean kill of a buck, but as expected, the whole herd scattered as it fell. You all shot after the fleeing creatures, but Mekar was the only other hunter to catch one in the haunches, moving in swiftly to make a clean kill with his knife.

As you and the others gathered your arrows, you noticed a chittering noise in the distance, the sound of a forest hen. Perking up, you listened closely and turned in the direction it came from.

"There are forest hens over there," you told your friends, pointing in the direction of the noise. They listened attentively until another chittering noise echoed quietly in the distance. "Yeah," one of the other hunters, Meya, began, "but I would rather stay on the yerik." She pointed at where the herd had run off in the opposite direction of the forest hens.

The rest of the group deliberated until you all agreed on a strategy. Lo'ak and Mekar would take their kills back up to their ikran and try to find more quarry, Meya and the other member of the party, Nazátu, would pursue the herd, and you and Neteyam would go after the forest hens. You would all reconvene back at the top of the canopy by the time of high noon.

You and Neteyam set off in the direction of the forest hens. You were grateful to separate from the others since you felt that you didn't have to hide just how out of shape you were in front of Neteyam. You both kept a brisk pace through the brush, moving as silently as possible.

"You seem to be holding up well," he commented. "I should not have doubted you earlier." You smiled gratefully at him. "My head does hurt a little bit," you admitted. "But otherwise, I feel fine."

It was a half-truth. The whole truth was that your head hurt a lot. The pounding in your head hadn't diminished as you had hoped, but you refused to let it affect your ability to hunt.

You both reverted to careful silence as you stayed alert for the sounds of the hens. There were a few silvery feathers you found on the ground to encourage your tracking, and you carried on quickly in the direction they led to. You were eager to get this hunt over with now that your migraine had settled in deep into your temples.

A flutter through the trees caught your attention, and there a few yards ahead, you finally saw a flock of about 10 fowl-like creatures. Some were on the ground, but a few were walking along some low-hanging branches. Forest hens were bulky and had limited flight capabilities. They could be found scratching at the forest floor or low tree branches to eat any insects they could find.

Coming up beside you, Neteyam motioned at the ones on the ground and then pointed at himself. He was telling you that he would aim for the low ones while you could go for one in the branches. You nodded and notched an arrow. You aimed for the fattest bird you saw, and in sync, both you and Neteyam shot and hit your targets.

In a frantic flurry, the remaining hens took flight higher into the canopy. You managed to reset an arrow on your bow and shoot another one down as it was flying off before it could disappear with the rest of the flock.

Stepping out of your cover, you and Neteyam retrieved your quarry and arrows. "Looks like I'm beating you," you teased. He rolled his eyes at you playfully. "Show off," he muttered, tying his hen onto his hip. "Let's keep after them." You hesitated. Now that you had a prize to bring back, you were anxious to leave. You didn't want to raise any concern from Neteyam, but your migraine was really starting to get out of hand. Though you'd been having bad headaches since your accident, this was by far the worst one.

Despite your pain, you nodded at his suggestion wordlessly. You slung your hens over your shoulders and trekked after your friend. It didn't take you long before you caught up to the flock again. Aiming again, you both shot at the birds, hitting them cleanly.

As before, the rest of the flock scattered. This time, Neteyam got another shot in and took down another hen. He gave you a cheeky smile. "Now we're even," he said triumphantly. You tried to smile back, but your head was pounding painfully, causing you to falter.

He noticed your wince. "Is everything okay?" He asked in concern. You closed your eyes tightly for a moment and nodded. Looking up at him, his gaze was full of worry. You thought about what you had said to him in the forest a few days prior. I need you to trust me when I say I am fine. Well, now, you weren't so fine, and you felt you owed him your honesty.

"My head hurts," you admitted quietly. "It really, really hurts." You ground your teeth in pain. "Like an arrow through my head."

Setting his bow down, Neteyam put one hand at the base of your neck and looked into your eyes with care. "How long has it been hurting like this?" He asked with worry. You thought about it for a second. "It started when we left the village," you confessed, "but it did not get bad until we started tracking the yerik."

You waited for a lecture from him on how you should've told him sooner, but it never came. "Do you get them a lot?" He asked gently. You nodded reluctantly before clarifying, "Usually not this bad, though." He gave a small nod, and you could see all the concerned thoughts in his head, but he didn't say any of them. Instead, he lifted his hand from your shoulder to briefly cradle the side of your head. You leaned into his touch and sighed as the pain pulsed in your temples.

"Let's go," he said softly as he dropped his arm back to his side. "We can try to find Lo'ak and Mekar to let them know we're leaving." You nodded, disappointed in yourself for not being able to withstand the headache. How were you supposed to return to fight if you couldn't even manage an easy morning hunt?

Picking up your kills, the two of you headed back in the direction of where your ikran were waiting. The journey back up to the top seemed longer than you remembered, but maybe that was just the fact that going up is harder than coming down, especially with a raging migraine. Eventually, you found yourself at the top, but neither Lo'ak nor Mekar were anywhere to be found.

"Are you okay to go by yourself?" Neteyam asked. "If we both go, the others will think something has happened." You nodded. "I know, I'll be fine." He didn't look happy to let you go alone, but you took off on Kazi, leaving him behind as he watched your figure disappear over the trees.

When you made it back to the village, you immediately headed over to the healing tents, but to your sore disappointment, neither Mo'at nor Kiri were anywhere to be found. You thought about asking around, but you didn't want anyone to know you were in pain, and your pride won out as usual. You looked in one of the many baskets lying around the tent and found a bitter plant root that you knew would help you fall asleep.

You took and ate it as quickly as you could and washed it down with water. Then, you made your way to where your encampment was situated. You laid down on your sleeping mat, curled into a ball, and held your head until the root took effect, and you drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Waking up, the pain had diminished significantly. You propped yourself upright and drank some water you had stored. Exiting your tent, it didn't take long before you found Neteyam, Lo'ak, and the others from the hunting party sitting together skinning their game. They must have returned not long ago, meaning it was just past high noon.

"Hey," Lo'ak called out as he noticed your approach, "you feeling alright?" You looked at Neteyam sharply. He subtly shook his head, silently telling you that he hadn't told them the reason why you left. "Yeah," you replied casually, "my body just isn't quite used to all the activity yet, so I came back early." Lo'ak nodded understandingly, and the rest of the group seemed to find your excuse acceptable. You shot Neteyam a grateful look, and he smiled softly.

"These are some nice birds," Meya complimented, nodding at the forest hens you and Neteyam had hunted. "Thanks," you replied sincerely, sitting down to clean them. You all worked to prepare your own game, talking and laughing in easy companionship for the rest of the afternoon.

Three days later, you were invited back to participate in the war meetings. You were eager to prove yourself again, and even more so to destroy as many humans as you could. You felt confident in your abilities, especially since you hadn't had even a minor headache since your hunting trip. There were a few reconnaissance missions that you flew with no action, but after gathering enough information, the Olo'eyktan believed it was time for another offensive attack.

You sat and watched as Jake outlined the plan for the next attack on the Sky People's weapons containment center. After a detailed description of the plan, Jake finished up his briefing with a nod and, "Dismissed." You all stood up together, and you started making your way toward Neteyam.

You called out to him to get his attention. He turned towards you, and you jogged to catch up to him. Approaching, you noticed the bizarre look on his face. He seemed startled out of deep thought. You couldn't deny that Jake's plan seemed bold, but you knew that you and the other warriors were more than capable of carrying it out. You opened your mouth to say something, but you noticed that Neteyam was looking past you at someone.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" The voice of the Olo'eyktan was right behind you. You whipped around to face your leader in surprise. "Forgive me," you said respectfully and stepped out of the way to allow him to speak with his son.

"No, no," he said to you, glancing at Neteyam for a moment before looking back at you. "I want to speak with you." You felt your stomach tighten with sudden anxiety. "Oh," was all you could say. You glanced back at Neteyam, but he already had his back turned to you and was walking away.

"Listen," Jake began, "I know you are eager to join the party, and you are a fierce warrior." You felt your stomach sink with his words. It seemed that he could see the anxiety on your face because he sighed and glanced around in discomfort. "I think it's best that you remain behind," he said finally.

You felt your heart drop.

"What?"

Jake sighed again. "I need you to stay behind," he repeated. You shook your head faintly. You felt dazed, and your head started to ache for the first time since the hunt. "I am healed," you insisted urgently. "And my ikran is as well." He looked at you unconvinced. "I am well!" You repeated, gesturing to the fresh scar on your stomach.

Jake shook his head. "Listen," he said in a low voice, "I know what it is like when it feels like your head is going to split apart, okay? I know how it feels, and I know how distracting and debilitating it can be in a moment of action."

You were paralyzed, unable to say anything.

"You are a great fighter," Jake repeated, "but I need you to be all there when we fight. Any other condition and you become a liability to yourself and the others."

You felt like your chest was tightening. "No," you whispered desperately. "I can still fight." Your throat tightened as you fought off tears. Jake looked down at you regretfully. "I'm sorry," he said resolutely, "but I have made up my mind. If you are suffering from migraines, you should stay back."

You looked up at him in confusion. "But how..." you trailed off in the middle of your question and your blood ran cold.

Only one person knew.

The realization hit you like an angstik. He told. He told.

You looked away from the clan leader and stared at where Neteyam was just standing moments ago, trying to process what you'd just heard. How could he do that to you? The pain of Neteyam's betrayal quickly turned into boiling anger that filled your chest. Jake placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, but you felt numb. "I'm sorry, kid," he said, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"Am I dismissed?" you managed to ask finally, not able to look the Olo'eyktan in the eye. "Yes, dismissed," he answered. You turned and walked away. For a moment, you walked aimlessly away from the war council, all your focus was directed at not crying in public, and the effort it took increased the intensity of your headache. The very thing that prevented you from fighting for your people.

With that thought, your hurt, confusion, and anger narrowed in your mind to point at one person: Neteyam. You broke into a brisk sprint towards his family's tent. You didn't think about what you would say to him or what you would do if his other family members were present. You didn't even really have any thoughts, just rage.

You burst into the tent. There he was, looking to be in the middle of packing some of his supplies and speaking to someone. When he looked up at you as you entered, his expression immediately turned to guilt. The sight of him caused tears to refill in your eyes, which just made you angrier.

In a flash, you crossed the floor of the tent and shoved him as hard as you could. He stumbled back but quickly regained his balance. "How could you?" you seethed. You had meant to scream it, but you were afraid that your voice would betray you if you raised it above a whisper. Neteyam raised one arm in front of him between you as a pacifying gesture, his fingertips a hair's breadth from your collarbone.

"Kiri, would you please give us a moment?" he asked the other person in the tent without looking away from you. You gave Kiri's sitting form a quick glance before returning your glare to Neteyam, but it was enough for you to see the startled expression on your friend's face.

"What is going—"

"Now," Neteyam punctuated with force.

Without another word, Kiri hurriedly stood up and walked out. With his sister gone, you smacked his raised arm away from yourself. You were fuming and didn't even know where to start with your anger. "Your father has grounded me from the mission," you told him and pointed an accusatory finger at him, "because of you."

Neteyam clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before speaking. "It is for your safety. If you are not well, you should not be flying during a dangerous miss—"

"I am well," you interrupted angrily. "I am well, and I can fly during a dangerous mission. You had no right to tell him what is not your concern. You have no right to interfere with anything." Your voice was getting louder now, the white-hot anger you felt in your chest burned in the words you spoke.

Neteyam scoffed quietly and looked at you with a scowl that would have chilled you if you hadn't already been so angry with him. "You are not well," he countered in a low, hard voice. "I saw you hunting. You were in so much pain, you couldn't even manage to focus on the trail. How is that supposed to make me feel knowing you wished to return to battle?" He gestured loosely to the entrance of the tent as though the battle was right outside.

"That was one time, Neteyam!" you shouted at him in frustration. "And now I can't join the mission because of a headache I had on a hunt." "But it was not just one time, was it?" he retorted in an accusatory tone. "You have had migraines since your accident, but you have been keeping them secret from everyone."

"No, I should have kept them a secret from everyone," you spat, tears returning to your eyes. "But I was a fool and told you instead. I trusted you." He flinched slightly at your cutting comment, but he didn't back down. "You have become a liability to yourself and the other warriors," he stated matter-of-factly. "I did the right thing and told my father to inform him of your weakness.

Weakness. That stung worse than anything he could've said to you.

Immediately, Neteyam realized what he had said. "No, I did not mean to—"

"Is that how you see me?" You cut him off quietly, voice filled with pain. "Weak?" You felt a single tear overcome all of your effort to withhold it and slide down your cheek. Neteyam shook his head apologetically and took a step toward you, but you took a step back away from him. "That is not true," he insisted gently. "I did not mean to say that."

You wanted to believe him, but memories of his behavior flashed through your mind over the past few weeks, and anger and hurt stirred in your chest. "But it is true," you accused as you glared up at him, wiping the tear off your cheek in anger. "You have been treating me like a helpless child ever since we invaded the Sky People's base."

Neteyam clenched his jaw and looked away from you in frustration. You continued yelling at him. "You have been consumed with a desire to control my every move ever since. I shouldn't wander too far into the forest alone. I shouldn't climb too high into the trees. I shouldn't ride Kazi anymore." With every sentence, you felt your anger and frustration melt into hurt and sadness, and you could feel more hot tears falling from your eyes. "And now I cannot fight anymore. I cannot fight because you think I'm weak!"

"You almost died!" Neteyam shouted.

You started and stood in mute surprise in front of him, all of your anger replaced by pure shock. He had never yelled at you before. After all of the strain that your relationship had been placed under, the snide comments, the frustrated arguments, he had never once raised his voice above an angry reprimand, and honestly, it was frightening.

"You almost died!" he repeated, still shouting. "And I could do nothing! Nothing!" His chest was heaving, and he glared down at you with so much anger and pain, it made you take a step back. He noticed the step, and it seemed to bring him out of his emotional outburst somewhat. He turned away from you and paced a few steps heatedly around the tent. You watched in mute shock.

"I cannot let you go too far into the woods alone or climb too high or ride your ikran because every second you are out of my sight, all I can see is the image of you bleeding out, unconscious, on the ground." You could see the tension in his whole body, his hands balled into fists at his sides as he spoke. He looked over at you after a moment, and you saw the anguish on his face as he recalled the memory. "I thought you were dead," he whispered in a taut voice. "And that was the worst moment of my life."

You were so overwhelmed that you couldn't stand to look at him anymore. Now, amongst the betrayal and anger you had been feeling, guilt stirred in your stomach, leaving the taste of bile in your throat. This was too much. You were feeling too many things to think rationally or come up with an argument. And your head hurt so much.

Neteyam heaved a regretful sigh, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. You had never seen him cry before. He crossed over to you, and even if you had wanted to back away, you felt rooted to the spot. Coming in closely, he grabbed your face with both hands. For one breathless moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he just held you and stared at your face longingly.

"I do not think you are weak," Neteyam muttered finally, breaking the tense silence. "But you...you are my weakness. I am sorry I betrayed your trust, but I cannot see you harmed again. I will not allow it."

You didn't say anything. You couldn't say anything. You had reached your emotional limit. Your heart ached as you took in his image. He was strong and stern and beautiful, and you wished again for the millionth time that the war had never come to your home, had never come between you.

You sighed finally and shook your head. "You do not get to decide my fate for me," you said flatly, pulling away from his touch. "You do not have the right." Without waiting for an answer, you walked out of the tent.

Right outside, Kiri, Lo'ak, and Tuk were sitting together. They had obviously been listening to your fight, and the way they scrambled to stand did not make them appear any more innocent. You sighed and turned the other way, not wanting to talk to anybody at the moment. Kiri called your name, but you ignored her and walked away as quickly as you could.

The siblings stood in the darkness for a moment, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Then, Lo'ak decided to go in and check on his brother. He walked in cautiously and found him with his eyes squeezed shut as he rubbed his forehead in exasperation. Hearing Lo'ak enter, Neteyam looked over at his brother with a burning glare.

"Bro, what did you do?" his younger brother asked with concern. Neteyam let out a deep sigh. After a second, he responded, "The right thing." Lo'ak was unconvinced, and so was Neteyam.

Part 3

#neteyam sully #neteyam angst #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar the way of water #avatar #loak sully #kiri sully #atwow #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

431 notes · View notes

babyblue711 · 9 months

Text

Redemption

Will (Salad Days) x Reader - Part 3 Part 1, Part 2 Summary: After a devastating loss, it's your turn to help Will navigate his grief during a difficult time. Your bond continues to grow as you lean on each other for support. Words: 6.3K

Warnings: NSFW, smut, language, sexual content (18+), mention of death, loss, grief, depression A/N: Here's Part 3! I will never be able to thank you all enough for the love and support this fic has received. I have one more chapter planned after this! Thank you again to my incredible beta readers @megatardisbaby and @arcielee. *There's an additional note at the end of this chapter. Dividers by @firefly-graphic

You jolt awake and blink into your dark bedroom, at first uncertain to what has awoken you. All is calm, the room around you remains shrouded in darkness, the faint light of dawn only just filtering through the curtains of the window. Half asleep, your brain feels like mush, barely functioning but you register that your phone is buzzing. You fumble to answer the call, recognizing Will's name flashing on the screen; concern spears through your chest as he’s never called you at this hour before.

“Will,” you mumble into the phone, “What’s wrong?”

“Y/N!” his voice panicky and instantly your heart jumps into your throat and your eyes snap open, awake and alert. “Y/N,” he says again, his voice trembling in distress. “I can’t get her to wake up…Nan won’t wake!”

The wheels start to turn in your head as you leap out of bed. “Will, call an ambulance, I’m on my way!” You’ve never thrown on clothes faster in your whole life as you rush to Will’s place and arrive just in time to see him climb into the ambulance as they pull away. You follow them to A&E, dread curdling in the pit of your stomach.

At the hospital, you clutch at Will’s hand, offering him what reassurance you can as you wait together in a private room, the anxiety and fear so palpable you can almost taste it in the air. Time stands still until the doctor finally emerges and delivers the devastating news: Nan has passed away peacefully in her sleep and there wasn’t anything more they could do for her.

Your worst fears confirmed, you turn in time to see Will crumple beside you as the last of his strength gives out, his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. The wail that comes from him is almost inhuman and you immediately wrap him into an embrace. You don’t remember the doctor leaving the room as you hold onto him, rocking him, trying to console him with words of comfort that you know mean little and less in the moment. You cannot stop the tears that flow freely down your face as well, sharing in his grief and pain. There isn’t anything you can do to stop the tide of grief that washes over you both, dragging you down below the surface, back to the bottom of the ocean.

Will sobs into his hands, deep wracking breaths that shudder his whole body. Nan was more than just a grandmother to him: she was a source of love and stability, a figure he cherished with all his heart. With her passing, a chapter of his life comes to an end, leaving behind an ache that words cannot fully heal. You still had your mum and dad, but what did Will have? Your love for him could never replace the solid foundation of the love of a parent or grandparent.

You shush and coo into his ear while rubbing his back, as you know how he feels in this moment, the way heartsickness causes your skin to crawl and you want to escape the pain but there’s nowhere to go, trapped inside your own head.

Nan’s words, spoken almost six months before, seem to reverberate in your head as you hold him and cry in that cold, desolate room.

“Now you be sure to always take care of my boy as I know he will take care of you,” you can still hear her voice as surely as if she spoke the words right next to you.

I will Nan, you say to yourself, not sure exactly who you are speaking to at this point, I always will.

Head bowed, you breath deep and slow.

Time blurs; grief has a way of warping reality.

As you sit in the pew, you can hear the priest’s voice as he drones on during the service, but the words simply pass over you, incomprehensible. You’ve tried to be strong for Will, but the truth was that Nan’s passing had affected you too, not only with her loss, but the empathetic pain in your chest as you witnessed his anguish and misery.

The crowd of well-wishers buzzes around you with their hushed murmurs, a blend of familiar faces and strangers offering their condolences and heartfelt hugs. You react automatically, expressing gratitude for their attendance and support, but your heart weighs heavy.

Beside you, Will sits like a solemn statue, dressed in all black. Even in the midst of grief, you can't help but admire how handsome he looks in his fitted suit, but you wish with all your heart that his attire was meant for a joyous occasion, not one so sorrowful.

It is evident that Will is navigating the funeral on autopilot, his emotions tightly restrained, his expression made even more severe by the sharp angles of his face. You feel a stabbing pain in your heart, knowing that he is carrying the immense burden of bidding farewell to the woman who had been like a second mother to him.

At the gravesite, you watch him place a single, white lily on her casket as he kneels, whispering a few words as he says his goodbye, a sense of finality settles over the gathering. Your black dress flutters in the cold breeze causing you to shiver slightly as he returns to your side, his hand seeking yours, and you squeeze it tightly, hoping to transfer some of your strength with your grip.

The ceremony comes to a close and the mourners slowly disperse, leaving behind a sense of emptiness and longing. As you both walk away from the gravesite, hand in hand, you know that this is just the beginning of a long and challenging road towards healing for Will.

Since her passing, Will had stayed with you at your mum and dad’s house as he couldn’t face going back home without Nan there to greet him. You were thankful for your parent’s support and the fact that they loved Will like a son. They had been instrumental at getting you both through the last few days and the funeral planning process, and you couldn’t have been more appreciative of their unwavering love and care.

Will was struggling. Once his tears had dried, an eerie calm had settled over him, a numbness that you couldn’t seem to penetrate. Having been intimately acquainted with profound loss yourself, you recognized this stage of grief. You saw it in the haunted, faraway look in his eyes. You saw it with every shallow breath he took. You saw it in the way he barely functioned. He slept a lot but was never rested, he picked at his plate of food, but was never truly hungry.

Your mum and dad made it clear he was welcomed at your home for however long he needed to stay, but he chose to return to his own home the day after the funeral, a week after her passing. Anxiety and apprehension gripped your heart when you thought about him staying there by himself, but you wanted to give him the space he needed to grieve as well.

When the first weekend arrived after the funeral, you couldn't bear the thought of him facing it alone so you asked if you could stay with him for a couple of days, and to your relief, he agreed without hesitation. After work on Friday, you hastily packed a bag, determined to be a source of comfort during his time of need.

Upon arrival, you notice that the house is much the same as before, but it was clear Will didn’t have the heart to maintain small things like dishes or laundry. Determined to provide some semblance of normalcy and care, you brought dinner with you – fish and chips, a small gesture to ensure he had a decent meal that evening, even if it was just a simple one. The warmth of your presence and the aroma of the food filled the small kitchen as Will laid silverware on the table for the meal.

You divide his portion onto a paper plate and set it down in front of him. Silently, but companionably, you eat quietly for a little while, until you can’t stand it anymore and you have to break the silence.

“How have you been feeling, Will?” you are hesitant to ask because of course you know the answer, but you want to reassure him that he has an open channel of communication, to confide in you, no matter how much time has passed.

He stares down at his food, chewing thoughtfully for a few moments before answering. He takes a deep breath. “Well...some days I wake up and feel ok, but then other’s I can barely get out of bed in the morning,” his voice is low, morose as he picks at his food. “I just miss her is all….” he trails off quietly. “She was the reason to get up in the morning…it was my job to look after her…” he adds.

Even though you had expected this response, your heart still clenches at his words and you wish with all your might that you could take away his pain.

“I know, Will, I know…you did such a good job caring for her…” you reassure him because you know in the back of his mind he harbors some guilt that he had been home when she passed but couldn’t have done more to prevent it.

You continue, “And…it’s perfectly normal to feel ok sometimes too…don’t feel guilty about that. You know that Nan would have wanted you to be happy,” you reach out and grab his hand that’s resting on the table, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s a process, as you know…you won’t feel better overnight.”

“Yeah, I ‘suppose..” he says, “I just don’t want to end up like before…when I lost Mum and Dad.”

He looks at you with anxious eyes. You were both so young when his parents passed; despite the years that had gone by, you knew he still felt their loss every day. It was a tumultuous period in his life that had led him down a dark path, getting into serious trouble, his rebellious teenage spirit perhaps searching for a sense of invincibility that you both knew now didn’t exist now that you were older.

“You won’t, Will, you aren’t 16 years old anymore. You've grown, you've learned…you've become so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You have a better foundation to cope now than when you did before...” you trail off, trying to comfort him. “And you’ll always have me.”

Your eyes meet across the table and you inexplicably feel a spark zing through you as you share a moment of understanding. He sighs. “Yeah, that’s true,” he squeezes your hand back and glances at you again, eyes still anxious, sad. “I know I haven’t said it much, but I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me these last few weeks.”

You melt; you didn’t need his thanks, you knew that he appreciated you, but it warmed your heart anyway. “You don’t have to thank me, Will,” you say softly as you bring his hand up to your lips and kiss the back of it, desperate to let him know how much he means to you, that you didn’t need him to worry about you at this moment. He gives you a small smile at the gesture. “Now, please eat because you look like you need a good meal.”

With renewed vigor, he manages to finish his plate and you feel glad that you managed to have a real and genuine conversation about his feelings. But as evening progresses, he becomes more and more sullen and withdrawn again. You ask if he’d like to shower with you before bed, a rare treat that you didn’t get to enjoy with each other very often. He nods and follows you to the bathroom.

Naturally, your mum calls to check on you at the most inopportune time just as you were about to get undressed. You tell Will that you just want to reassure her that you are both fine, and you’ll join him in the shower in a second.

After a quick conversation with your mum, you undress, hearing the spray of the shower and head into the bathroom, where you are met with a devastatingly sad sight. You can see Will through the glass door of the shower, standing there, head facing the shower, bowed against the spray of water, unmoving; he looks like he’s trying to drown. Although he was always naturally on the thin side, you see his ribs move clearly under his skin as he breathes shallowly, you wonder idly how much weight he’s lost in such a short amount of time. Your heart catches in your throat as you observe his deteriorated state.

“Will?” you ask tentatively, “Are you alright?”

No response. No acknowledgement. You might as well not even have spoken. You step into the shower behind him, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.

You don’t know what else to do. You wrap your arms around him from behind and press your cheek into his warm back, the water cascading down upon you too. You hold him like that, unmoving, feeling his ribs move beneath your arms with the rise and fall of his breath.

Finally, he seems to come out of his revere and turns to look down at you. He reaches for the shampoo.

“Here, let me,” you say, gently, taking the shampoo bottle from him.

His eyes flicker and you see him nod, almost imperceptibly.

Pouring the shampoo into your palm, he bends down in order to help you reach as you gently massage his scalp with your fingertips. He starts breathing more evenly, his shallow breaths dissipating, and you notice his eyes close at your touch. He sighs deeply, his hands slide down to grip your hips.

After rinsing the shampoo, you work the conditioner through his hair and, while that’s soaking, you wet the washcloth you had brought in with you and start by gently wiping his face. This seems to get his attention and he makes eye contact with you, amusement dancing in his eyes. You wonder idly if he ever washes his face; he’s always had nice skin. Men, you silently curse to yourself. Irresistibly, you lean up and give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

After his face, you wash the rest of his body, scrubbing diligently as if trying to scrub his pain away; he seems to enjoy his back being washed the most as he leans into your hand as you scrub. Helping him bathe is an intimate act, but in this moment, it is not driven by desire or passion, only an expression of care, a way to offer solace, hoping that the simple act of washing away the physical exhaustion will somehow alleviate the emotional burden he bears.

He finally seems to come alive again as he rinses the conditioner out of his hair and you take the opportunity to wash yourself.

“My turn,” he says, reaching for the shampoo. Now his fingers are in your hair and you can’t even begin to describe how good it feels. He works the shampoo all the way down to the ends of your hair, then brings his long fingers up to massage your neck and shoulders. You lean back against him, enjoying his touch as hot water pours over you. After your hair is rinsed, he turns you around, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes close and you breathe simultaneously with him, steady and deep once again.

“Thank you,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of the pounding water. You open your eyes and look up into his beautiful big blues. Rather than respond, you stand on tiptoe and give him another light kiss on the lips. He returns it, but it’s without heat, just a kiss of tender affection full of gratitude.

You and Will haven’t been intimate since the passing of his grandmother, but you knew first hand the way overwhelming grief and depression takes a toll on your sex drive. You didn’t want to rush him, but you did secretly hope that this moment might have turned into something more until he shuts the water off and steps out, grabbing you each a fluffy towel to dry off. You aren’t upset but you can’t deny that your body misses him and his touch. By the time you get done combing and drying your hair and doing your skincare routine, he has long since departed the bathroom.

You open the door and see him already laying in bed, his back facing you, dressed only in a t-shirt and boxers.

You join him in bed, sliding down in the covers next to him, facing him. He doesn’t say anything except to look upon your face, and you are both content to stare at each other, not speaking. You don’t need to. Your presence is a comfort to each other enough without needing words.

You start tracing patterns on Will’s arm, admiring the moles that dot his skin, connecting them with your fingertip like creating a new constellation. As you soothe him with your touch, he begins talking quietly, sharing stories from his childhood, reminiscing about Nan. He chuckles fondly.

“Remember the first night you stayed here…the morning after?” he asks, an amused grin lifting the corners of his lips.

You want to die, re-living the memory.

“Of course,” you snort, “how could I forget?” and you smile despite your previous embarrassment. The scene floods your memory again…

Upon entering the kitchen the next morning, you find Will serving Nan tea, a plate of buttered toast already on the table. She doesn’t seem surprised to see you there, as you sit down at the table next to her, you look down self consciously, realizing that you have put on Will’s clothes.

“Oh, Y/N!” she says happily, “I thought I heard your voice last night,” she smiles sweetly, giving you a knowing look.

Will blanches, almost spilling his Nan’s tea as he sets it down in front of her. He quickly returns to the tea kettle and busies himself with your cup of tea, pretending he hasn’t heard. Your heart jumps into your throat, mortified that she must have heard your unbridled cries of pleasure in the middle of the night and now you want to die of shame right then and there.

You panic slightly, not knowing what to say and decide to follow Will’s lead and pretend you didn’t hear what she just said.

“Uh, yeah Will and I got in late last night, Nan, we’re sorry to have woken you,” you mumble, not meeting her gaze as Will sets your tea in front of you.

“Oh that’s alright, love, it sounded like you had a good time,” she smiles smugly as she sips her tea and raises her eyebrows at her grandson. You know for a fact she is torturing you both on purpose. Will takes his seat and says nothing, wilting under her gaze a little as he sips his tea, his face beat red.

Your eyes meet his briefly and you immediately look away, the guilt between you two is palpable, and you’re not sure if you want to cry or laugh at that moment.…

You and Will snicker at the memory shared.

“Nothin’ ever got by Nan,” Will chuckles nostalgically, remembering the look of horror on your face and the amused look on Nan’s.

“Yeah, good ol’ Nan,” you sigh in contentment, still chortling lightly.

You talk for a long time that night, reconnecting with each other again as the memories seem to weave new threads into your relationship, bonding you, strengthening your ties to one another. For the first time in a while, you see a glimmer of the old Will, before his grief had weighed so heavily upon his heart. He falls asleep before you, and you can’t help but to watch his face as he relaxes into slumber, his pain fading away, smoothing his features. You hope that he has an untroubled, peaceful sleep as you curl next to him and sigh, breathing in his scent as your eyelids get heavy and you drift off too.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. As a part of Nan’s estate, she left Will everything she owned. He now had her house, her car, and her inheritance, though he would have traded it all in an instant to have her back, to hear her voice one more time, to feel her reassuring presence.

Will had good days and bad days. He was…different after her passing. Although there were moments of normalcy and he welcomed you to stay with him at his house as often as you could, you felt Will’s cool mask return, hard and unbothered, but you knew it was just a facade to shield his vulnerable heart. You tried not to take his coolness personally; you knew everyone processed grief differently. He had, also, been instrumental in helping you heal during a very difficult time in your life, and now you hoped to do the same for him in return; you knew patience was key.

You respected his coping mechanisms, but, after a while, your heart missed him and the void left by his emotional withdrawal weighed on you, creating a bittersweet ache in your chest. You missed bantering together, his teasing smile, the feeling of being connected to his deepest thoughts and feelings, and, oh, how you yearned to be physically intimate again too.

You missed his touch, the weight on his body on top of yours, the wholeness you could only feel when he was inside you. You never wanted to seem callous or inconsiderate but the lack of intimacy was starting to wear on you; up until that point, you and Will had had a healthy sex life. You had a vibrator but hated the thought of using it, because he always did it better. But you would never rush him in his healing process given that you knew exactly how he felt. In the depths of your own depression, you swore you would never love nor have sex ever again. So you were patient and you knew he would come back to you, given enough time that he needed to heal from his immense loss.

And you were right; it started with a few extra kisses here and there, hand holding while walking down the street, a tight embrace from behind while you were doing dishes in the evening. Each gesture, though seemingly small, was a sign of the gradual return of the Will you had come to know and love.

He spoke more freely now, sharing the happenings of his day and thoughts, occasionally telling a joke or two, and you felt your emotional connection becoming whole again as he shared what was on his heart. You smiled to yourself at his progress, knowing that, although time eases the pain, it never truly leaves us. You were glad to see him come out of the dark tunnel on his own and reach for the sunlight on the other side.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, the house is relatively dark and quiet, spring storms have rolled in consistently throughout the day. Bored and without much to do, you decide to lay down for a nap but the continuous roll of thunder has kept you up thus far. The window is cracked open and the curtains sway in a gentle breeze, the soft whoosh of the rain and distant rumble of thunder is like a lullaby, but you still couldn’t find sleep.

You hear the door creak open and Will slides down into the bed next to you, he hooks an arm around your hips and pulls you back against his body. His hand slides over your bare leg and he realizes that you only have a t-shirt and underwear on under the covers.

“What are you doing?” he whispers into your ear.

You giggle at the sensation, shoulders coming up to protect your ear from his ticklish breath.

“I’m trying to sleep…” you say. “Wanna join me for a nap?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he says. “Or…maybe there’s something else we can do to help you sleep,” he whispers suggestively.

He starts trailing his fingertips up and down your leg, over your hip, under your shirt, across your ribs. You stretch and mewl like a cat against his body, relishing in his touch. It had been so long since you had been intimate, your body literally thrums from his attention as his warm hands caress your soft skin.

He’s content to stroke you for a little while, tension building, when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so…absent, recently,” he says softly into your ear, you hear what sounds like guilt in his tone.

You roll over on your back to look at him as he props himself up on his elbow, big puppy dog eyes staring into yours. Your eyebrows knit together.

“Will, you never have to apologize. I know how you’ve been feeling,” you say, as you gently cup his cheek.

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “I just didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want you anymore,” he says sincerely and you appreciate his openness, showing you his heart.

“I know that...probably better than anyone. It’s okay, Will. You know I will always be here for you…however you need me. I’m here,” you say quietly, reassuring him.

He takes your hand that's caressing his face and kisses your palm.

“I know,” he whispers.

He leans down and captures your lips with his own and you instantly melt into him, sighing softly into his mouth. You turn towards him, pressing yourself against his chest as you grab the back of his hair, feeling desperate to have him. He responds, arms encircling you to hold you closer as his tongue gently pushes into your mouth. You grant him access willingly, enjoying the familiarity of the taste of his tongue as it slides over yours. You feel the slick forming between your thighs almost immediately.

You suck on his bottom lip as you feel his hand slide down your side before he takes hold of a chunk of your ass and squeezes, kneading lightly. You can’t contain yourself anymore, so needy for him as you hook a leg over his hip and grind into his pelvis. You feel him smirk under your lips.

“Missed me much?” he whispers, amusement in his voice.

“I think you missed me too,” you whisper back seductively, as you slide a hand in between your bodies and stroke his length through his sweatpants; he’s already hard and wanting.

His hand moves from your ass to lightly press on the outside of your underwear that's covering your slit, already feeling how wet and ready you were for him. You turn your hips so he can reach more easily and spread your legs, completely aware how desperate you look in this moment but you were far beyond the point of caring. You moan pitifully at his touch.

Your kissing intensifies as he slides your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds, groaning deep in his throat when he feels how wet you are for him.

You’re already panting as his fingers skate over your opening and start circling your bud, pleasure coiling deep within; you tug on the back of his hair, needing more.

Thunder rumbles, closer and louder now, the sound of the rain picks up. You smirk to yourself idly, wondering if the thunder has any chance at drowning out your cries of pleasure for what you know Will is about to do to you next.

Will breaks the kiss. “Roll back over,” he says as he hooks his fingers into your panties, intending to slide them down. You reach down and help him take them all the way off, realizing he wants you on your side next to him.

“Take your clothes off too,” you say impatiently, eager to feel his skin against yours again. You pull your t-shirt off over your head, your hair spilling down your back, your nipples pebbling from the cool air, and slide your naked body back down under the covers and face away from him. You feel the bed sink down from his weight as he maneuvers behind you, the heat of his body practically scorching the skin on your back as he pulls you flush against him. His lips are on your neck, his hand sliding up and down your hip and ribs again. He caresses your breast and you give a low moan, turning your head to capture your lips again with his, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his head.

Foreplay be damned, you couldn’t wait to have him inside of you as you press your butt into his groin, grinding against his hard thick cock while spreading your legs again, opening yourself up to him.

He grunts into your kiss and reaches down your body again to play with your pearl. You rock your hips gently into his hand, needing more friction.

Normally content to take his time with you, Will seems to have lost his sense of self control too once he sees your body responding to him, already so wet and willing. After a few more tantalizing moments, he grabs his cock and leans back to line himself up with your entrance and you arch your ass back towards him so he can reach your opening more easily.

He takes a moment to rub the head through your silken folds, accumulating your slick on his cock. It almost drives you mad with desire and you moan desperately, begging for more. You feel his thick length tease your entrance as he pushes the head in. The stretch is different from this angle and, although you are wet, you gasp a little at the unexpected twinge of pain as he buries himself inside your tight, wet heat. He rocks gently into you, sliding in slowly, deliciously; you breathe deeply and bite your lip to keep from crying out again as you adjust to the feeling of his cock filling you up.

At last, when he is fully sheathed inside of you, he grabs your upper body and pulls you back against him, stilling for a moment as you adapt to his size. One hand slides down to play with your pearl again, the other arm slides under your pillow, cradling your neck and head. Although facing away from him, there is something so erotic about being spread open with him holding you from behind as your bodies meld together as one. At last, you finally feel complete again.

He trails kisses from your ear, down your neck, to your shoulder. After a moment, you start to squirm and mewl, and, slowly, languidly, he starts to move his hips. Your eyes roll in your head as the first couple strokes against your g-spot almost has you coming undone. A loud moan escapes your lips as you savor the sensation of his thick cock dragging along your soft velvet walls, pleasure already coiling low in your belly. You’re lost in this moment of feeling him between your legs, splitting you open, where only he belongs, his body connected to yours in a place that was made for him.

You roll your hips back into his, matching his speed, your breathing picking up. Oh, how you’ve missed him, missed the heat of his body, the smell of his skin, the strength of his arms holding you close, the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, all combined to the way you missed how he consumes you.

He sets a steady pace and you realize you are on the precipice of your orgasm and you try to hold back, your breaths coming in quick pants with the motion of his hips against yours.

“C’mon, babygirl, don’t hold back…I know you wanna cum,” Will growls low into your ear as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock. He picks up the pace just for emphasis, his cock thrusting harshly against your walls, knowing you won’t be able to stifle your orgasm with the increased friction as he also rubs your pearl furiously.

Through your half closed eyelids, you see lightning flash outside, momentarily illuminating the dark room, just as you feel lightning coursing through your body as your release crashes over you. You cry aloud as the thunder claps, intense pleasure surges through you as Will continues to rock his hips into you, sustaining your pleasure through your peak, grunting in your ear. At last, when you stop shaking from the aftermath of your climax, he chuckles gently behind you as he pulls out, clearly amused with just how quickly you came.

Normally, if condoms aren’t handy, Will always pulls out and paints your body with his release, but you don’t feel anything warm on your skin. Your brain is mush from your intense orgasm and you ask him stupidly, “Did you finish?”

“No, not yet anyway,” he says mischievously; Will has never not finished.

“Hmm, well let me help you with that,” you purr sensually as you roll over to him and climb on top, mainly sitting your weight on his upper thighs. Seeing him spread out, naked, before you, your breath catches in your throat for an instant, appreciating his beauty. The skin of his abdomen is unblemished aside from a dusting of freckles and moles; you watch the rise and fall of his chest as you admire the silver cross pendant that nestles in his chest hair. You run your hands over his toned chest and abs, savoring the feel of his powerful muscles beneath your hands.

You lean down and kiss him briefly on the lips before moving down his body, nipping, licking, and grazing with your teeth all the way down. You kiss every mole you come across as you head south towards his thick cock that glistens with your slick, stopping to leave a love bite on his hip bone before you settle between his legs. You grasp his thick cock, head weeping, and immediately take him as far as you can into your mouth and moan, savoring the taste of yourself on your tongue.

You flatten your tongue as you lick him clean, slurping and sucking, using your hand to pump what can’t fit into your mouth. You make eye contact with him and watch his face as you suck his cock hungrily. His lips are pressed together as he breathes in deeply through his long nose, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You take a deep breath as you slide your mouth up and down, swirling your tongue around the tip as he reaches for your hair, entangling his fingers into it. He starts thrusting along with you, matching the rhythm of your mouth. Normally, he matches your pace, but you notice him thrusting a little harder and deeper than before. You breathe through your nose and try to relax your throat as he bucks his hips, sliding himself in and out of your mouth. You feel the tip of his head hit the back of your throat and tears start to form in the corner of your eyes as he fucks your mouth and throat. You’re sure you look positively wrecked in this moment.

Your fingers dig into his thighs as he continues his steady rhythm and you hum low in your throat and watch as the vibration makes his breath hitch.

“Fuck,” Will grunts, panting and you can tell that he’s close. After a few more strokes, his cock starts to pulse in your mouth, his spend hitting the back of your throat, causing you to choke a little as you work him through it until he stills, growling deep in his throat. He pulls his cock from your mouth, his thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

“I want to watch you swallow,” he says and you do as you're told. His eyes are dark with lust, watching as your throat bobs before flicking back to meet with your gaze; his look is something akin to pride and you feel yourself flush, preening under his heady expression.

You crawl back up his body and kiss him again, thinking that if you taste yourself on him then he can taste himself from you. You savor the intimate moment as your lips meet and he sucks on your tongue before he pulls you down next to him under the covers and holds you close; you melt back into the heat of his body.

Thunder rumbles, rain still steadily beating on the pavement outside and a cool breeze blows through the room. Pressed against Will’s hot body, the chill doesn't phase you, actually a welcomed relief on your hot and sweaty skin. Snuggling, you hold each other and listen to the patter of the rain.

“Will?” you ask quietly after a bit.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, a gentle acknowledgement that he is listening.

“I think we should go away for a weekend. Travel somewhere. Just to have a little bit of fun,” you say. You had been wanting to bring this up but the timing just never felt right. You thought a weekend trip would be good for Will, good for you both, a change of scenery and some time away together could be exactly what you both need. You have yet to take a trip together as a couple.

He pauses for a moment before responding.

“Yeah, alrigh’, let’s go then,” he says as he places a tender kiss on your cheek.

>>>Part 4

A/N: For those that have made it this far, I just want to thank you all again for reading. I realize that I write about topics that can be extremely painful and triggering for some, perhaps even hard to read at times. For those that have ever struggled, know that I see you and that I know how hard some of those dark days can be, some months can be, some years can be. It does get better, in time. 💙

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @multyfangirl @aemondsscar @pandemonium105 @cyeco13 @chainsawsangel @sylas-the-grim @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep

#ewan mitchell #will salad days #will salad days fanfic #salad days #smut

160 notes · View notes

flamencodiva · 4 months

Text

Prologue

Description: Dean Winchester is slated to be the next Alpha of his pack. As with all Wolves, Dean is waiting to see who his mate is at 18. But when he doesn't find her within his pack, he wonders if he will ever have a mate at all. On the brink of going feral, Dean is sent away from his pack to search for his mate. He can only return once he's found her, or he must take on a chosen mate. Y/N is the daughter of the current Moon Goddess, Selene. Hidden from the mortal realm after an attack on the moon kingdom, Y/N has heard a lonely howl for the past ten years since she turned 18. When unexpected circumstances force her to leave her current home, will she be able to find the lonely wolf and help heal him?

Pairing: Shifter-Wolf!Dean Winchester x Shifter-Wolf!Female!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Benny Laffite, Castiel, Garth, John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Bobby Singer, Henry Winchester (in flashbacks), Nick (Lucifer), OMC Luke, Jack, OMC Zack, and many more!

Word Count: 2105

Warnings (For entire fic): Violence, Language, Sexual Content (Smut of all kinds).

This A/B/O is more werewolf centered than A/B/O-centered. I hope you all enjoy the world I have created through this fic. All characters, unless stated otherwise, are shifter-wolf. It is a world/lore that I stumbled upon and found myself wanting to write.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The full moon was high in the sky as it shone down onto the pack gathering below. Sixteen year old Dean Winchester stood with other his age as their bodies bagan to shift. His bones began to break and rearrange as tufts of shiny grey fur began to appear. He groaned in pain as his family stood near him and encouraged him to not fight the change.

‘Just breath son,” his father, John Winchester soothed.

“Just take deep breaths and let your wolf take over, Dean.”

His mother, Mary Winchester, had instructed. He could only nod as his face began to change. His nose and jaw elongated to grow a snout and he found himself on his arms and legs as they changed into paws. It didn’t take long before he competed his shift and allowed his wolf spirit, Shadow, take control.

‘Woah,’ Dean said as his vision sharpened.

“Let us celebrate our children and the emergence of their wolves!” John’s voice roared as everyone sexteen asnd older began shifting.

The entire pack ran as one through the forest that was a part of their territory. Dean was at the lead with not just his parents but with the rest of the adults that made up his father and mother’s Alpha and Luna units. His best friend Benny Lafeitte was slated to be his Beta. Castiel Novak was to be his Gamma and the one to help calm and keep him intune with his Luna. And lastly Garth Fitzgerald III who would take on the Delta position.

The Silver Moon pack was one of the proudest and strongest packs in the area. John and Mary Winchester watched as their son rolled around in wolf form, playing with their second son, Twelve-year-old Sam.

“The pups are growing up fast,” John said as he looked at his wife.

“They are,” she sighed, placing her head on his shoulder, “do you think they’ll find good mates?”

“I think so.”

“Dean will have to start training with you as an Alpha,” Mary reminded him.

“He’ll make a great Alpha, my love,” John turned his head to kiss the top of his mate’s, “look at how he is with Sam and his friends. He will make sure our Pack stays strong.”

two years later,

Dean fixed his hair again. Today he would find his mate. When pack members turned eighteen, they would be brought together at the pack house to find their mates. Essentially it became one big party.

‘Gotta find mate,’ his wolf Shadow whined.

“We will,” Dean chuckled, “besides, who knows, it might be that we already found and sampled our mate,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

‘No mate, not yet. Can’t sense her,’ Shadow huffed.

Dean rolled his eyes before turning to the door to see Sam leaning against the frame.

“How come I can’t go!” he whined, “I mean, I know I haven’t shifted yet but why can’t I find my mate?”

“Sam,” Dean placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “you have plenty of time. Besides, it’s only four more years. What’s your rush?”

“I know, my mate,” the young teen said, shrugging his shoulders.

“You do?” Dean raised his eyebrow at his brother, “who?”

“Jessica Moore,” Sam whispered, lowering his head in embarrassment.

“Jess? Your mate is Jess? How do you know?” Dean asked.

“Swift could sense it.”

“You know you can’t know for sure until you’re 18, Sam.”

“But Dean, I’ve read in some of the books that some mates can sense they are mates before they’re 18. It’s not all that uncommon.”

“Sam,” Dean said giving his brother a warning glare. “You know the rules. You have to wait until your first shift and on the full moon of your 18th birthday to know for sure.”

“Fine,” his little brother grumbled and threw himself on the bed. “Can you feel your mate near by?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “But who knows, she might have been hiding from me. Or, it just takes me and shadow the full moon to feel them.”

Dean sighed as he watched his brother through is mirror as he continued to get ready. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. His brother’s wolf had already found his mate before he was eighteen. It wasn’t fair. Here he was, the future Alpha, and his mate had not surfaced. Or at least he couldn’t sense her in the pack.

Meanwhile, his brother, barely of legal age, could already sense his mate. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. His wolf let out a whimper before Dean shook his head.

“Then, in four years, you and Jess can make sure you belong together,” Dean cleared his throat, “this is a rite of passage, Sam. So hopefully, my mate is out there, and the Goddess Selene blesses me tonight.”

With that said, Dean gave his brother’s shoulder a soft pat before making his way down the stairs of the packhouse. He could hear his mother ordering people around to prepare one of the large rooms.

“No, no,” he heard her cry in frustration.

“The food needs to be placed in the next room. The main room is for dancing and mingling.”

“Mom,” Dean made his presence known, “don’t you think this is a bit… much?”

“Nonsense,” she dismissed him, “not every day your eldest is of age to find his mate. Besides, you know I do anything for you boys.”

“You really think I’m gonna find my mate tonight?” Dean huffed.

“Why not? I saw you and Cassie were together three summers ago,” she pointed out as she continued to direct older pack members around the house to help set up.

“But that doesn’t mean she’s my mate,” Dean shrugged, “how did you know dad was yours?”

Mary blushed and turned to her son, “I just knew. And so did your father. Our wolves just felt this connection given to us by the Goddess.”

“What if my mate isn’t here?” Dean asked, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Then she will find her way to you,” Mary placed her hands on either side of her son’s face, lifting his gaze to hers. “You will find your mate Dean. You just have to trust that the Goddess has a plan.”

Dean nodded before taking her hands in his and giving his mother a kiss on her cheek. Turning away from the planning, he noticed Sam near their father’s study, his brother giving off a low growl.

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Dean whispered.

“Dad’s got the council in there. I heard something about rogues near our border.”

“What?”

Dean stepped closer to the door, his senses tingling as he tried his best to use his wolf hearing. Much of what was being said was muffled, but he could make out a few words. He and many of his friends are mainly undergoing extra training in the next few weeks.

“Do you think it’s Lucifer?” John sighed.

“Is that what Nicks's runt is calling himself,” a voice called out, “Idjit.”

Dean recognized the voice as Bobby Singer, one of the pack’s elders. Bobby had come to join their pack around the time his father, John, was just a young pup. He remembered his dad talking about Bobby being one of the best warrior trainers he had ever seen. Dean heard stories of Bobby having a son once, but the elder never liked to talk about it.

“The rogues seem to be from Nick’s pack, and Luke seems to be leading the charge,” John sighed, “but all we can do is double that guard. Whatever he’s doing, we will need to find out.”

“We need to beef up training, John,” Bobby sighed. “I’m too old for this.”

John chuckled, “my dad trusted you, and our warriors are strong because of you. Benny is set to take over for Hypolite.”

John’s heavy footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door. Dean could tell his father was worried. He only paced in his office when he needed to think of a solution to a problem.

Dean and Sam continued to try and eavesdrop on the conversation when the door cracked open.

“You know,” their father’s voice started them, “if you wanted to know what was going on, Dean, all you had to do was knock.”

Dean stood up and gave his father a sheepish smile.

“Well--”

“Samuel,” John huffed, “you know better than to sneak around. If I wanted you to know, you would know.”

“But dad! How come Dean gets to go to all the Alpha meetings? I’m an Alpha too!”

John placed a gentle hand on his youngest son’s shoulder, “Dean is going to be Pack Alpha one day. He is of age. He’s been training for this just as you have. Right now, I need you to be a kid and enjoy not having to worry about his”

“No fair. I can fight and be helpful!” Sam growled.

“I know you can, pup,” John ruffled his youngest son’s hair. “I promise when the time comes, you can help.

Sam frowned and stomped his way up the spiral staircase to his room, grumbling along the way.

“He’s trying to grow up too fast,” John sighed.

“He’ll get over it once he gets back into training mode,” Dean assured his father, “is it serious? The rogues on our borders?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” John dismissed, “tonight you find your mate.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed as his father walked away, “if she’s even here.”

The guests arrived with Dean hanging out with his friends, Benny Lafitte, Castiel Novak, and Garth Fitzgerald III.

“Excuze me, Boyz,” Benny said as he pulled away from his friends, “seem’z Red and I have zeroed in on our mate.”

“Already?” Castiel huffed, “how the --”

Dean watched as Cas stopped talking and turned towards the front door.

“I, um… I gotta--”

Garth and Dean watched as Benny and Cas walked toward their mates. The couples seem to fall into easy conversation.

“Don’t worry, Deano,” Garth gave the Alpha a slap on his back, almost making him choke on his drink, “I’m sure the next girl to walk in will be your--”

Dean covered his face with his hands as Garth clumsily tripped over his feet at the next female that walked in. Garth had stumbled into not just the table the boys were standing by, but the following tables lined up with the front door.

“Sorry, my bad!” Garth called out as he stumbled his way toward the female.

As the night went on, Dean watched as his friends and peers paired off with their mates. It hurt that his own mate hadn’t shown herself yet. By the end, Dean was left alone, his head hung low as he walked towards the balcony overlooking the valley.

The moon shone so brightly that its rays illuminated every corner of the pack's territory. Dean finished off the last of his drink before turning his gaze to the moon. Shadow could feel Dean’s pain. After all, he and Dean were one and the same. Their pain resonated so profoundly that Dean let Shadow take over as a mournful howl echoed through the sky.

‘Goddess hear my plea,’ it seemed to say, ‘let my mate find me soon.’

Little did Dean and Shadow know that in the realm of the Moon Goddess, the goddess herself had heard his cry.

“Dean Winchester,” she said, her voice a whisper as the howl echoed in the halls of her palace. “When the time comes, your mate will find you,” she said to the wind. “Strong heir of the Silver Moon Pack, your trials are just beginning. My Conor’s sacrifice to keep our daughter safe will not be in vain. I hope you can be patient.”

She walked to her room, away from the enormous mirror in her chambers, where the reflection of Dean sank.

This was to ensure the safety of her daughter, Y/N. The wolf, who claimed the name Lucifer, was no match for Conor's valiant efforts. The death of Selene's mate was ultimately felt by her. Her first concern was ensuring the safety of Y/N. Meeting Dean was still too soon for her. The young Alpha had to face his own struggles as her daughter trained.

A second reflecting pool was entered by the moon goddess's palm. With her light, she extended her hand into a room that was otherwise dark.

Whispering to her daughter, "My little Y/N," she delicately gathered the stray hairs and placed them behind her ear. "For as long as it takes, I will shield you from harm. I can only pray that the web of destiny does not end in sorrow."

Chapter 1

Tag List: Tag List is Open and has room for more. (note: Everything means everything from M/M to OFC)

Dean (Female Pairing Only)

@440mxs-wife

@virgosapphire79

@deans-spinster-witch

@sandlee44

@waynes-multiverse

@cookiechipdough

@magssteenkamp

@akshi8278

Dean Everything

@sexyvixen7

@kickingitwithkirk

@deandreamernp

@holylulusworld

@roseblue3733

@stoneyggirl2

@hobby27

@stixnstripesworld

#flamencodiva #The Moon Goddess's Daughter and the Alpha #Shifter!Dean Winchester Fic #supernatural au fic #Dean Winchester x Female!Reader #Angst #Dean Winchester AU Fic #Supernatural Fan Fiction

67 notes · View notes

wizardofrozz · 7 months

Note

hi, Rozz!!! from the kiss prompts, can I please request:

"i'm sorry, i had to." with Sawbones (simping uncontrollably for him tbh)

can’t wait to see how the mean one handles a first kiss 😅

Love It When You Hate Me

OC Sawbones x reader, Original Clone Troopers

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mention of injury, Sawbones being an asshole. I think that's it lol

A/N: Thank you for the ask Sev 🖤 I get so unbelievably happy when anyone simps of Sawbones lmao I got a little carried away with this but I don't even care, it was worth it 😂

Before the war, you hadn’t traveled much, staying busy in the emergency wing of Coruscant General. Then Geonosis happened, millions of troopers materializing out of thin air to fight a war most people hadn’t even been expecting. That was how you ended up working for the GAR, traveling around the galaxy to lend your medical knowledge to the troops that needed it most. You had visited several medical centers and worked alongside combat medics across numerous battalions.

The Ord Cestus Medical Center was your most recent assignment, offering an extra set of hands after a large influx of troopers came in. You smiled at the clone stretched out on the bed before you as you checked his vitals. You didn’t even know his name but it didn’t seem to matter to him.

“Am I gonna make it, doc?” he asked, a smirk lifting the side of his mouth. The trooper’s arm was secured to his chest, his right shoulder still healing after being violently ripped from the socket.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, smiling when he laughed. It was a welcomed sound in a place so steeped in pain, meaning you noticed when it cut off abruptly. You checked for any sign that he was in pain but his expression gave nothing away; you followed his eyes across the room and held in a sigh.

As a civilian, you hadn’t been sent into combat areas, making relief missions your most common assignment. Most of the time you spent with a battalion was fleeting but there was one that was an exception: the 104th battalion, the Wolfpack. General Plo Koon’s men still fought infantry battles but they also spent the most time rescuing other troops or offering aid to civilians. If it was by accident or due to a request from the general, you were called in, along with a few other civilians, to offer their medics a few extra hands.

Now, seeing one of those medics, most notably the chief medical officer, wasn’t what you were expecting.

Sawbones looked just as stormy as ever despite the crutches he was hobbling around on. You had heard the stories, the things he’d done in the name of the Republic but your inner idealist wrote them off as exaggerations. Although, when he trooper beside you shifted uncomfortably, glancing at you, it made you wonder. You followed Sawbones’ journey across the room, letting your eyes linger when he stopped at another Wolfpack member’s bed. You huffed under your breath and turned back to the trooper you were treating, gently patting his arm.

“Get some rest,” you ordered with a smile. The trooper flashed you a tense smile before shuffling down, stretching out on his bed. The next patient on your list was a few beds down, closer to where Sawbones was still lingering and you slowed your pace. You had your fair share of run-ins with the Wolfpack’s mean CMO and while his attitude made you want to steer clear of him, there was something about him that had your mind wandering back to him.

Sawbones was harsh on a good day but you had also witnessed a side to him that you’d almost consider...soft. He threw nasty comments around, scaring off anyone who dared get too close but he cared for his injured men with a gentle hand. You had a feeling his threats weren’t empty, but he wanted to help more than hurt, even if he had a funny way of showing it.

Sawbones turned his head slightly as you neared your next patient. His beard was neatly trimmed and you could only remember seeing it long and unruly out on the field. Now that you thought about it, that was the first time you had seen him in anything but his armor; the starchy, gray scrubs made him look softer, less abrasive. You offered the trooper, Dodger, a smile as you approached his bed. It was hard to miss the anxiety lining his expression and you hoped the simple gesture helped a little bit. Dodger’s jaw flexed but he squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath in preparation.

“How are you feeling, Dodger?” you asked, perching on the corner of his bed near his feet.

“Been better,” he mumbled, pointedly not looking at the hip-to-ankle cast he wore. You could feel eyes on your back and ignored the curious glances as you reached for his hand. Recovery was going to take some time but there was nothing unrepairable.

“Enough babying them.” You jumped at the voice from over your shoulder, twisting around to find Sawbones leaning on his crutches, his face twisted in a scowl. “They’re soldiers, not children.” There was a tense silence as you just gaped at him, taken aback by the bitter edge to his voice. Endless, dark eyes bore into yours and it took you a second to shake off the shock.

“Excuse me?” Sawbones arched a brow before shifting his attention to Dodger over your shoulder.

“You live to fight another day. Congratulations,” Sawbones said, his tone flat and uninterested. Dodger blinked a few times before letting out a long, slow breath, and slumping down in his bed.

“Uh, thank you, sir,” he murmured, nodding at the medic. Sawbones grunted before making a slow turn, heading back across the room and all you could do was stare after him. When you looked back at Dodger, there was a half-smile on his face that only grew when he caught the flabbergasted expression on your face.

Then the anger started to build, swelling like an impending storm and you stood so fast you staggered. Dodger tried to get your attention but you were already stalking toward the door Sawbones disappeared through. Finding him was easy, seeing that he could only move so fast and you picked up your pace. You could only imagine the look on your face but it must’ve been ominous enough for any passing staff to step out of your way.

You caught a glimpse of Sawbones disappearing into one of the smaller labs scattered around the medical center and hurried after him. There was one other clone sitting at one of the benches when you stepped inside, the pair turning to look at you.

“Leave,” you ordered, stepping away from the door. The clone hesitated, glancing at Sawbones and it only made your anger spike. “Out.” Sawbones leaned against the workbench, taking some of the weight off his broken leg, his head turning to follow the other clone as he stomped out of the room.

“What?” he asked, arching a brow.

“How dare you," you hissed, storming across the room, carelessly invading his personal space. “I am not one of your subordinates that you can talk down to. You had no right to step in like that.”

“And?” The unbothered air around him made you seethe; any crush you thought you might’ve had on him got shoved to the back of your mind. You ground your teeth together, taking another step closer.

“I don’t care what your problem is. I don’t care why you act like an asshole as if it’s your job but you will not treat me like some incompetent moof-milker.” You jabbed a finger into his chest, relishing in the quiet grunt he let out. “I’ve worked my ass off all my life and if you’re so emotionally constipated that my kindness bothers you, then I’d suggest sucking it the fuck up.”

Sawbones blinked at you, his eyes flickering down to where your finger was still pressed into his chest; when his eyes lifted again they seemed shadowed and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Suddenly, you felt your confidence withering as his expression darkened, his head tilting down, bringing your faces closer together. Just as you were about to take a step back, Sawbones surged forward, slanting his mouth against yours as he cradled the back of your head.

Your eyes widened comically but it didn’t deter him and before you knew it you were melting against him. His mustache tickled your skin and you found that you liked it, closing your fist, tugging him closer by his scrub top. Sawbones rumbled deep in his chest, parting your lips to slip his tongue into your mouth and you whined involuntarily.

It was just a kiss and yet it felt more erotic than any other kiss you’d shared with another person. The movement of his tongue was a mockery of what you desperately wished his hips were doing and it made you shiver. Sawbones broke the kiss so suddenly your head spun and you swayed closer, following his lips before you could catch yourself.

“Sorry,” Sawbones panted, his hand sliding down to your neck, “I had to. I like it when you get mean.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “You only speak one language: asshole.” It felt like a monumental accomplishment when Sawbones laughed; it was a sharp, harsh sound but it brought a smile to your face nonetheless.

“I speak another language too,” he murmured, bumping your noses together.

“Yeah? What’s that?” You barely finished the sentence before he pulled you into another dizzying kiss. Yeah, you would happily speak this language too.

Ragu list:

@a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @trixie2023 @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix @sev-on-kamino @commander-sunshine @dukeoftheblackstar

#clone oc x reader #sawbones x reader #original clone trooper x reader #OC: CT-2697 Sawbones #OC: Sawbones #star wars #the clone wars

65 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 1 year

Note

Ma’am I am BEGGING on my KNEES for you to continue “You’ve lost your girl”. I need to see if Reader is ok or not. Does she give birth to Hope safely? I wanna see Bonnie, Reader & Caroline friendship! & since I’m a petty woman I wanna see Klaus suffer, but the last one isn’t as important as the others (especially the friendship, love me good friendships). It’s fine if you can’t. Please & thank you.

(for the second request i just didn’t really want to keep Klaus from his child for years, sorry)

You’ve lost your girl PT2

Pt 1 Pt3

I had never been happier to be in Mystic falls. I was living with Bonnie as she lived alone and had free rooms, she said she could feel the magic radiating from my baby, she said that the baby will be strong and powerful.

I felt empty without Klaus, although having the witch and vampire supporting me through my pregnancy all i wanted was him.

A few weeks ago i overheard Bonnie and Caroline whispering, apparently Klaus was in Mystic falls looking for me, Bonnie boiled his blood and Caroline kicked him where the sun don’t shine.

I was 6 months pregnant! However the baby hadn’t moved much yet, Bonnie assured me that some babies didn’t kick till later but i couldn’t help worry a little bit so we kept up to date with doctor appointments which we had to schedule carefully so we didn’t bump into a Mikaelson.

At 7 months there was a complication which ended in an emergency c-section. Despite being a werewolf the healing process for some reason took longer than usual. Thankfully the baby was big enough that the doctors weren’t concerned however they kept us both in hospital to keep tabs. Caroline things she just grew fast because she’s supernatural.

The day after i had her i realised how awful i would’ve felt if something would have happened to my daughter and Klaus wouldn’t have been there. I basically begged the girls to let him see me and eventually they agreed. Now i was just waiting for him to arrive, our daughter was currently off being checked over once again.

———————————————————————

(third person)

Klaus has never rushed anywhere faster when Caroline told him that y/n had needed a c-section. The panic was shooting through him as be ran through the hospital trying to find her. Finally he found her room, she was lead in a hospital bed asleep, the crib beside her empty causing his heart to pound

where was their child?

did the baby make it?

He hadn’t stayed long enough to hear if the baby was okay, all he heard was that she was hurt and that was all the mattered in that moment.

His hands shook as he frantically searched the room

maybe the baby just went for a walk? they can do that right?

His head shot up as he heard his love begin to stir in her sleep, almost tripping over his own foot as he quickly got to her side, pulling her body to the edge of the bed to hug her side. However he froze at the pain filled cry she emitted and hesitantly lifted the hospital gown, the nee scare at her lower abdomen made his gaze saddened. His finger tips gently skimmed the line and sighed. His eyes closing momentarily before he lifted his gaze up to her face, her eyes were now open as they filled with tears

“sweetheart…i’m so sorry you went through this alone” he whispered

“i wasn’t alone…i had my friends” she replied softly and he nodded

“i know…Caroline told me that you were rushed to hospital…is um is the baby..?” he trailed ofd, pure heartbreak in his eyes at the idea of his child not making ut

“we have a daughter, she’s healthy despite being early, she was at a weird angle which meant that they had to remove her instead of having her naturally but she’s okay, they’re checking her over, making sure her air supply hadn’t been cut off or anything during the situation…she should be here any second” relief washed over his face as he brought her hand to his lips

“my love, please come home with me, we still have the house here in Mystic Falls, you don’t have to leave your friends, i’ve had the baby room made and everything is ready, please understand that i love you, i didn’t mean a word i said that day, i swear it on-“

“do not say you swear it on our childs life”

“of course not” he replied quietly

“i can’t stay with you…of course we can make arrangements with our baby, if you go back to New Orleans it’ll be more difficult but we can make something work for you” she muttered avoiding eye contact.

“I will remain in Mystic Falls…y/n…i know what i said was awful and cruel but you must know that I wouldn’t for a second leave you for dead. You will not ever come to harm by my hand and i will protect both you and our child with my life. You are more my family than anybody else in the world” he whispered tilting his head to try and get her to look his way

“You asked if i ever really thought that your family would accept me. In no way am i your family, it may have seemed that way once but it was a lie and i have accepted that. I’ve been without you for months and although you did not believe that this baby was yours or want anything to do with it, i am allowing you to see her, to hold her and to love her properly but i swear if you ever harm her, you ever say something that makes her cry and i will not care if you invited me into your life, you will never see either of us ever again.” Her voice was strong, her eyes now locked to his as she felt her anger pile up, the rush of hormones and emotions was twinging her mood around.

“I understand” was all he said as he let go of her hand and took a step back, tears burning his eyes but he did not let them fall. He silently took a seat in the chair across from them and waiting for his daughter to come back.

———————————————————————

(1st person)

I watched as the nurse handed our daughter to him, he quickly wiped his eyes to rid himself of the tears blocking his vision. A kiss was immediately placed on our daughters head as he held her delicately, his eyes closed as he released a breath, a small smile adorning his lips before disappearing again. He looked down at her and tilted his head, he uttered something so quietly to her that I couldn’t hear him.

“Have you named her?” He asked still watching her every move

“No…I didn’t want to do that without you” i admitted while fiddling with my own hands

“Did you have any ideas?” He questioned, his eyes rising to meet mine as i shook my head no

“Do you?” I asked, his eyes flickered between us both

“Could we call her Hope? I think she’s going to be our Hope.” He whispered while adjusting her hat on her head

“I like Hope” i nodded and he smiled softly

Finally i was going home, well to Bonnies. Klaus actually ended up sleeping on Bonnies sofa because he didn’t want to leave me and Hope. Bonnie was hesitant but i promised he wouldn’t do anything of touch anything without asking. To be fair he was very well behaved and only moved from his makeshift bed when the baby cried, he was quick to guide me back to my room

“You’re still recovering go back to sleep my love, I’ll take care of everything, rest sweetheart” i rolled my eyes but let him pull the duvet back over me and scurry off to hold Hope, he sat on the edge of the bed rocking her gently. When i woke up in the morning he was asleep on the floor next to the crib with his face in his knees

Since then he’s taken her home with him Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays.

Caroline has been over the moon.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited to dress a baby up. The amount of dresses she has bought through the months is ridiculous.

I now have my own apartment but i basically just live between Care and Bon. They’re both incredibly attached to her and also treat me like a baby so I don’t have to do much. Bonnie cooks for me, care cleans for me and they both do whatever tasks around my apartment they can to ‘make life easier’

Then on the days Klaus has Hope we go do something, movies, lunch, whatever.

I was going to get a job but Klaus was fast to shut that down

“You don’t need to work, you’re young, be with your friends have fun” he encouraged while stealing my new bank details so he could transfer over 10 million into my account

When i called him in a panic that he’d accidentally done it my accident he was already offering more

“Is it not enough? How much would you like my love?” I stayed silent for a few minutes before responding

“No…i was just shocked is all…it’s a lot of money Klaus, you didn’t have to give me so much” i murmured still looking at my account in awe

“Nonsense sweetheart, I want only the best for you, both of you. I love you both” his voice grew softer and quieter as he whispered the last words

“I’ll see you tomorrow Klaus…goodnight”

“Goodnight”

———————————————————————

(Thirst person)

Both Elijah and Rebekah could see the Niklaus’s mood rise as he spoke to her, the way his heart pattered away in his chest as he drummed his fingers against the couch, only for his face to drop and his mood to fall when the call ended.

“She really doesn’t love me anymore does she?” He asked quietly looking at his phone, a picture of her and Hope as his home screen

“I think she does, she just doesn’t want your relationship to harm Hope if it doesn’t work” Rebekah comforted

“But what if it does work?” He uttered, Bekah glanced back to Elijah who held a look of pity on his face

“Perhaps…perhaps it is not meant to work out…maybe you should try to move on? She doesn’t want you to be hurting” she suggested

“I don’t want to move on, i want her. I want our family together. I want us to have one of those stupid white picket fences outside of a big suburban house, we will walk Hope to school each morning and spend the day together, i want any life she wants as long as we are together”

“Niklaus she needs time and you need to give both she and yourself space, it is not healthy to obsess over this” Elijah reminded slowly approaching with a glass of scotch which Klaus denied, he didn’t want to drink so much now being a father..

“But i love her” he whispered

“Just let her go Niklaus, let her breathe without you” Elijah encouraged

“I need her” he sniffed

“You’re strong Niklaus, you need to stay strong, for your daughter, do this for Hope”

“One day maybe…” he whispered

“Perhaps one day” Elijah nodded

322 notes · View notes

sanscat0414 · 3 months

Text

Love Hurts A, Love Acquired

Hawks x Reader

Scenario: You have a crush on Hawks but he loves another or so it seems. One day you learned that you have the Hanakai disease. Will you be saved?

Note:

Y/N = your name

Part 1

Part 2

Hawks rushed to the hospital front and got your room number and dashed to your room.

“Y/n!” He said as he rushed to your side and held your hand.

You open your eyes to see him.

“You’re here….”

Your voice was raspy, you were as pale as a ghost form all the blood you lost. You hated the fact that he had to see you like that.

“Mirko told me about what’s happening to you. Why did—“ he stop himself form questioning you, he had a to endure your survival first “Please take the surgery, feather. It’s not worth dying for someone who doesn’t even know how much they’re missing out.”

You shook your head no.

“The tell me who is it that you love so much that your willing to die for them? I don’t want to loose you to this. Please feather. I promise I’ll get them here fast and you can confess and—“

You stopped him by gently lifting your hand to his face. You smiled and said “Okay.”

“So who.”

“I love, ” Cue dramatic pause mostly because your out of breathe “you, Keigo. I always have…. If I loose those memories and feelings for you it be losing a large chunk of my life…. I can’t risk that because that’s how much I love…. you.”

Hawks stared at you for a moment thinking back to the two of you. The times you help him and the times he help you. He thought that’s just what friends did now, the more he thought about it the more he realized just how much he actually love you. You were a bit nervous for a while form his intense staring, knowing he’s probably in deep thought. You couldn’t help but think he might wanted to reject you and your okay with that knowing at least you tried.

“Keigo, I’m perfectly fine if you——“ You were interrupted by Hawks hand sushing you following by a gentle kiss from him.

“I wish I had realized sooner, so I could have save you from all that pain. “ Hawks said once he moved away from you.

You about to say something before you started coughing again. Hawks slightly panic and rushed to get a doctor. Once a doctor was here they rushed Hawks out and tended to you. Hawks was nervous ‘maybe it didn’t work? Maybe I didn’t love them enough maybe I’m confusing romantic love for platonic loves? No that’s not it. Maybe I was too late…..’ A million thoughts ran through his head, hoping and praying that you be okay.

Once the doctor came out Hawks bombarded the doctor with a bunch of questions. “… is she okay?!”

“Uh. Your her emergency contact right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, it seems that she’s getting better. Hanakai is a bit finicky when it comes to healing after the confession. Some heal instantly some take a bit of time.. so we still need to do a few tests to confirm this. She’s fine right now buts she fell asleep not long after she stopped coughing up flowers. Well to the test tomorrow and compare them form the fromer test and see if there’s any improvement.”

Hawks have a small sigh of relief. You’re not out of the woods yet and he promised to comeback tomorrow to see if you felt any better. The next day Hawks went straight to the hospital after work. When you saw him you couldn’t help but blush thinking about yesterday’s kiss and confession.

“So how are you?” Hawks asked worriedly.

“I’m dying.” You said with a straight face

He looked modified thinking he might have not lived you enough to save you.

You not being able to hold it and laughed abit.” Sorry sorry that was in bad taste, the doctor said it will go away after awhile. Apparently I’m just those unfortunate enough to get our feelings reciprocated and still need to wait it out instead of having love magically fix us.”

He immediately went in for a hug, gently of course. He then flicked your head.

“Ow what was that for?!”

“For scaring the sh*t out of me. And this is for me being too much of a doofus to not realize how much I love you.” He said giving you a kiss on the lips.

“Here I thought you like Mirko.”

“Sure she a good woman but I only love you. It just took longer for me to realize that.”

“You always talked about her and…”

“Feather~ I just wanted to share some good time I had with her because I thought those stories were funny. Besides it being a hundred times better if you were there with us you know.”

“I guess I should thank her for spilling the beans.” You said feeling a bit sillly after everything.

For the next few weeks you stayed with Hawks after being cleared to leave. He helped you during your recovery. Showering you with love and affection thinking it might help speed up your recovery. Helping you with day to day life as there was a few things that took longer to heal like how anemic you became from all the blood loss. He complained how much he missed you and how he wanted nothing more than to be with you 24/7. It was nice living with him. Hawks didn’t let you go to work even when you felt like you were feeling a lot better.

“Hey Feather! No working until your fully recovered. I don’t want you getting infections or something.”

Once you finally got better, Hawks asked you to move in with him properly. It wasn’t that big of a difference form how you guys were before all of this ordeal but you loved all the New Romantic stuff that Hawks would do like trying to make dinner for you or getting you gifts. Naturally you did the same. You couldn’t help but think how luck you are to have him.

Here’s to new relationship you hope to last for years to come.

“I love you Kei.”

“I love you more My sweet Angel.”

#bnha hawks #keigo #keigo takami #wing hero hawks #hawks fluff #hawks x reader mha #bnha hawks x reader #bnha keigo #hawks mha #hawks x yn #hawks angst #hawks x reader angst #hawks x y/n angst #angst to fluff #angst to comfort

25 notes · View notes

stevenose · 2 years

Text

heal

kinktober day 6 - sex pollen (steve x reader)

ao3 | masterlist

summary: you wake steve up with a painful fever, needing his help to quell it.

contains: gender unspecified reader; use of word ‘hole’ for reader’s genitals; reader is under influence of sex pollen; dub-con due to the sex pollen aspects (though as usual with this trope, love confessions at the end); rushed and confused penetration (reader receiving); fingering; helpful!steve; no prep; coming inside; nipple play; slight bit of size kink; lil indication of impregnation @ the end sorry i’m insane; aftercare

word count: 2.2k !!!

18+ only!! minors and ageless blogs dni!!

===

“Steve.”

Something in your voice sounds so dire that the tone of it is enough to shake Steve awake. “What’s wrong?” he asks. You’re sharing a bed like friends do after the world ends, both too tired to sleep anywhere else. He’s never heard you sound like this before.

“Something,” you say. You’re breathing rapidly. Steve thinks you might be having a heart attack and he sits up, shifting towards you. “I don’t feel okay.”

“What’s goin’ on?” he asks. The whole “not going to the hospital immediately after emerging from another dimension” thing has to stop. He reaches out for you and you gasp, then moan.

“Steve,” you say again. It comes out as a long moan. “I - I can’t -“ You push yourself against him like a cat, nearly purring at the closeness. Steve watches you, highly confused. His boxers are getting tight.

“I -?”

“I need you to touch me,” you cry. Your cheeks and eyes are wet with tears and you sound so desperate. “Steve, please. I really - please, I need you - need you to -“

“Where?” he asks, wanting to help but not sure how. He thinks you’re hurt - maybe you need a massage. “Is it your back?”

And then you’re kissing him, your tongue invading his mouth, and it’s not that he hates it, he’s just really confused. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek and he gasps, pulling away - you’re hot. He moves his palm to your forehead and frowns at the temperature. You whine, pulling him up onto you and wrapping your legs around his hips.

“I -“

“I don’t know what’s going on!” you cry, reaching for his shirt and trying to tug it off of him. “I’m so hot, I’m so - I feel so empty, Steve, like I’m going to die if I - I - if you don’t -“ You cry out and writhe, pressing yourself into his crotch.

“Oh my god,” Steve whispers, looking down at your red cheeks and the tears staining them. He’s never seen anyone like this, much less you.

“It hurts!” you wail, fingers still toying with his shirt. “Steve, I need you, please!”

“Where?” he asks again, but his hand is already sliding down to your pajama bottoms. His fingers rub against your hole and he’s shocked at how slack you already are. Like you’ve already been prepped.

“I - Jesus, are you sure?” he breathes. Steve’s so worked up at how desperate you are under him. He knows you hurt and he’s almost certain this has to do with earlier events, but he can’t help how hard his cock strains against his underwear.

You nod, mouth agape, about to urge him on again when he sinks a finger slowly into you. Your eyes roll back, arching up into his dick again.

Steve licks his lips at the feeling. You’re burning up even more down here and you feel so loose. One finger is nothing. He slips in two, pushing in down to the knuckle.

Fuck, you mouth, eyes wide. “More, please Steve, I need you.”

If this could be his job for the rest of his life he’d be happy. He slips a third finger in and there’s finally a tightness around his digits. You suck him in, pulsing around him, moving your hips in an attempt to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Jesus Christ, look at you,” he breathes, heart beating fast in his chest. “You need more? This enough?”

You immediately shake your head. Steve crooks his fingers to hit your sweet spot and you moan loudly, pulling him down to kiss him again. You’re still trying to ride his hand, so desperate and needy. Steve never thought he’d see you like this, sweating and crying and clinging to him like you’d die if he moved an inch away.

“Fuck me!” you finally cry, head thrown back as the pads of Steve’s fingers continue to massage your sweet spot. “I need you to fuck me or I’m -“

Steve moves fast, throwing your pajama bottoms off and stripping himself bare. He spits on his hand before pumping his shaft - though he knows he won’t need lubrication. You won’t even need a moment to adjust to him - which is almost too hard to believe. He’s never had anyone take him without at least two minutes to just breathe through the stretch. “Are you positive?”

“I need you,” you assure, teary eyes looking into his. “I can’t do this myself. Please, baby, I have to feel you, might go crazy if I don’t.”

That’s all he needs. Steve pushes into you and settles balls deep in one fluid thrust. As expected, you need no time to settle. He doesn’t need time, either. Steve pistons his hips roughly, snapping into you over and over. It feels like he’s going a little mad, too, feverish as he watches your eyes cross and roll back. Something he’s thought of forever, but never anticipated ever seeing.

“Touch me,” you whimper, grabbing his big, strong hands and placing them on your chest for him to squeeze at your sensitive nipples over the cotton of your shirt. A drawn out moan escapes you as he does, pinching and twisting. “They feel so full, Steve.”

“Christ,” he pants, fucking you a bit harder. He leans down to suck at your neck. The scent of you is concentrated here and he feels intoxicated by it.

“Don’t stop.” You sound so deathly serious that it makes Steve’s hips stutter. “God, Steve, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “‘m here, long as you need me.”

“Forever,” you moan. “Need you in me forever.”

“Can’t keep talkin’ like that.” His hair falls into his eyes. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Come inside, please,” you beg. “I think - I think you need to - to - to flush out whatever...”

But there’s no way Steve’s doing that, even if it makes his balls tighten up. He’s the clear headed one and he knows coming inside of you is the worst possible option. Even fucking you raw like this is a bad idea. The least he can do is pull out.

“Stay with me,” he says, “just a little longer. Gonna help you cum and then it’ll stop. Right?” he adds, unsure of what’s really even going on. He might be fucking you for eternity. Not that he would contest it. Your walls are so warm and tight around him, gripping him like a vice, holding onto him so harshly that he’s hardly able to pull back to slam in.

“I don’t know.” You sound so defeated, eyes welling with fresh tears. “Please, Steve. Make it stop. It hurts.”

“What hurts?” he asks, moving a hand to cup your jaw again. His big doe eyes are laced with concern.

“My - everywhere. Need to cum.”

“I’ve got you,” Steve assures again, angling his hips to hit right at the spongey spot inside of you. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he continues to fuck you into his bed. He feels your fingernails dig into the skin of his biceps and he locks eyes with you. He’s never felt so good - in love - erotic.

“Going to,” you force out, fingers gripping him tighter.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, gritting his teeth. He’s so close, too, but he has to wait so he can pull out. “Let me see you.”

When the tension in your stomach finally snaps, you scream, throwing your head back into the pillow. Steve’s quick to kiss you, groaning as he does, trying to think of anything other than how good you feel while your walls milk him. He keeps up his pace until he can’t anymore, pulling out and cumming on your stomach. He wants to collapse, but the look on your face tells him something’s still wrong.

He says your name quietly, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. And then you cry, sobs wracking your body as you shake your head.

“Oh, God,” you wail. “It’s worse.”

“Worse?” Steve’s shocked. Did he not do a good enough job? Was it that bad?

Your hands fly to his cheeks, cupping them. A moment of clarity seems to grip you. “Stevie. You ... you have to come inside of me. Please. It’s the only way. I know it. I -“ You swallow hard, trying to breathe through the pain and tears. “I can feel it. Please. That’s the only thing that’ll make it stop.”

Steve searches your eyes for any signs of hesitancy and finds none. He swallows hard before lining up with your entrance again, cock already hardened. He’s surprised by his own stamina. He rubs the tip of his cock over your hole before leaning down to kiss the shell of your ear. “Hold on for me.”

He buries himself into you again. Your tears nearly stop entirely, replaced by loud moans and curses and pleas for Steve to cum. No one’s ever wanted or needed him so badly that it doesn’t take him long to get to the edge again, trying to bring you along with him. It takes a few tries this time to find your spot, but once he does, it doesn’t take long for you to clench around him and bite his shoulder to muffle your screams. The pain of the bite adds to his pleasure in a way he never thought possible, and a quick image flashes into his head. His cum leaking out of your spent hole, body flushed but calm, full of him and finally resting. With that, Steve cums just as loud as you, pushing so far in that he almost bends you in half. You can feel his spend entering you, warm and thick, and with each pulse of his cock you slowly come down.

You’re both panting together when he finishes. Steve collapses onto your chest, completely spent, mentally crossing his fingers that he managed to do the trick. His cock softens inside of you and he can tell immediately that there’s a temperature difference. Your walls clench up around him, too, not as slack as they once were. If anything, you’re closing up.

“Angel?” he asks, panting, listening to your heart slow.

It takes you a moment to talk. “Steve.”

He moves his head to look up at you. You seem dazed, eyes glassy and mouth open. He can suddenly feel goosebumps rising on your skin - most likely from the drop in body temperature. He slides out and off of you to lay beside you, sure to wrap you up in blankets before pulling you into his chest. You rest your head there, arm slung lazily over his hip.

“Are you okay?” Steve whispers.

You pause, then nod. “I don’t know what happened. I just woke up and … it hurt so much. I needed you. I think maybe …” You trail off. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” he whispers, tucking his head down to look you in the eyes. “I’d do anything for you. Anything.”

“Clearly,” you say meekly, sounding and feeling small. “I’m so sorry I made you do that.”

“Hey,” he says again. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, yeah? Rest for me, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

You’re quiet for a while and your breathing evens out. Steve assumes you’re asleep, his own mind racing as he tries to understand whatever the hell just happened. As he tries to figure out how to protect you from it ever happening again. As he tries to figure out a nice way of saying that was very nice and you’re very beautiful and I have loved you as long as I’ve known you and I’m sorry it took us having Upside-Down induced euphoria to say something about it. But you speak up first.

“I love you,” you whisper, fingers playing idly with the hair on his chest. “‘m not just being nice.”

Steve’s shocked, breath catching in his throat.

“Please say something.” You sound tearful. “I can’t lose you. I don’t want to lose you over this.”

“You won’t,” he whispers back, finally finding some of his voice. He moves down to face you, taking your chin between his fingers. He kisses you softly and slowly, taking the time to feel your lips instead of pressing roughly against them. Wants to remember the feel of them, that soft-firm plushness. You both feel dazed when he finally pulls back.

“I love you.”

You blush and bury your head into his chest, unsure whether you should laugh or cry or scream.

“And it only took us having weird sex to say it,” he jokes.

“At least the weird sex part is out of the way,” you bite back. “And you already came inside of me. That’s endgame level stuff.”

You throw your leg over Steve’s thigh and he can feel his sticky, thick cum leaking out. He groans and buries his own face into the top of your head.

“Let’s talk tomorrow,” he repeats. “But tonight, just know I love you.”

You nod sleepily. “And I love you.”

As you rest, something inside of you grows.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #ns/fw #steve x reader #kinktober #this is RLY BADDDDD i’m sorry 🫣

242 notes · View notes

thebabblingbrookenook · 1 year

Text

The Viscount Who Loved Me Too Much - Part 2

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Summary: Modern AU - A continuation of a previous story, The Viscount Who Loved Me Too Much Part 1, where Reader is recovering from a heart transplant. She’s determined to make sure she truly lives every second for the rest of her life. Not a moment wasted. When she meets Anthony Bridgerton, she starts to realize, and ask for, all the things she really wants for herself.

Warnings: This chapter is pretty tame compared to Part 1. There are brief mentions of sexual content but not actual smut. Sorry guys, maybe in Part 3 haha

Word Count: 6K

Author’s Note - I know I had originally said that this would be a 4 Part series, but I may have underestimated how much content I had to work with. For now, I won’t put a number on it. Once again, @colettebronte saves the day with her beta reading. You would not want to see the mess of words I laid down before her keen eye gave it a once over. And to @eleanor-bradstreet, my sweet, sweet Eleanor... Thank you so much for walking in angst with me on this one. Your advice and companionship have been invaluable.

_____________________________________________________

Anthony Bridgerton was a man of his word, having made good on his promise to ruin you that morning. Twice. He had left your legs weak and your backside sore, but you were thoroughly satisfied. It was the kind of satisfaction that you were afraid to get used to. Getting attached to him would probably be a colossal mistake, but he wasn’t making it easy.

Sitting across from him in your favorite café, over breakfast you pondered what your life might look like with him in it on a more permanent basis. It was a dangerous game to play but you couldn’t seem to help yourself. Something about him was addictive and you could already anticipate the pain his absence would create.

You were constructing a getaway plan in your head when his voice cut through your concentration. “Figured out how you’re going to ditch me yet?”

“What? Why would you say that?” Panic pitched your voice higher. “I wasn’t planning…”

“Yes you were,” he teased with a knowing grin. “I recognize the look. I practically invented it. Let me save you the stress. If after today you don’t wish to continue spending time with me, I’ll bugger off.”

“Continue?” you ask, trying unsuccessfully to keep the hope from your voice. “You want to see me again?”

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” He tested the waters.

“Yes,” you nodded shyly, averting your eyes. “And this morning.”

“So did I,” he assured. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to keep enjoying myself.”

“I think I’d like that,” you conceded. If he was going to stick around, you wanted to address the hideous scar in the room. “You can ask me, you know. It’s okay, I know you want to.”

He had the courtesy to look a bit ashamed when he asked. “What happened?”

“I got the flu,” you shrugged.

“I beg your pardon? I’m not sure I understand.”

“It seems crazy, I know. But that’s what happened. It was just the flu. I was really sick with a stomach bug for a few days and then I was dying. The doctor said it was a one in a million scenario. Viral Myocarditis. The virus weakened my heart muscle and there was too much damage. I was fine one day and on life support the next.”

You watched him with interest as his mind tried to add everything together. “You needed a transplant?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “It was all so sudden. There wasn’t a lot of time to process everything. My whole life changed.”

“Wow,” he stated in disbelief. “You’re okay now though, right?”

“My doctor seems to think I’m healing nicely. I had to make a lot of adjustments. I’m going to be on medication for the rest of my life, but that seems a small price to pay.”

“That’s only the physical aspect. How are you handling things otherwise? I can’t imagine that has been easy for you. From all my accounts, you're very… lively.” He grinned flirtatiously. At this rate, you were going to need to keep an emergency fire extinguisher in your purse for your nether regions.

“Honestly, I’ve been a mess. It took a long time to find myself again. Even now, I’m not quite the same.” You searched your mind to find the right words. Why the desire was so strong, you weren’t sure, but you desperately needed to be understood by him.

Without missing a beat, he met you where you were. “Of course you’re not. Nor should you be. I’m not sure I’d like to know the person who could go unaffected by those circumstances. They would either be a liar or a fool. Probably both.”

His voice trailed off in contemplation so you followed him into the void. “I think maybe you’ve already known that person.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “I live with him every day.”

Anger pricked at your consciousness, sending your pulse on a rampage. It was ludicrous, you barely knew this man, but the instinct to defend him, even from himself, felt like it was your newfound purpose. It was presumptuous to think you knew better, but those words didn’t ring true.

“We’ve all been fools at some point. And I lie to myself all the time.” You hoped you weren’t doing that right then; Looking at him and seeing only what you wanted to see. But you decided self doubt was useless and trusted your instincts instead. “We just have to learn how to get out of our own way.”

“Is that what you’re doing now? Getting out of your own way?” Genuine interest played behind his eyes.

“I’m trying. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but I’m trying. It feels like I owe it to myself. And to the…” you paused, subconsciously running your thumb over your scar. “Well, to all the people who got me here. Anything less would be unforgivably selfish of me.”

His fingers reached out to play with yours absently on the table. “So what’s your secret? There has to be a trick to it. I’m far too obstinate to simply tell myself to get the fuck out of my own way.”

The familiarity in his touch warmed your chest. It felt natural to be there with him. “I think it’s all about perspective. There is this huge thing lingering over me now, constantly reminding me to reevaluate when I feel stuck. My experience was terrifying, and I would never wish it on someone else, but perspective is definitely something it has gifted me. Seeing situations, and even other people through a new lens changes the entire picture.”

His huff of laughter sat in contrast with the smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Now you’re beginning to sound like my brother.”

“Your brother sounds like a wise man,” you teased.

“A self proclaimed one at that. He would be unbearable if he heard you confirm it.” His words were sharp but his tone radiated affection.

“What’s his name?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

You could see his mind wrestling over your request. Anxiety froze you to your seat while you waited for him to decide if you were worthy of this information. Family was private for some people, and you worried you may have accidentally crossed a boundary.

An apology was forming on your lips when he offered a response. “Benedict.” He broke your eye contact to take a sip of his cooling tea. “I’m the oldest, then Benedict.”

“It must be nice to have a sibling. I always wanted one growing up, but I think I scared my parents off children on round one,” you offered up a piece of your life in reciprocity.

“Be careful what you wish for. I have seven, and they have been a proper pain in my ass, each in their own specially crafted and unique ways.” His voice was laced with a paternal pride that colored his features in warmth.

“Seven?! You parents must be exhausted.”

“It’s just my mother now,” he confided. “The woman is a saint.”

“Oh,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” he remembered with a sad silence settling over him. “But enough about me! Let’s get back to you. I’m far less interesting.”

Somehow you doubted that, but you yielded to his subtle request to move away from a difficult subject. “What would you like to know?”

“Obviously, you’re from The States, which I offer my utmost sympathies for,” he smiled cheekily. “... but whereabouts are you from?”

“I grew up in a little town outside of Columbus, Ohio that no one has ever heard of, but we moved to New York when I was fourteen.” Yep, definitely not more interesting than him. You were boring yourself to tears.

“And how did you end up on the right side of the pond?”

“I work for a luxury hotel. We opened a new location in London and they needed someone to get it off the ground. I’m here until they say otherwise.”

Leaning forward, he whispered conspiratorially, “Is it bad of me to hope they need you indefinitely?”

You felt a blush erupt across your cheeks at his confession. Your voice lowered in meekness as you readied an admission of your own. “I don’t know… Is it bad of me to really like that you just said that?”

“Maybe,” he leaned in even further like he was about to divulge a secret. “We’ll just have to be bad together then.”

The heat left your face entirely and raced to a place much, much lower. The way your body responded to him took you off guard. You were no stranger to lust, but this was different. He had roused something in you that you didn’t know existed and you were completely at its mercy.

Before the logical half of your brain had a chance to talk you out of it, your mouth opened and blurted out something you had yet to share with anyone. Not Ellie. Not your mom. Only him. “What would you say if I told you that an offer to stay on a more permanent basis is actually a reality for me? I haven’t given my answer yet, but my bosses want to make me head of our European division. Our London location has been thriving and we want to expand even further. They already have plans for Germany, Italy, and France.”

He whistled his admiration. “Wow… that’s a big deal. If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you’d be crazy not to take that opportunity. What’s holding you back?”

Taking a moment to truly consider, you searched your mind for the right answer. “My parents… Being sick and this far away from them has been hard on all of us. It would be a lot easier on them, especially my mom, if I was home. And I miss them. I miss New York. There are days when I would murder someone to get my hands on a New York bagel.”

“Hmm,” he mulled over your words. “I see…”

“What?” You hoped your irritation wasn’t obvious. “You don’t think those reasons are valid?”

“No, they are perfectly valid. They just aren’t the reason. Those are the excuses being used to justify not taking the risk.” His expression held no malice and his voice was free of condescension. He was simply offering the truth. For some reason, that irritated you even more.

“Excuses. Reasons. Aren’t they the same thing?”

“Not in my opinion,” he shrugged. “Excuses will always be there. Reasons can be conquered. So what is it? What are you afraid to go up against?”

No one had ever cut so directly through your bullshit in all of your life. The exposure was terrifying but also strangely exhilarating. Somehow telling him the truth came easier than with most. It didn’t feel like you were diving headfirst into judgment.

“Myself,” you admitted. “I’m afraid to face myself. This would be a massive undertaking of responsibilities. If I fail, it impacts a lot more than just me. I don’t know if I’m the person that commands the room, or makes decisions on such massive scales. I’ve always been the tool that someone else wields to realize their vision. An extremely effective tool, but still… I guess I just don’t want to find out in the end that I can’t make things happen of my own accord. I don’t want to know that I’m visionless or that I need someone to metaphorically hold my hand all the time.” You stopped to reign yourself in before you sent him running from the cafe in the opposite direction. “Sorry I just unloaded on you.”

His laugh was bright and genuine. “I seem to recall you letting me unload on you at some point in the last twenty four hours. I’m merely returning the favor. Besides, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.” He reached down and picked up your long-abandoned pastry and took a bite before setting it back on your plate. “Do you even want the position? If it isn’t something that you want, don’t say yes. It would suck the marrow straight from your bones. If you do want it…Well, someone very wise once told me that sometimes we just have to learn to get out of our own way.”

Using your own words against you was a nice touch. “I do want it. That’s probably why it scares me so much. Sometimes the most terrifying part about gaining your heart’s desire is that now you can lose it.” Your eyes flickered to his and you realized he was climbing to the top of that list at an alarming speed.

The intensity in his gaze knotted your stomach. “That’s true, but the alternative is much worse. To lose something without ever even tasting it… Show me a life of settling for safety and I’ll show you a life of dissatisfaction. You deserve to be thoroughly satisfied.” A sharp intake of breath rushed through your lungs at the feel of his foot lightly brushing the length of your calf under the table. “In every regard.”

Clearing your throat, you directed the conversation back to him. Another second under his heated stare and you would have found yourself dragging him into a stall in the ladies room. “How do you find satisfaction in your life?”

His smile was wicked with innuendo but his words were sincere. “I enjoy my work. I took over as CEO of the company when my father passed away. Having the chance to build on his legacy is fulfilling for me. And of course my family - being the head of such a large household is where I find the most purpose. It’s time consuming and tiresome work, but it’s very rewarding. My siblings…” he trailed off briefly, leaving you wondering where he’d gone. Remembering himself, he continued. “Watching them all grow and discover themselves, and being able to guide them through it all… I’m not sure I’ll ever do anything more important.”

Your heart swelled with admiration. “They must adore you.”

His laugh was laced with derision. “Hardly. Most days I’m not even certain they like me. It’s hard for them to see me as just a brother, or a friend, when I’ve been parenting them for most of their lives. I’ve been told I can be… overprotective.”

“Ahhh,” you smirked. “So in other words, you’re controlling.”

He shrugged, not at all bothered by the title. “Family comes before all else. You seem to understand that. That’s part of why you haven’t jumped at the chance for this job; You’re thinking of them.”

“It’s mostly my mom. Don’t get me wrong, I know my dad loves me and would be thrilled to have me closer, but he doesn’t need me like my mom does. I think he’s proud of me for venturing so far away and thriving on my own. But my mom… this has been really hard on her. She’s been in full helicopter mode for a year now.” You paused, remembering all that she had sacrificed for you throughout your life. “Staying here, so far away, seems selfish. Especially because it would be so easy for me to relieve her extra stress. I could find a job in New York - it would be fine.”

“A job, yes. But THE job… The one you deserve. The one you’ve earned.” He shook his head, somewhat dumbfounded by the situation. “Sometimes our own happiness requires a bit of selfishness. Besides, isn’t it equally as selfish to make a unilateral decision that impacts her life without giving her the chance to tell you her opinion? I can’t imagine your mother being okay with watching you accept mediocrity on her behalf.”

As if you had said her name one too many times in an accidental summoning, your mother’s familiar voice reached your ears. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. You weren’t answering your phone, and Ellie said she hadn’t heard from since last night. Where have you been?!”

Mortification opened its jaws and swallowed you whole. She was too preoccupied with her fear induced rage to notice the man sitting across from you. It took everything in you to keep your eyes from venturing to his face. The last thing you needed was to start crying from embarrassment. Like a child accepting a very public reprimand.

“Mom…what are you doing here,” you asked absently, still finding your way out of a stunned stupor. Confusion and disbelief creased your brow as you took in the number of unanswered calls and texts on your phone. Ellie had even reached out in warning of your mother’s war path. “My phone must have been on silent. Sorry about that. Is everything okay?”

“You tell me! When I left you last night you weren’t feeling well, and then I didn’t hear from you all morning. You had me worried sick.” Still, she didn’t notice Anthony sitting next to you, politely sipping his tea. Your venture off the grid must have really shaken her.

“I’m fine. I just…” you paused, realizing an anger of your own. “Wait, how did you even find me?”

Her posture prepared to defend her actions, but her face still had the good sense to look at least slightly abashed. “Your father taught me how to track your location with my phone.”

The only thing saving her from the weight of your full irritation was Anthony’s presence. But make no mistake, there would be a conversation about this blatant invasion of privacy. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. Can we talk about this later, please?”

Coming down from her spiral of overreaction, her gaze finally flickered over to Anthony. You almost pitied her when he flashed that breath-stealing smile in her direction. “I apologize for the distress. I fear this may be my fault. I’ve been rudely monopolizing your daughter’s attention. We bonded during some early morning cardio, so naturally I invited her to enjoy a well-deserved breakfast pastry to undo all that hard work.”

The apples of her cheeks turned the exact shade of red as the aforementioned fruit. Whether it was from embarrassment, or the unavoidable fluster that Anthony tended to evoke, you weren’t sure. She gathered her composure before giving you a skeptical look. “You got out of bed on Saturday morning to workout? That seems unlikely.”

You plopped a piece of pastry in your mouth to hide an uncomfortable grin. “A workout routine was listed in all that recovery research you gave me. I thought you’d be pleased…”

“I’ve never seen you lift more than a coffee before 10:00AM, let alone break a sweat.”

Anthony’s velvety tone captured her attention again. “Well, I can confirm without a doubt that we were both a sweaty mess. She was extremely motivated. It really pushed me to my limits, I could barely keep up.”

You found yourself silently wondering if faking an illness would get you out of this conversation, but before you could craft a plan Anthony turned up the charm. “Would you care to join us…” he paused. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name?”

“It’s Kathleen,” she offered him demurely.

“How lovely,” he beamed. “Forgive my poor manners, Kathleen. I’m Anthony Bridgerton.”

“Bridgerton,” she practically gasped. “As in Bridgerton House Enterprises?”

You looked between the two of them in surprise. How could she possibly know of him?

“One and the same,” he confirmed. “Are you familiar with our work?”

“Just what I’ve read about the new Children’s Hospital. What you’re doing is a godsend for those parents. You have no idea what relief that will bring them. To not have to think about such trivial things during the worst moments of your life… that’s a gift.” Her voice trembled with reverence. You knew she was remembering a darker time.

“Ahh, yes.” His eyes lit up with affection. “That is a joint endeavor with my mother. She’s quite passionate about it. She is always looking for like-minded volunteers to join her team if you are interested in getting further involved.”

“I’ll have to remember that…” her tone shifted to one only a mother could summon. “Mr. Bridgerton..”

“Please,” he interrupted. “Call me Anthony.”

She gave him an appeasing smile. “Anthony… I appreciate your offer to join you, but I was hoping to get a moment with my daughter alone. We have some things we need to discuss.”

“Mom,” you screeched.This level of mortification wasn’t something you realized existed.

“No, of course.” Anthony conceded, pushing his chair back from the table to stand. He looked over to you with an apologetic smirk. “It was nice meeting you, y/n. Thank you for a lovely morning.”

All you could manage was a deflated, “You too,” before you watched him turn and walk out the door. Your mind was racing trying to decipher what had just happened. Your heart pounded louder in your ears with each step he took. Before you were so rudely interrupted, he was asking for more time with you. He said he enjoyed himself and wanted to continue exploring each other. But as you watched him walk past the cafe window it dawned on you that you hadn’t even exchanged numbers. You didn’t even tell him your last name. The longer you sat with them, his parting words started to sound like a goodbye. Maybe he had changed his mind after he witnessed the crazy in your life up close. Or maybe he had never really wanted more at all and he was good with using pretty words.

You turned the full weight of your distress on your mother who had taken up Anthony’s vacated seat. “I cannot believe you just did that…”

“Don’t look at me like that, honey…” she was squirming under your heated stare. “Maybe if you would have been responsible and answered your phone I wouldn’t have been forced to take such drastic measures. You can’t just drop off the map like that. How am I supposed to leave you here alone if I can’t trust that you’re being safe?”

She was your mother, and you loved her… but if you didn’t put a stop to this right now and establish clear boundaries, your relationship might reach a point beyond repair.

“Except I can just drop off the map if I want to, mom. I’m a grown woman. I’m not obligated to check in with you before every choice I make. I do those things because I love you, and I know how much you worry - not because you’ve ordered me to do it. I think you’re forgetting that I’m not a child you can control anymore.”

She jumped in, eager to defend herself, “I’m not trying to control you, honey. I just want you to be safe. I’ve been doing this whole mom thing for a long time. I think I’m fairly qualified in knowing what’s best for you.”

A long, exasperated sigh filled the space between you. “I know you mean well, Mom, but this has got to stop. You don’t even see how inappropriate that just was. We need to set up some healthy boundaries. We can’t be codependent forever. Don’t you have things you want to do for yourself? Things you want to do with Dad? Things you have put off for thirty years so that you could put all your love and energy into me? I know I have things that I’d like to experience for myself. I don’t want to be stagnant. I need to challenge myself. Try new things - meet new people.”

She scoffed, “New people… you mean men.”

“Men would be considered people, Mom…” you took a deep breath and tried to reign in your temper. “And I think I was doing a pretty good job until you barged in here like a crazy person and literally asked him to leave. He was nice. I liked him. And you probably just ruined it.”

Remorse started to transform the stubborn resolve written on her face. “He was unreasonably handsome, wasn’t he?” She smiled warmly at your emphatic nod, but if the lip now pinned between her teeth was any indication, she had more to say on the matter. “But honey, do you really think dating is what you should be focused on right now? You’ve been through so much, and if my memory serves me, dating can be stressful.”

Understanding dawned on you. She didn’t want your new heart broken or damaged. In her eyes, it was all so fragile - so delicate. Why would she think anything else? You had let her treat you like a porcelain doll for the past year.

“If not now, then when? If I’ve learned anything from this year it’s that time is never promised. Whatever time I’ve been gifted, I don’t want to waste it. I don’t want regrets and what-ifs. I want to be in love. I want someone to know me. I want a family one day. I want to get up in the morning with purpose and drive. I want to fail and get back up again. I want to live, Mom… And I can’t do that with you strapped around me like a life vest.”

It was as if I had slapped her squarely across the face. Tears pooled at the corners of her widening eyes. “What are you saying, y/n?”

“I’m saying…” you stopped, making sure to choose the words with care. “I’m saying that I think you should go home to Dad. He needs you too, you know? Go home and unclench, mom. I’ll be okay. Trust that you’ve raised me to be capable, smart and resilient.”

She couldn’t look at you now. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest and she reached up discreetly to wipe an errant tear from her cheek. Rejection chafed at her pride, but you could see that she was fighting the instinct to push back in obstinance. “I do miss your dad…” she sniffled. “And I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to trust you to take care of yourself for a few months. You’ll be home soon anyway - with the hotel running so smoothly. As soon as you hire a manager for them, you can come back to New York.”

The wave of disappointment that you felt at the prospect of her words was waterboarding you. That’s when you knew - You had to take this job. It might be terrifying, but nothing else made sense. “Actually, Mom, there is something that I need to talk to you about…”

~~~~~~~~~~

The day spent with your mother was emotionally exhausting. There was a lot of crying, a little yelling, some desperate bargaining, but eventually she yielded to your decisions. The terms of her departure came with stipulations. You weren’t allowed to go more than two days without talking - though she preferred no more than one - and in person visits were a non-negotiable. She also wanted to be kept in the loop on the dating front, claiming she didn’t want to be left out on the girl talk, but you didn’t miss the fact that she mumbled something about grandchildren under her breath.

All in all, you were happy with how it all went. It was a hard conversation to have but somehow your relationship already felt better for it. It was the first adult decision you had made for yourself in a long time. She was leaving at the end of the week and you were looking forward to the opportunity to miss her. You were already excited to plan your first visit back home. It had been too long since you saw your dad or any of your friends.

The blissful high of resolved emotions slowly started to fade with each of your steps as you walked home from your mother’s hotel. It was replaced by an excited, anxious buzz that tingled beneath your skin and turned your stomach topsy-turvy. You had just made a huge decision that was about to change the entire course of your life. You were taking on new ventures in new places, surrounded by new people. No more safety net. It was time to sink or swim.

Speaking of sinking - your heart had been steadily sinking in your chest all day. Anthony Bridgerton was the first man in a long, long time to make you feel like putting yourself out there might be worth it. You tried to tell yourself to keep your expectations low. It started as nothing more than an exhilarating experiment to reach for your own desires, and you were content with that. He had given you an amazing night, taking you to places of pleasure that no one else had even gotten close to - But then he started making plans. He started wanting more. Or at least it seemed that way. Maybe you had been seeing things through the lens of wishful thinking. Maybe you had misread it all.

The worst part was - now you’d never know. Even though your time together had been brief, it was easy to see him in your life. He challenged you in a way that you craved. Conversation with him stimulated your mind, body, and soul. His lips, his eyes, the way he smelled… His laugh, his frown, the way he tasted… Everything about him made you ache. How were you supposed to keep walking around life pretending that the most intoxicating man you had ever met didn’t just slip through your fingers? Living in the same city, but having him just out of reach, would be a customized form of torture. An insatiable itch that would never stop.

A list of ways to find him again were already forming in your mind. You knew his full name, so naturally your first step was to check all forms of social media - He had none. Clearly, he was a private person. Thanks to your mom, you even knew where he worked. A quick Google search pulled up a wealth of information that you quickly filed away as useless to you. You weren’t trying to give off stalker vibes. Maybe you would just get lucky and fate would steer you back towards each other again.

You resigned yourself to the depressing notion of waiting as you approached the door of your apartment. Sighing heavily, you searched fruitlessly though the contents of your purse for your keys. “Uugghhh! I have got to get a smaller bag. This is ridiculous. Every damn time!”

Your fingers finally grazed across the cool brass of your keys. They twisted noisily in your lock, seconds away from the comfort of home, when a familiar voice called out to you. “Miss y/l/n! I was hoping I’d catch you. Wait just one moment.”

Your sweet, but nosey, elderly neighbor from across the hall shuffled her way towards you. “Hello Mrs. Finch. How are you this evening?”

A moment of panic flashed through you as you remembered your hallway dalliance with Anthony the night before. You prayed she wasn’t coming to admonish you for it. “I’m doing well, though I suspect maybe not as good as you.” The knowing look she gave you made you want to duck behind the nearby plant to hide.

Thankfully, a playful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and you could have sworn you saw her wink. “Mrs. Finch, I’m so sorry about that. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

She waved you off dismissively, “Nonsense, girl! If I were your age I’d be doing the exact same thing. Maybe a little more frequently, but still…” You released the breath you had been holding when you were positive she wasn’t here to yell. “I won’t keep you long, I just thought you’d like to know there was a handsome young man here tonight looking for you. I heard him knocking on your door. When you didn’t answer, I got worried that maybe he was bothering you. You’re usually home at this time of night.”

Her sleuthing skills were truly unparalleled. It was a little unnerving that she knew the ins and outs of your schedule so well, but it felt good to know that you had one more person looking out for you. Her snooping was harmless. Mostly, you thought, she was just lonely and bored. From now on you were going to try to make more of an effort to socialize with her.

“He was very friendly though. And my god, that smile!” Her cheeks blushed slightly at the memory. “Men like that are the best kind of trouble. I’d give him a chance if I were you.”

Hope started to ring in your ears. From the description, there was only one person she could be talking about, but you needed to be sure. “It’s very sweet of you to worry after me like that. I appreciate you telling me. Did he happen to give you his name?”

“No,” she said with a hint of annoyance. “But, he did leave something for you. He asked if I’d keep it safe until you got home.”

Leaning back into her flat, she returned with a white box that was wrapped with a beautiful blue silk bow. She smiled warmly and squeezed your hand. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you're dying to get inside and open it. Keep me posted on how this all turns out. I’m deathly curious.”

“Thank you, Mrs Finch.” Testing the waters, you stepped in to offer a hug. She only hesitated for a moment before squeezing you back. “I’ll let you know if he is as much trouble as he seems.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you ran your hands over the smooth surface of the sturdy box. Flipping on the light and locking the door, you made your way to the small table in your kitchen. Why were you so nervous? It was just a gift. But if it wasn’t from who you were hoping, you knew you’d be crushed.

The silk of the bow caressed your fingertips as you pulled gently on its edges. You’d definitely keep it. The cool blue shade of it would look beautiful and delicate tied up in your hair. Lifting the lid, your brows scrunched with confusion. Inside was a leather bound book - the same color as the silky ribbon - and a small note card. Scribed with elegant flowing letters, it read:

For your new job. You know you want it, so bloody take it already.

~ A

P.S. - I’ve taken the liberty of listing my contact information under the Resources tab inside. In case you ever find yourself in need of my services again…

A day planner. And sure enough, inside you found his name and cell phone number neatly scratched on the crisp white page. You giggled when you saw the tiny heart replacing one of the letters in his name. Mrs. Finch was right - The best kind of trouble indeed.

Carefully flipping through, you took in all the little details hidden in the pages. The paper was thick and professional. You’d be able to use all sorts of pens without worrying about the ink bleeding through. The craftsmanship of the leather was impressive. You didn’t want to know how much something of this quality cost.

You were about to turn back to his phone number when something else caught your eye. Penciled in on the upcoming Friday was a reminder.

Celebratory dinner with Anthony - 8pm

You took your phone from your purse and snapped a picture of the marked date, simultaneously adding his name to your contacts. You didn’t bother telling him it was you. He’d know…

Y: What are we celebrating?

Your heart started to race when you saw those three little dots appear, indicating his immediate impending response.

A: Your new job. Obviously.

You laughed out loud imagining him doing a terrible Professor Snape impression.

Y: That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?

Again, a quick response.

A: No.

A: I’ll pick you up at 7:30.

Six days… You only had to wait six days.

_________________________________________________

@faye-tale @musicismyoxygen84 @angels17324 @bridgertontess @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @queenofmean14 @heeyyyou

#Anthony Bridgerton x Reader #Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader #Anthony Bridgerton x You #Anthony Bridgerton fanfiction #Bridgerton Fanfiction #Anthony Bridgerton and Reader #Anthony Bridgerton and Female Reader #Anthony Bridgerton and You

101 notes · View notes