#i'm sad i'm not doing anything with a/chilles yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gotham-daydreams · 8 months

Text

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

#this was all written in one go #so that's fun #more angst than anything honestly #not really any yan but it is supposed to be for yan stuff #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #sibling reader #reader tries too hard and does their best but finds out it isn't enough #some things just aren't meant to be #but that doesn't mean they get to run around scott free either #not series

3K notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing.

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather.

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend.

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water.

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps.

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later.

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events.

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made.

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears.

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just…

Your thoughts trail off.

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close.

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him.

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for.

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.”

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple.

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches.

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break.

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.”

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils.

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.”

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound.

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment.

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip.

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was.

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow.

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out.

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him.

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time.

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket.

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing.

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see.

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked.

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily.

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest.

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded.

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again.

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause.

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock.

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks.

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees.

You’d never been like this before – always so happy.

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?”

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower.

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?”

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.”

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that.

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch.

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head.

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing.

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on.

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more.

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face.

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.”

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead.

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation.

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall.

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go…

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned.

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him.

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply.

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course.

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?”

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs.

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory.

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms.

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns.

She feels safe with me.

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.”

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek.

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh.

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs.

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?”

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?”

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up.

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!”

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.”

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off.

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound.

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind.

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him.

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress.

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering.

“Sei mein?” Be mine?

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes.

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent.

Smiling.

3K notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

Note

i'd like to order whiskey with mikey berzatto and 'don't go anywhere i can't follow', thank you <3

Follow You.

warnings - just a little hint at sexual content. and lots of fluff.

my first mikey fic!! I almost made this really sad, but decided against it. you should all be grateful. it was gonna be brutal. I adore mr bernthal and mikey too. <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

He'd made a promise to you, one night.

Tucked up in bed, sheets strewn across your bodies, limbs tangled, hearts content.

You always get clingy, in the afterglow. Like to plaster yourself to him, making sure he doesn't go far.

Mikey gets up to grab you some water, but you whine and pull him back to you by his wrist.

"Sweet girl," he chuckles. "I'm just going to the kitchen."

You smile and climb onto him from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck. He stands up and piggybacks you all the way across the apartment.

"Don't go anywhere I can't follow," you whisper in his ear, half sincere, half joking.

He sets you on the counter, brushing your hair back from your eyes.

"I won't, baby. I promise."

That promise seemed sacred to him.

He locked himself in the walk in refrigerator at The Beef, one afternoon.

The both of you were crying with laughter, in disbelief at the absurdity of the situation. It was just the two of you in the restaurant, everyone else at home.

"Michael! You haven't frozen to death, right?"

"Not yet, honey!"

You're scrambling around, trying to find a screwdriver or a hammer or a wrench or anything that could be remotely useful. Your sides hurt, a giggle escaping you every now and again.

Eventually, you break him out. A mixture of smacking the lock with a mallet and Mikey kicking it as hard as he could did the trick.

You throw your arms around him, both of you still laughing.

"What did I say, huh?" you tease, leaning up to press a kiss to his cold lips. "Don't go anywhere I can't follow. That includes walk in refrigerators."

"I won't do it again, I promise," he murmurs against your mouth, hands grabbing at your hips, seeking your body's warmth. He wraps himself around you, still chuckling.

Years later, gold bands on both of your ring fingers, you're sat out on the porch. Cigarette between your fingers, sleeves pulled down your wrists to shield yourself from the Chicago chill, your husband's chest warm and solid behind you.

He's been quiet for too long. It's unusual.

You turn in his arms to face him, fingertips stroking across his cheekbones.

"Mikey," you murmur under your breath. "You with me?"

He nods, blinking back to reality.

"Where did you go, huh?"

He smiles softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

"Nowhere, baby. Just thinking."

"You made a promise, remember?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't go anywhere I can't follow. That includes in there."

You tap a finger against his temple. He laughs.

"I was thinking about how lucky I am. To have met you. To get to love you."

"I'm the lucky one," you whisper, choking back tears.

"That's up for debate, baby."

Snow starts to fall, flakes scattering your sweaters. You lean back into your husband, his strong arms wrapped around you tightly. The two of you watch the winter come in, bodies warm and hearts content.

#mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #the bear imagine #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fluff #murphy's 3k celebration #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto fluff #michael berzatto fluff #jon bernthal #the bear #mikey berzatto x reader fluff #michael berzatto x reader fluff #michael berzatto imagine #mikey berzatto imagine #the bear x you #the bear x y/n

515 notes · View notes

justporo · 8 months

Note

Astarion owns property in my head at this point. Can I request for Astarion and Tav where they finally settle down after everything with the Absolute is over and has finally calmed down, and Tav immediately gets extremely sick. Nothing deadly, but still severe. After all the stress from the tadpoles and fighting for their lives, Tav's body kinda just gives out. I'd imagine Astarion would be at a complete loss at taking care of someone, let alone someone that sick lol probably gets scared they're dying too

Oh, Anon, I feel you. It's not that he lives in my head rentfree, no! He owns the building and makes ME pay the rent by now...

This request resonates a lot with me, today, because I'm frankly barely holding on atm, my stomach's acting up and I can't wait for the finishline for this week... so I too could actually use some Astarion taking care of me - although if that might help? Let's see! (Spoilers ahead)

This is pure ridiculous fluff btw. And thank you for the sweet request!

Pairing: Astarion / GN!Tav (You) Wordcount: 1,5k

Strawberry Sugar High

You hadn't left the bed for the better part of a week and you felt you had contracted most every kind of ailment that one could suffer from under this sun. You felt shaky and dizzy. Your limbs hurt and felt weak. Your stomach was in a weird limbo of feeling strange and barely allowing you to keep anything down. Radiating heatwaves making your whole body sweat came and switched places with icy chills so even the coziest of blankets couldn't stop you from shivering. You were down bad - and Astarion almost scaled the walls not knowing what to do with you or how to take care of you.

"My sweet, I brought you...", Astarion started to announce cheerfully as he opened the door to your bedroom with a bowl and a steaming mug in his hands. Then he saw how you had hogged every possible piece of fabric in your giant joint bed and had wrapped yourself in it. At the sight of it, Astarion's shoulders slumped visibly and with it his procured goods - which almost caused scorching hot tea to splash on the floor.

“…some fruit and tea”, he finished audibly distraught and walked over to sit somewhat next to where you had rolled up into a mess of sheets and blankets and were silently shivering. He carefully placed down mug and bowl on the nightstand before he turned to the pile that you had become.

“I really thought you were getting better, my love!” The sad and suffering puppy eyes he made at you almost made you think he was the one to be worried about.

“Y-you say t-that every-ytime you le-leave the room and co-ome back, A-Astarion”, you replied through shattering teeth which sadly took the edge off of your snide remark.

“I know, love. Because every time I hope you might would have started to feel better. But you’ve been like this for almost a week and yet no improvement in sight. You have me worried sick!”, he dramatically explained.

The shivers temporarily left your body to allow you to give Astarion a death stare – the audacity of this man. “I am so terribly sorry that I dare put you through th-this. Now please h-hand me the t-tea!”, you sarcastically replied and worked your hands out of the mountain of blankets to stretch them out towards the nightstand where the vampire had placed the mug.

Astarion handed you the mug. “Careful, it’s scorching ho…”, he said while you grabbed it from him and placed your palms around the hot ceramic and sighed at the bliss of warmth.

Astarion stared at you as if you had turned into an ox.

You took in the smell of the fresh brew and sighed again – pine needles, mint, chamomile, and a hint of lavender. You took a sip slowly because it was actually really hot and closed your eyes for a second. The hot drink temporarily made you feel better.

“You really got the right mixture down now, Astarion, thank you!”, you said as you opened your eyes again and smiled broadly at the vampire who had swung his legs onto the bed and crossed them by the ankles – bare feet sticking out of the pant legs – to sit beside you. At your compliment his face lit up, his eyes filling with sincere joy.

“Well, I’m happy to hear I am proficient at taking care of you, my sweet sick darling”, he said and raised one of his eyebrows in arrogant manner. “Well, let’s not forget the time when you didn’t strain the pine needles or when you tried to make mushroom soup and created bile”, you replied to his cocky demeanour and then took another sip of tea. The shivers were really calming down now.

Astarion’s mouth became a straight line. “Well, I am sorry, but it’s been over two hundred years since I last had to know my way around a kitchen – you’d be surprised how easily forgotten mundane things are”, he pouted but stretched out his arm to rub circles on your back – or what he thought must be your back under the thick padding of fabric.

You were fairly certain, Astarion had never really known his way around a kitchen, but you really didn’t want to rub it in since he was actually trying so hard to take care of you. And he had really been worried sick about you since it seemed he had also forgotten how much impact even a rather harmless sickness could have on a mortal body.

“Feeling better now?”, Astarion asked while he kept rubbing your back. This time there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm or arrogance in his tone, just a sincere, caring question.

“I am. Thank you, my heart”, you answered and turned a bit to him to give him another smile. “I guess after everything that happened my body was just in dire need of a break – and now forced me to take it. I guess in a few days I’ll be merrily dallying around again”, you spoke as you looked at Astarion but then spied past him to where you had seen something of interest in the bowl he had brought.

“I’m happy to hear that, my sweet, because I don’t know…”, the vampire replied with a smile then furrowed his brows as he saw your focus shift past him and you leaned to look behind him. He made to lean with you. “My beautiful eyes are up here, my love”, he murmured playfully.

But you craned your neck now to see what it was he had brought you – broad shoulders and handsome face be damned. “Gods, are those strawberries?” “Indeed, sweetheart.”

Your mouth opened and you stared at Astarion in anticipation: “Where did you get them? Those are not in season for a few more months! I love strawberries, they’re my favourite fruit, no, food!” Your eyes gleamed at the vampire who replied with a smug grin: “I know, darling. I am actually a good listener in case you hadn’t noticed yet.”

You stretched to give him a kiss which almost resulted in you falling over and spilling all of the remaining tea. Your heart filled with an incredible amount of joy – not only because there were strawberries to be had, but because you felt so seen by your soulmate. You smiled at Astarion. “Indeed, you are”, you happily cheered him. He smiled back just as warmly.

“I got them from a place where they magically empower the crops. It did almost cost me an arm and the rest of my dignity though, but here we are”, he explained jokingly to which you raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

“Feed me!”, you then demanded excitedly when he didn’t spill any more details. To which the vampire grinned even more broadly, showing his sharp fangs in the process. “Oh love, I am more than happy to indulge you in this pleasant reversal of roles”, he crooned and turned around to grab the bowl of fruit while you kept sipping on your herbal tea.

He grabbed one of the deep red fruits and slowly lifted it to your already excitedly opened mouth. You were almost salivating, as Astarion offered you the berry, holding it elegantly in his long, slender fingers. The fruit almost touched your lips, but then, at the last possible moment: the vampire flicked it in his own mouth with his thumb.

Your mouth stayed open but now in a desperate expression while Astarion chewed. His facial expression became confused then pleasantly surprised, not even looking at you for a moment. “Oh dear, these are actually rather good. I had almost also forgotten how good these taste. I haven’t eaten a strawberry in forever.” He gave a quick high-pitched laugh while still looking a bit confused. This certainly had awoken a memory he had probably thought lost forever. But still – weren’t these for you?

“Excuse me, my tragic darling vampire, I really love you rediscovering your love for these mortal pleasures known as fruit, but weren’t these meant to soothe my sufferings?”, you said and pouted at Astarion. He readily replied by finally offering you one – for real this time, while he smirked at you and stole another one for himself.

As you bit down the taste just about exploded in your mouth. They were perfectly delicious and sweet. You sighed blissfully and let your head fall back with closed eyes. You were definitely feeling better by the minute.

“So good! Thank you so much for getting them – I feel so much better already!”, you said to Astarion and shimmied over to him to first lean past him and put the mug on the nightstand and then hugging him – arms extending from your ball of blankets.

Astarion pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re welcome, my love. Now – share the rest?” “Only if you promise to get more tomorrow!”

The pale elf threw his head back and laughed. “If that is what it takes to nurse you back to health, I am more than happy to oblige, sweetheart”, he promised with a chuckle before he gave you another of the sweet berries and then popped another strawberry in his own mouth.

Author's note: Okay cool, where do I get strawberries now? Hope you enjoyed!

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #strawberries #drabble #one shot #request

628 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

Hi, i never really do this, but i was wondering if you could write something about remus comforting reader when she gets stood up?(totally not projecting 🥲) And then he ends up confessing that he likes her?

You're supposed to be out on a date. Remus knows this, because he'd been stalking off to the library to distract himself from the thought, but he'd stumbled upon you perched on a windowsill in the hallway outside of the library.

You don't look sad, but you don't look happy. You just look focused, but Remus sees your hand tremble as you turn the page of the book you're reading.

"Hey," He makes his presence known with a soft hum, walking up to stand beside you where you're nestled into the windowsill, "What happened to Hogsmeade?"

"Alexei didn't show," You inform him, voice carefully constructed to be nonchalant, "I got tired of waiting out in the snow."

Remus sets his hand over your free one that's sitting on your lap, feeling your skin chilled from the snow outside.

"Douche," Remus mumbles, but you catch it in the silence of the hallway and snort.

Remus takes your hand in his own and cups it, creating a soft, warm place for it to rest. You don't bother pushing him away, but if were anyone else, you'd tell them in no uncertain terms to fuck off and leave you alone to wallow.

"I wouldn't have done that," Remus doesn't know why he says it, but he does. He thinks it's probably equal parts sympathy and honesty; he's saying it to make you feel better, but it's not a lie.

"You wouldn't have asked me out to Hogsmeade on a Saturday morning," You laugh incredulously, quite possibly missing his point, "I'm surprised you're up this early, Remus, I don't usually see you before lunchtime."

"Well, I couldn't sleep," He grumbles somewhat bashfully, "I had a lot on my mind."

"Sorry," You hum sympathetically, your fingers curling around his to lock your hands together, "I would have brought you something from Honeydukes if I'd have known. Or- if I'd have gone."

He leans closer to you, and you relish how natural it is for you to tilt your head against his shoulder. He peers at the book you're reading, finding it to be a textbook rather than a novel, and groans.

"You still fancy a drink?" Remus asks, his voice almost hesitant as you lay against him on the windowsill.

"Hm? At the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yeah," Remus hums, "You shouldn't be studying for the charms exam yet, it's not for two weeks. You deserve a good day. And- uh, well, hopefully I'm good company."

Your eyes shine exceptionally bright when you tilt your head up to look at Remus, and he can't think of a single reason that Alexei, or anyone else in their right mind would have blown you off.

"You're excellent company, Remus," You gush, scrambling to stuff your things back into your bag, "I'll treat at Honeydukes, 'kay?"

"No, no," Remus shakes his head, "Don't worry about it. I meant it, you deserve a good day."

"Thanks," You slide down off of the windowsill, your hand still firmly interlocked with his own. You make no move to let go, merely tugging him down the hallway towards the staircases, "Are you sure you don't mind taking me? Weren't you headed to the library?"

"Not for anything important," Remus brushes away your concern, just to figure out a way to curse Alexei for the rest of the school year with bad breath and terrible hair.

571 notes · View notes

gunthermunch · 7 months

Text

[Transcript under the cut]

Bluma: rows and flows of angled- angel hair Bluma: and ice cream castles in the air and fa-feather UGH canyons everywhere Mila: can i join you? Bluma: …singing? Mila: sitting. Bluma: oh. that's better, i'm not a good singer Mila: me neither, but i do love that song. Bluma: mmmnhgh Mila: what's wrong, pumpkin? Bluma: i lied to you, the guys from school are right. i do avoid my classmates as of lately Mila: oh, Bluma- why are you keeping all this to yourself? Bluma shrugs Bluma: they don't even like me anyways. it's not like my parents can do anything about it Mila: hmm… Bluma: i'm not letting my mom kill a child! Mila: who said anything about killing someone? Bluma: i know your ploty face! Bluma: sighs Bluma: …one day this girl Orla asked me why i didn't like getting my pictures taken and i told her it's because it makes me sad i get to show up on them and my mom doesn't and she just backed off. and then some kids laughed. i thought Orla was nice Bluma: i just wish i got to feel normal outside of my house one day Mila: you'll find your people, munchkin. you're just so little still Mila: and you know who used to struggle in a similar way? Bluma: who? Mila: grandpa. Bluma: … i guess we both have a coconut allergy Mila: oh not Marcus darling i meant- Mila: I guess your dad didn't tell you about Ernest yet. Bluma: who's Ernest? Mila: your father and uncles' dad, and my very first big big love, and husband. Bluma: …wait Bluma: Marcus is not my real grandpa?! Mila: darling you have two real grandpas. Bluma: okay this can be great. where is he? Mila: oh uh- he- is… gone, honey. Bluma: hm. my luck today is really bad. Bluma: how did he fix himself anyways? Mila: well, he didn't. we just found each other and made a family Mila: and then you eventually came along. So… let's say i love a nice weirdo Bluma: i appreciate your honesty, Mila Munch. Mila: thank you. Bluma sighs in relief Bluma: i like this room Mila: i still think it stinks, but if you like it we can make it yours next summer Bluma: really? Mila: of course. Bluma: can we hang stars from the ceiling Mila: yes. Bluma: and can i triple braid your hair while we watch TV? Mila: oh yes. Bluma: i love you grandma Mila: i love you too, my baby.

WG: yeah there's no way im sending this. sorry Marcus: it's chill. do you feel better tho? WG: kinda. who knew Gunther was right about that writing your feelings over thing Marcus: speaking of that, what are you even doing over there? WG: uhh uncleing? and i guess i've been playing a lot of guitar. and singing WG: i stopped sucking a little Marcus: man you should totally try and make something out of that. get out! travel! make yourself a city guy! WG: aha… who knows really. WG: hey uh thank you. i didn't mean to dump all that onto you. Lucas did say something about you being great at this but holy shit Marcus: eh, i'm just a mama's boy that watched too many telenovelas with her. Mila: and it shows. Marcus: heeyy Mils!

WG: HEY Blooms! let's get you home already

Bluma: coming!!

#aha.....#ts4 #ts4 story #munch #wolfgang munch #mila munch #marcus flex #bluma vatore

292 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 5 months

Text

In The Low Lamp Light

17/12: Reassurance & Car Sex - Billy Washington Word Count: 1.5k~ | Warnings: mild angst, p in v sex, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), praise

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

She sighs as she locks up, huffing her coat on in the chill of the late evening. She's able to see her breath as she yawns, tapping her foot as she waits for the tell-tale sound of the squeaky shift from fourth gear to third. The inevitable sound of Billy's car as he comes to pick her up.

She smooths her hands over her cold and aching legs, needing nothing more right now than to just curl up on the sofa under a blanket and sleep like she's dead.

Billy's car screeches down the road, amber headlights aglow, right on time as usual.

It doesn't take a genius. She can tell right away when he pulls up and doesn't even look in her direction that he's got a mard on.

It's something that used to bother her. But now, after knowing and being with him for so long, she knows all the little tells, all his mannerisms.

He won't be able to keep quiet about what he's thinking for long when confronted with silence.

Billy rests his head on his fist as it leans against the window, keeping the car running as she gets in, preparing herself for yet another monologue. She complains in her head, but really, she'd rather he tell her than just keep it in.

He's wearing his dark green jacket over a jumper, and she can see as soon as she shuts the door how his knee is bouncing.

“Good day at work?” he asks, dispassionately.

She presses her lips together giving him a smile, nodding, like she knows something is wrong.

“Alright, ta,” she replies, knowing what she's about to say next might start him off, “you?”

He simply puts the car in gear and drives off, “Yeah, fine.”

Her eyes narrow. He's not looked at her once.

She's surprised that he lasts as long as he does to be fair. Without the radio on, and only the sound of his Vauxhall's grinding revs to drown out the silence, she can see how his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

“No…actually…it wasn't fine…”, he says quietly, almost too quiet to really hear without leaning over.

“Why?”

Billy scoffs, shaking his head, “I'm just a fucking idiot.”

Oh, hell no. We are not doing this.

Luckily, the route Billy is taking home goes through a dark single carriageway, covered by foliage with ample place to pull over.

“Park up.”

It's the first time he looks over at her. Brows arched in confusion.

“Eh?”

“Park. Up.”

He even sighs as he does, slowing to a full stop and tugging up the handbrake like it's the most difficult thing in the world.

“Turn the car off.”

He does. Moving his fingers to the bridge of his nose. By now wishing he'd said nothing at all.

“Do you wanna run that by me again?” she prods.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you calling yourself a ‘fucking idiot’, Billy.”

He sighs, “I really didn't wanna do this.”

“It's not an argument, Billy. Can you just tell me, plainly, what's happened? No…self-deprecation.”

His finger taps idly on the steering wheel, both of their breaths fogging up the car.

“I'm just…finding it hard”.

She cocks her head, gaze softening.

“It's not the same as…fixing up my old banger. Just feels like I don't know anything…”

There it is. That look on his face.

The one he always has when he's giving up on himself.

“Billy, they wouldn't have taken you on if they thought you couldn't do it-”

“I know. I'm just not hacking it-”

“Billy”, she says it flatly, hoping to grab his attention.

And she nearly softens right up when his baby blues look over at her from the driver's seat, all shiny and sad.

“Listen to me. I know, I know, how hard it's been for you to get any work. And now that you have, you're just trying to find something else to beat yourself up about.”

She sees how Billy swallows, nervously smoothing his hands over his jeans, like he doesn't know what to do when praised. It so rarely happened from anyone else before.

“You've done so well, Billy. And…as far as knowledge goes, if you don't know how to do something or…if you don't know what something is, ask.”

She reaches for his arm, wanting to show him with her touch, just how much she means it.

“There is no harm in asking. And give yourself some credit. Half the guys there have been doing this way longer than you and can barely hold their dick in a straight line.”

Some of the tension is lessened when he gives a breathy laugh, no doubt blushing as well as he looks into his lap. And she's relieved to see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I'm so proud of you, you know.”

It just came out so naturally she didn't even think twice about saying it. But she's forced to rethink about the weight of it when he looks up to her, their faces bathed in the minimal glow of the street lights outside.

But he doesn't say anything, making a warmth creep into her cheeks as he studies her.

“What?”

A surprised squeak is all that's able to leave her mouth as Billy pulls her by the back of her neck to crash his lips to hers. An urgent, needed kiss. One of pure necessity, but warming nonetheless in her gut.

His clothes smell of engine oil, something she'd become pleasantly accustomed to since Billy started this new job. And it's shameful to admit, but she rather likes the rugged, masculine scent that vapes off of him when they're in the throes of it.

Now is no different.

She melts into him as his tongue sweeps over her bottom lip, caressing hers, before pulling away with a soft click.

“Say it again, please…”

Her lips part involuntarily as his fingers run into her hair, tugging her close to him as he mouths at her neck.

“Um…I am…I'm proud of you…”

She can feel his breath against her neck as he sighs, as if those are the sweetest words she's ever said to him.

Her eyes dart around as Billy presses himself up against her, able to see the effect all this is having concealed beneath his boxers.

“Billy, someone could see-”

“I don't care.”

She squeals again as Billy pulls the lever up on the passenger seat, laying the back down flat so she faces the roof. He is quick to follow on top of her, emboldened perhaps by the fact that the road is dark and clear with being so late at night, and there is nothing around them but fields and trees.

His knee parts her legs, chest pressed against hers as his full lips make their way down her neck to her collarbone.

Her chest feels all tight, stomach doing backflips at the thought of doing this so unabashedly in his car. But she doesn't protest. Instead she watches his face as he edges down her body, eventually reaching her leggings where his impatient hands tug at the waistband.

“Billy…”

He doesn't even wait to pull down her underwear before he dives between her thighs, mouthing at her clothed centre like he's been thinking about it all day.

“- fuck -”

All breath is shot out of her throat when Billy collects her underwear in his fingers and tugs them hastily aside, flattening his warm, wet muscle against her bundle of nerves in a sensation that has her back arch off the seat slightly.

Her hand finds his hair, the sandy tresses spilling through her fingers, pulling him towards her in micro-movements as he feasts on her, moaning outright as he does it. It does well to drown out the muffled sounds of a car flying past the single carriageway outside.

She is sure it's never felt this good before as she grinds unceremoniously on his face, searching for friction. And she feels the way his hands wrench her thighs apart, wanting more of her taste.

“Oh - fuck, Billy -”

Warmth creeps into her gut as Billy quickens, moving down to fuck her with his tongue as his thumb moves to her clit so the sensation is not abandoned. And both of these dull, pleasurable feelings at once has electricity firing off in her blood, not realising how hard she's pulling on him.

Her orgasm is followed by a choked cry, her hips chasing his lips and tongue as she rides it out. All Billy can do is lap up whatever she gives him, her essence coating his lips in the most erotic way, the car smelling of sex and their bodies.

He pulls away just enough to undo his jeans and lay back on top of her, his lips finding hers again and allowing her to taste the heady, musky juices that have coated them. She'd be embarrassed if she heard how she moaned as the head of his cock pushed past her slick folds, spearing her open around him.

She desperately hopes that another car doesn't come by as theirs has now started to bob with movements that cannot be explained with anything else other than sex. Although secretly, excitement bubbles inside her at the thought.

So she holds onto him, raising her legs around him to aid him deeper inside her, smiling lovingly when he gruffs.

“Say it again.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy

#billy washington x oc #billy washington x y/n #billy washington x reader #billy washington #billy washington x you #billy washington smut #billy washington fic #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington trigger point #trigger point series #trigger point fanfic #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #12 days of smuff #billy washington x fem!reader #billy washington x female reader

229 notes · View notes

haziwritesstuff · 4 months

Text

the happiest girl

But tonight, I'll be the happiest girl in the world. You'll see like it never happened.

Modern! Aemond x reader Wordcount | 1.8k Warnings | Aegon's a cheating bastard, sadness, mostly fluff.

Aegon took nothing in life serious. And your relationship with him… Was just one of those things. You loved him and you believed he loved you, to some degree at least. He just happens to love himself and his own needs more.

You were staring at the message you received on Instagram from some girl. She was claiming that she had a relationship with him. Part of you wanted to scold her but you decided against it. You always had some suspicion about it, he came home a lot later, he didn’t look at you the way he used to. Somewhere, somehow you saw it coming. But it still hurts. It feels like your heart was shattered in a million pieces and there was no one to pick them up. The apartment you shared with him did not feel the same anymore. What once was a place of happiness and comfort, is now a place of dread. Because that is what you felt right now, you dread to see him. But you had to know. Time was ticking by slowly as you were waiting for him to come home.

Finally you heard him stumble in. He wasn’t aware of anything… It was like every other day, but this one was different. You could feel a sense of foreboding, almost as if you expected it to happen, but it still hit you like a wave of bitter salt water.

As if you were drowning, struggling to keep your head above water. You saw him stumble in, drunk and unaware, yet you didn't feel rage or despair, just a deep sense of sadness and disappointment. He came towards you and sat down on the couch, still not aware that you were aware of his affair. "Hi there love," He tried to kiss you. "Don't." Your voice was cold as ice, and a chill ran through your body. He looked at you with a drunken grin and giggled. "Come on girl, it's just a little bit of fun. Lighten up!" "Aegon I know about her." Aegon's face went blank. He sat up straight and looked at you with a cold and emotionless gaze. "Her? What are you talking about?" "The woman you've been sleeping with. I've seen the messages. Don't give me any bullshit right now, I know the truth, and you know it too." Aegon swallowed – you were not supposed to find out. "I expected more from you. I thought you were better than this. But you're obviously just a coward who can't even keep his pants on. How could you do this to me, to our relationship? I trusted you and you broke it. You know what? I can't stand the sight of you right now. I'm going out. Don't expect me back."

It was cold outside, but the cold air felt refreshing after the suffocating atmosphere inside the apartment. You walked to the nearest bus stop, your tears streaming down your cheeks. You felt heartbroken and angry, and you didn't know where to go or who to turn to. All you wanted was to be held and consoled, to be taken care of and loved. But that seemed like an impossible dream, now more than ever. You wished you could turn back time and undo everything that had happened, but you knew that wasn't possible.

You suddenly felt your phone buzzing. Aegon sent you a text message, "Please come home. I want to talk. We can fix this." You read the text message and hesitated. On the one hand, you wanted to believe that he was really sorry and would change his ways. But on the other, you knew that deep down inside, he had been cheating on you for a very long time, so no matter what he said, nothing could really change that. And in all honesty you had nothing left to say. You sent him a text message back, "Don't contact me again. I'm not coming home. We're done." He responded with the usual, "I'm sorry, I promise I can change. Just give me another chance, I can't lose you. I will do anything for you."

"You're not the one who gets to cry." Tears started to fall again. You turned off your phone because you didn't want to hear any more of his excuses and lies. You stood at the bus stop, trying to calm yourself down, but all you could do was cry.

You wanted to have a drink to numb your pain and clear your head. You walked to a nearby bar and walked inside, taking a seat at the bar. You waited for the bartender to come over and order a glass of wine. “Put it on my tab.” A voice behind you spoke. Your eyes widened in surprise when you saw Aemond. You looked at him for a moment, surprised that he was here and that he was the one who offered to pay for your drink. "Aemond... What are you doing here?" He smiled at you, "I was just here having a drink with some friends when I saw you. I saw that you looked troubled, so I decided to come over and see if you're alright. I didn't think I'd see you here..." “Oh ehm… Aegon and I… We broke up…” Aemond's expression changed, becoming more empathetic. "I see... I'm so sorry to hear that. It must've been really hard for you. Do you need someone to talk to?" He didn't seem surprised, not at all. Aemond took a step closer to you and put his right arm around your back. You could feel the warmth of his body and it felt calming. He asked, "Can I tell you something?” You nod at him, you've always liked Aemond. He was different but in a good way.

He took a sip from his drink and looked at you. "I know we've been friends for a long time, but I can't lie to you. I've always had feelings for you. I know that's not something you probably want to hear right now, but I couldn't just keep it to myself. I understand though if you're not interested in me the same way, but if you will, let me comfort you, just this one time. You need someone right now, and I'd like to be the one you turn to."

You were speechless. Aemond continued, "I know it's unfair to confess my love for you in this situation, but I didn't want to miss this opportunity. I've always had a huge crush on you, and maybe this was the universe's way of letting us know that we needed each other. I know this may not be the right time for us to begin a relationship, but if you're open to that idea, I would be more than happy to be here for you and support you through this difficult time."

It took you a while to progress all of that information. You finally find the courage to speak up, "Aemond, it's really kind of you to say all of that. I can't say I'm not tempted to take you up on your offer, but I'm still a bit shocked by everything that happened. I'm just not sure if I'm ready for a relationship right now, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be cared for and consoled. Could... could we spend some time together, just for tonight?"

Aemond smiled warmly at you, "Absolutely. I totally understand that you're in a fragile state right now, and the most important thing is for you to heal and move on from this situation. I don't want to pressure you into anything you're not ready for. But I do want to be there for you and help you through this difficult time. Is it okay if I sit here with you for a little while? I promise I won't force any unwanted advances on you."

You suddenly realized that if you'd asked Aemond out, instead of allowing Aegon to charm you, everything would have been different. You would never have gone through the heartbreak and disappointment, and you would have had someone who truly loved and respected you all this time. The thought of what could've been started to make you feel a bit down, but Aemond's presence always had a comforting effect on you. You couldn't have asked for a better person to comfort you in this very moment.

"Tell me something funny, Aemond. I'm in desperate need of some laughter." "Hmm, something funny..." Aemond thought for a moment, and then he smiled and said, "What do you get when you cross a banana with an elephant?" "Oh god... I didn't think you'd actually try to tell me a joke!" "Well, I can't say I'm a professional comedian, but I thought it would help lighten the mood. So, what do you get when you cross a banana with an elephant?" You had such a hard time keeping yourself serious. Aemond wasn't a natural funny person but seeing him try this way... Made you feel a certain way. "Just wait for it..." Aemond looked at you with a smirk, enjoying making you laugh. "Okay, ready? Here's the punchline - you get an 'eleph-nana'!"

And for the first time in a while the tears coming from your eyes weren't from hurt or sadness, they were from laughter. The two of you sat at the bar for a while, laughing and joking and enjoying each other's company. After a while, Aemond gently placed his hand on your arm. "Would you mind if we left the bar and went somewhere more private?" Your eyes lit up when he private, "I'd love that."

You could feel the cool air on your face and you saw the stars in the sky, they were exceptionally bright tonight. Aemond took you by the hand and led you to a secluded spot, far from any noise or distractions. He stopped in front of you and looked into your eyes. "Can I ask you something?" "Yeah, you can ask me anything." "Can I kiss you?" You shouldn't want it but you wanted it so badly, you wanted him to make you feel again. “I… Yes.” You whispered. The moment you said that, Aemond quickly leaned forward and kissed you deeply. You could feel his lips against yours and the warmth of his body. It felt amazing, as if all the pain from before had just disappeared. His hands caressed your face and neck as you embraced one another. You were completely swept up in the moment, and there was nothing else besides the two of you. You could feel the rush of hormones and emotions, your heart was beating fast and your breathing was shallow. The feeling was almost overwhelming, but you wanted more. Aemond pulled you closer and his lips pressed against yours with more passion. Your hands ran through his hair and you held him tightly, as if you didn't want the kiss to ever end. Aemond broke the kiss, "Would you like to come to my apartment?" Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes and nodded your head, unable to speak.

But tonight, I’ll be the happiest girl in the world. You’ll see like it never happened.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fluff #aemond one eye #modern aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x oc #modern aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond x you

132 notes · View notes

epickiya722 · 2 months

Note

Can, I ask, why do you think Yuuji is one of the character that is so underated in JJK? He is the mc, but many people (in fandom) treat him like a side character? At first, I don't think so, but I love many shounen, and somehow Yuuji is one of the mc that is underated in their own story....

Sorry if I'm wrong, just I love Yuuji and want him to get the spotlight he deserve....

I wouldn't say you're wrong, Anon! In fact, I would say he is an underrated character. Yes, fairly popular, but when it comes to how the fandom treats him compared to characters like Gojo, Yuji is Underrated.

I feel exactly how you feel about Yuji. To me, he is the best JJK character. Oh, yeah, I'm being bias, whatever, but it's how I feel.

My guess as to why the fandom treats him like a side character because Yuji isn't like how most older gen MCs are written, let alone the others of the cast.

Let's be real, when the mid-late 2010s rolled around, how fandoms started to treat the new age MCs is opposite of their treatment of other MCs. It's because they're a different formula and honestly, I feel like folks who bash on Yuji and others like Tanjiro and Izuku, just don't want to try something different.

They're used to the MCs who speedruns their training and powerups and suffer little to no drawbacks, "trauma, what trauma" and want to be the best because they got an ego and pride they don't want hurt.

Today's MCs? Pain, not afraid to show a range of emotions, training? Oh, they get the hang of it but still a lot to learn and watch out! They have the scars to prove that they almost lost an arm!

Now focusing on Yuji, as I said he's not like other JJK characters.

He's not overpowered, but he's not weak either. He's a bit of a goof and he's says he's an idiot, but he actually isn't all dumb he makes himself out to be. He's not flashy, but he has amazing moments where he gets to show off.

He has a goal to get strong, not being he wants to be the top or anything. He just wants to help people.

He has a sad backstory, but it's only until later we realize how messed up it is and even still we don't have his reaction to realizing those messed up bits. Yuji was raised by his grandfather and he states he is a loner. But unlike how we see with most characters, Yuji is relatively fine with that. He brushes off knowing about his parents, unlike most MCs who would literally beg for answers. He's a loner, but he's not a loser. Note how people around him in his hometown treats him. They gave him a nickname to reflect his impressive physical prowess that amazes them and yet, he doesn't care for the popularity.

Yuji has this balance to him where he's both spontaneous but also pretty chill. A lot of the cast outshines Yuji because they are more showy than Yuji, even calm characters.

Unlike Gojo and even Yuta, Yuji is literally what you call the audience surrogate. Through him, we learn about the Jujutsu world while experiencing (growth).

From the start of their stories (referring to JJK 0 and Gojo's Past Arc), both Gojo and Yuta are established as powerful sorcerers from the start. Yuta may have had inexperienced but he was still recognized as a powerful kid. Both are born lucky with having such powers. The most Yuta and Gojo really develop and change is their personalities and attitudes towards certain ideas. That's it. They don't even have to do anything and immediately their auras show who they are.

In contrast to Yuji, how is he recognized?

As just Sukuna's vessel. Most of the time, he is literally called that. When he's recognized by his strength and abilities it's when he actively has to fight. Then it's like "oh, so he does have capabilities". Yuji actually has to show he can be just as capable as the others because when people first look at him it's "Sukuna's vessel" or back in Sendai it's "Tiger of West Middle".

It's not "Yuji".

Hell, he'll even be compared to Maki. It's not "Maki's like Yuji". No, it's "Yuji is like Maki". Megumi is the first character to do this. Maki is unique enough that if someone, in this case Yuji, displays a similarity to her, she is the template.

However, for Yuji, while he's unique it's almost like it's not enough to be acknowledged until he has to show them. Like, he has to prove something when he actually doesn't care to do that. Yuji doesn't care to get stronger than the next person, especially at this point. If anything, he seems to be the only one from the very start recognize that none of this is a test of strength when people are dying. Note how he acts during a fight. Every major to majorly minor character has displayed some sort of enjoyment out of a fight or fights to show they're not weak.

Not a single time has Yuji ever even smiled. Look back at all the fights and you will see that he hasn't done such a thing. He fights not because it's a game. He fights because he has to and only that.

And it's not like it gets better for him because he later identifies himself as "a cog". It's like Yuji never really had his own identity.

He's the odd one out.

It's how I think some of the fandom sees him. Without an identity, without recognizable traits. Hell, go on any post that praises Yuji and Yuji alone and there's gonna be a hater to bring up another character.

To some, I feel like Yuji only exists to them to hate on. Only a tool to bring in their praising of other characters to put him down as if that's all he's worthy of. It's a damn shame, too, that people actually feel the need to bring down a character to build their faves. Oh, feel like your fave can't stand on their own and show their greatness?

#kiya answers #kiya answers questions #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuuji #yuuji itadori #itadori yuji #yuji itadori #💖🐯👊#jjk spoilers

113 notes · View notes

heavens-aesthetic-kitchen · 1 month

Text

Why the TF2 Defense Trio deserve more recognition

The people have spoken, I have decided to create an essay disguised as a post on this godforsaken website because it's a free country goddammit! (I would have done it either way lmaooo, I have a lot of shit to say about these maniacs) To start this formal essay glorified very serious shitpost, why should you as a tf2 fan care about these 3 men? They're so "boring" and there's not much going on with them. If ya took a second, let's pause with what was being said. YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND to think such thoughts, we must shake you out of cuckoo land by giving you an in-depth look into these three so that you understand where I'm coming from. Let's start in order:

Demoman:

After being in the fandom since 2019, there's always one character I always thought wasn't given much anything in the fandom at all. Even taking ships out of the equation, there's barely any fics I've that focus on Tavish Finneagan Degroot specifically that I've seen that isn't a compilation fic (I read a lot of x readers, don't judge me). Believe me, I checked ao3. I went through Demoman's tags and I tried very hard to filter a lot of the crossover and relationship tags, yet there's less of Demoman himself, than there's him just existing as a side character of a story. Which is honestly sad, I honestly think Demo is one of the more kinder mercs compared to a lot of the team. This man made friends with the BLU soldier, despite knowing that they were supposed to be killing each other. Sure, it's unclear whether or not Demo did actually go through with it and it's just a ruse, because the voicelines in WAR! don't have a set timeline. But I do think that Demo would have tried to keep his friendship with BLU soldier. He's very chill. I've never actually seen him get violent against his friends and family, despite being a drunkard. I honestly think he's one of the sweetest people in TF2, he takes good care of his mom and haunted sword lmaoooo. Jokes aside, he seems like a genuinely good man and I barely see anything that suggests he's sadistic. He's a chaotic and loud, but not bad. Not bad at all. The fact he can still do his job well, even after drinking so much that his body created a whole distillery, is even more impressive. He is damn good at what he does and works very hard. He's had multiple jobs, even as wee little lad. Despite what people think of him, the fact he's getting paid 5 million dollars a year, is proof he knows what he's doing. He loves his job and couldn't bear the thought of not working. I feel like his backstory isn't talked about enough in the fandom either. When you think about it, it's kinda fucked up that he was put in an orphanage by his biological parents until he was in the right age to be blowing people up. Not only that, his eye socket was haunted by the Bombinomicon so that every halloween a giant eye would manifest, attacking him and his friends. Even Medic couldn't help him and instead resorting to scooping the part of Demo's brain where he remembered so he would stop asking. He most likely has a lot of stories for you, I see him as the type that has a lot to say. His past is the most fleshed out and complete out of all the mercs, which I really appreciate, you can do a lot more with him. Also another thing, during Unhappy Returns, he took the time to reassure Soldier that he wouldn't think he's a civilian. He didn't brush Soldier's worries aside and instead comforted him. I wish I had a lot more to say about Demo because I am baffled that he isn't being gushed about as a potential partner. He has the excitement and like zero baggage. A thing I also wanna point out is that he seems to be insecure of the fact he's a black scottish man with only one eye during Meet The Demoman. I may be reading into things a bit too much, but it makes me wanna be like "NOOOO don't talk about yourself like that, bro. You're so cute UGHHH" Also also he's handsome. Sure looks can be subjective, but I still think Demo has a face I would kiss hehe. He looks great with his beard and his cheeky ass smile. GOD I could gush about him all day, but I have to move on rip.

Heavy:

Honestly, I'm having a hard time just finding the words to describe this amazing man without giving him the respect he deserves. But I'll sure try. Heavy has had a difficult life and I've always admired how strong he was. Not just of his muscles, but he endured one of the toughest situations and still kept moving forward with his life even though it was traumatizing. You see why I'm even having a hard time talking about him? I can't really get down into the weeds, without getting serious for a min. I feel like the fandom doesn't give him much credit for being able to deal with so much. He's the rock for his family after his father disappeared (atp I think he's dead, which is the cherry on top this depressing sundae) and I wouldn't doubt that he would be the same for his team. He's a man of few words, but that makes him all the more intriguing. Just because this man has a lot of brawn does not mean he's dumb at all. Despite how he acts in the battlefield, Heavy is observant and clever. Although, it's implied that Spy being Scout's dad is an open secret between the mercs and Miss Pauling, the fact he figured it out without saying it directly must mean he has a lot more going on. He's also educated, getting a phD in Russian Literature. It's not a STEM program, but he actually got a doctorate and went to college, that's a lot more than half of what the mercs did lmaooo. Also he has a bit of a softie side, not just for his mom and sisters, but also other creatures as well. I respect him so much for avoiding violence against those dogs during the Showdown comic. Not only shows what an absolute sweetheart he is, but also how much he's able to think quickly on his feet. Heavy is very direct and blunt, I don't see him as the type to lie about his feelings. I appreciate that he doesn't feel the need to sugarcoat anything, he'll get the job done and he ain't playing. There's no fluff, he knows what he wants and that's to rev up Sasha and ram through sons of bitches without any worries.

I feel like I wanna point out, his story seems the most unexplored in the fandom, even though it has a lot of potential for ANGST factor. I already broke down how sad it is, but I just feel like it isn't said enough. Can I just say how cuddly he looks?! GAH, I feel like he would give the warmest hugs! The way he smiled in Unhappy Returns when he finds out his family doesn't need to live in fear anymore, just melts my heart! He's so protective over his family and friends! I wish I had a lot more to say about this guy because I just can't stop finding more things about him that go unappreciated. I had to literally edit this part so many times before moving on, he just has those little details you don't notice until you take a second and have that OH MY GOD moment

Engineer:

I was getting so hyped, when it was finally our resident southern nerd's time to shine. GOD I have so much to say about this man. It's been over 5 fucking years and I have never stopped simping for this man since 2019, I think I'm gonna go insane from how much I've been repressing, I go feral when he's around. Anyways enough stalling. I don't ever think a fictional character has ever made me swoon quite like Engineer, I really mean that. I have ask and pleaded to whatever god was listening to give me a man like Engie. To me, he is everything I ever wanted and more.

First, I wanna talk about what makes him attractive to me. His accent. His southern charm, UGH he's killing me with that smooth voice and chivalry! I swear this man could make me faint just from existing. The way he smiles is so warm, his insults are so corny I love them. That five o clock shadow GAHH! I'm getting butterflies all over again. I swear I love all three of the defense bois, but Dell Conagher has my heart wrapped around his gunslinger metal finger. All those personal reasons aside, I've always thought Dell Conagher was a very interesting character in the world of TF2. He might not have much screen time or goofy shenanigans like the other mercs, but that doesn't mean you can ignore him oh no no no. This man is important within the whole story of Mann Co and TF industries, his grandfather being the catalyst of the game's events and the comics going forward. The Conaghers are the SOLE REASON why Team Fortress 2's story exists. I find it strange that the fandom hasn't done much with this fact because you can do a lot with this idea. Engineer knows a lot of shit and would be the biggest threat to Helen, if not for the fact that his family has been helping her for years.

Like his backstory, he's not seen much in the battlefield, but he has a lot more going on behind the scenes. Imagine the possibilities. He is damn intelligent and he knows it. While Dell is very sweet and has a southern charm, this is a facade to hide his God complex and sadistic tendencies. If you think this man is just your boring gentle engineer, you've got a big storm coming. It's heavily implied that he sawed off his own arm so that he could use the gunslinger. This man works on projects with Medic and doesn't question the moral implications of putting a human brain in a pumpkin. Hell, he threatened his own employer, even if he was an old man (Granted, Blutarch dug up his grandpa's grave, so he probably should have gotten something a lot worse than just Dell telling him to fuck off). Engineer is more than the texan egghead sweetie pie, he is a mercenary for a reason and I would argue that he might be as insane, if not more than, the rest of the team. No sane man would willingly work with a bunch of war criminals if he wasn't also crazy. That's the thing I really like about him. I love playing as him in the game because it represents his character very well. He technically serves a supportive role to the team with his buildings, but he is a killer with a lot of tools in his disposal, With the right amount of training, he can absolutely dominate in the battlefield.

I feel like he's one of the people that underestimate and assume that he's an easy target, but he's a lot more than that. He has a lot of layers that makes me want to learn more about him and what he has to offer.

In Conclusion:

These guys are cool. Lmaooo okay I won't just end it there. I genuinely believe that they're not getting the recognition that they deserve, they've got a lot more going for them if you pay attention. Sure they might not always be the loudest or most prominant character in the story, but what they lack in quantity, they make up for in quality TEN FOLD. They don't have to be your favourite, but you should at least give them a chance. You never know, they may surprise you.

Okay so thats enough of that, I couldn't find a divider above this message, so you're getting this grainy ass gif. Honestly, I put way too much effort on this shitpost lmaooo, but I just wanted to get my thoughts out in a more concise manner. If you want to add more stuff about these three that I didn't mention, feel free to do so. Anyways thanks for reading

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 engie #tf2 demo #tf2 mikhail #tf2 defense #i spent way too long on this post than I should have bruh #enjoy the ramblings of a thirsty idiot #defense nation rise up

147 notes · View notes

sushis-wild-imagination · 1 month

Text

UNDER THE STARS

Seungcheol X Reader

Seventeen Masterlist

Genre: Friends, fluff, domestic

note: Im open to requests!

"(Y/N)! Come out fast" You hear seungcheol's voice call out for you.

"Coming!" You yell as you slip on your shoes and head out.

It was a chilly night, you clutched your jacket. Seungcheol was on break, he came back to his roots, back to the quiet place he grew up in with his grandmother for bit. You were classmates, you ran into him a week after he arrived.

He remembered you and rest was history you and him would meet up every night to take a walk under the stars. It was peaceful. It had been almost two months of him being around and you were getting used to him, a friend to hang out with.

The mental state you were in before he arrived, you could have totally used a friend. You were glad you bumped into him that day and you were grateful he was around.

You would talk about absolutely anything under the night sky.

"Do you miss Seoul?" You ask him after walking a distance in silence.

"A little, I got used to the city life I guess, but this trip definitely brought back a lot of memories"

He had told you before, being nostalgic made him feel like a normal quiet boy again, you were glad you could make me feel that way.

"Remember how in elementary school, this boy, 'proposed' to me and suddenly the whole class was a part of a wedding" you almost got married in elementary school. You laugh thinking about the incident.

"Of course I remember, I even fake cried" he laughs recreating

"He's a hot shot lawyer I heard" you update him randomly. "Really?"

You nod, "yeah, maybe I should've just married him then" you joke and chuckle at the thought.

"I'm way better now" you hear Seungcheol say subconsciously.

“Oh yeah international celebrity SEVENTEEN” You tease him further.

He only chuckles at that. “Your fans definitely love you, I’ve seen a lot of messages on weverse, they’re..” you look for the right words, “passionate”

You walk in silence for a bit looking at the snow around you. You can hear the crickets chirping, it was that silent. Seungcheol leads you to a bench on the trail and you both sit down. You clutch your jacket closer as chills roll down your spine. You look up to Seungcheol looking right back at you. His hands immediately travel to your jacket zipper and he zips it up for you. You were startled a little and jumped back.

“I have something to tell you”

Your heart races, nothing good has ever come out of conversations that start like this. Your heart sinks and your lips go dry.

“What is it?” You look over at him, summoning all courage.

“I have to go back to Seoul tomorrow” he says and as if right on cue you get another chill.

“Are you alright?”

There was a weird silence before you could speak up. You nod at him, letting him know you were alright. A sudden sense of sadness flashes over you. You realise you’ll miss him. You realise how different your lives are. Everything happens at once.

“Thats good, you keep telling me how you miss your members, I’m sure they miss you too” you say half heartedly. As much as you wanted him to return to his family. You didn’t want to let go just yet.

“I’ll miss you” you hear him say. This suddenly didn’t feel like a friend talking to a friend. You look up a little shocked.

“What?”

“I’ll miss you. I wish I could take you with me”

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle nervously.

He gets off the bench and extends his hand for you to hold, gesturing you to get off as well.

“Makes me sad to leave you here (y/n). You’ve become a part of my routine, I don’t like that I have to leave you”

“What are you saying, we’re friends we’ll keep in touch” you playfully and nervously hit his arm, not sure what to expect.

He turns around and stop, he was too close to your face causing you to jump back and falling straight on your butt.

“That hurt” you say slowly getting up and dusting off the dirt on your jeans. Seungcheol helps you up and slithers his arms around your waist as soon as you’re on your feet.

“Phew, is this a drama? What are you doing” your hands are now on his chest.

“I like you, lets date (Y/N)”

You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have a crush on Seungcheol, but the only thing that stopped you before was to not come off as someone that is using him for his name so you never thought of him in a romantic way to even get your hopes up. Now that he said it himself, changed everything for you.

"Im scared" you say and he chuckles.

"Of what?"

You couldn't answer.

"Your fame"

He looks serious. it's a real possibility. His fame is intense and dealing with all the issues that come with it, the distance, the busy schedules it was too much for someone ordinary as you.

"But..." you start, taking a deep breath.

Seungcheol looks expectant.

"I like you"

A smile creeps up his face.

"Then I'll figure out the rest," he puts the strand on your face behind your ear.

"But..."

"How about we just focus on liking each other" he says and that reassures you, cupping your cheek.

That makes you go soft. He's right. There's no point over thinking this. You like each other, that's all that should matter.

"Okay I trust you" you get on your toes and kiss his cheek, it felt cold.

His face turned red while you pull away.

"Good"

#seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #scoups #idol!reader #idol x reader #seventeen #kpop #Scoups x y/n #scoups x you #seungcheol x reader #svt fics #svt fluff #svt fanfic

111 notes · View notes

harryssweatcreaturee · 8 months

Text

Petals and Promises

you guyssssss, i'm bacckkkkk (((':

a/n: here's something a little sweet and heart warming with soft harry being the sweet little baby he is, i hope this fluff blurb makes you happy. love you guys <3

wc: 1695

warnings: mentions of deceased parent

Days like this were Harry’s favorite.

The smell of the fresh rain drizzling down to water the trees, humidity that anyone else might complain about but Harry loved. Sure, it meant sadness for most people but for Harry, it meant growth and serenity. Each raindrop seemed to cleanse the very atmosphere, purifying it from worries and accumulated dust, washing away the problems from moments before the nature’s symphony. The air that was once stifling and heavy, now felt light, crisp, and cool.

He walked from the parking lot to head towards his flower shop. Sidewalk sprinkled with some people like him – under their umbrellas and coats coddling them away from the slight chill the rain invited.

“Excuse me!”

Harry kept walking, admittedly a bit distracted with the sound of the pitter patter from the rain hitting the pavement, not realizing the woman behind him was trying to call his attention.

“Sir! Excuse me!”

This time, Harry turned his head, finding a young woman with her hands wrapped around her body and drenched pointing to his umbrella.

“Do you mind? Just until I reach the flower shop. I parked too far and forgot my umbrella. Sorry just – it’s cold. Wet, very wet.” She rambled on, an apologetic smile on her face as if she was burdening Harry for wanting momentary shelter from the curtains of rain.

Harry smiled as he moved closer to her, “Don’t mind at all. M’actually headed to the flower shop too. What are you looking for? We have new shipments today and I ordered some new flowers that are in season.”

Harry’s always been so friendly and kind, not leaning into finding any harm in anyone’s intention of speaking to him or approaching him. Maybe it was a bit much for some people but hey, sharing his umbrella with a person and how could he not make conversation when they’re just inches away?

(Y/N) on the other hand, hated the rain. It meant sadness. It meant another day where the skies cried with her over how much she missed her mum. Her best friend. Her confidant. The world seemed to be just as sad as her from how often the skies cried with her – dreadful and muddy as it made every step a battle against the sucking muck.

It didn’t help that she left her umbrella today and she needed those flowers before she went to go visit her mum. But she wouldn’t miss it for the world. No matter the shine, the rain, the wind. She’d sit on that grave as the rain fell in a relentless downpour if she had to.

To make it worse, she wanted to try this new flower shop and the parking she found felt like it was miles and miles away from her car as the rain trickled down her dry body and making her a proper soaked towel.

God bless the man that allowed her to hide away from the rain until they reached the shop. He seemed so kind and genuine, giving her a smile that was so graceful – a delicate curve that carried with it elegance and joy. It was sweet and it made (Y/N) feel warm inside unlike the rain’s cold drips that made her body shiver.

“I usually get her a bouquet of sulfur and pink cosmos, if you have any.”

She stayed by the door, cautiously looking around the shop riddled in concentric shelves holding beautiful flowers and arrangements. It smelled so nice, soft yet alive. (Y/N) didn’t want to wet the wood floor any more than she already had, keeping her body at a close distance to the exit door.

Harry noticed and immediately walked over to her with a coat he usually left under the register, handing it to her with a soft smile, “Don’t worry about that. Walk around and look as you please. I’ll mop up after. M’Harry, by the way. Let me know if you need anything.”

She wasn’t sure if he even responded to her as to what flowers she wanted but he seemed busy at work with the yellow and pink puffs she asked for, working on a bouquet behind the counter.

(Y/N) could tell he took care of his flowers. Not a single wilted petal or a dead flower. They looked beautiful and full of life, ready to illuminate any room or bring a smile to anyone’s face. She hoped it did the same to her mum in heaven every time she showed up with her favorite flowers.

“May I ask who these are for? These are special flowers – beautiful and harmonious. Special person you’re getting them for.”

A smile perked the commissure of her lips, not realizing that her mother’s favorite flowers meant something so sweet and so in sync with what their relationship was – still is and forever will be.

(Y/N) walked closer to the counter, eyes now focused on his hand cutting the stems at an angle before perfectly arranging them at a height where they bloomed so generously.

“They’re for my mum. I visit her every Sunday with her favorite flowers, even if the ones from the week before are still perfect and blossoming.”

He had long, slender fingers. A cross tattoo etched on the back of his palm, a pastel yellow chipping away from his fingernails. It matched him, she thought. Tender and refreshing like the smile he gave her when he allowed her to hide away under his umbrella.

Harry didn’t need more explanation to understand what the flowers were for. And though his mum was alive and well, thank God, it resonated deep in him because cosmos happened to be his mum’s favorite flower too.

“Cosmos are my mum’s favorite too.”

A soothing silence fell over them as he finished up the bouquet, wrapping the stems with a rubber band, then the brown kraft paper, then the cellophane.

“This one’s on the house today. I hope you have a good visit with your mum and take my umbrella. The weather won’t get any better until later in the evening.”

His generosity made (Y/N)’s eyes water. He didn’t know her, didn’t know her name, yet his kindness wrapped her up in the warmest, tightest hug of sweetness that squeezed tears out of her. There was sincerity in his kindness that was unmistakable, a genuine desire to help others that radiated from him, and anyone can see that.

“Thank you.” She croaked out, holding in a sob that she thought would come later when she sat atop her mother’s grave but instead, this sweet stranger was nearly pulling it out of her.

Harry couldn’t seem to get the woman out of his head days after. He could remember seeing her eyes welled up in unshed tears, her lips trembling a sad testament to the emotions churning behind the surface. Harry just wanted to hold her, feeling compelled to promise her that everything will be okay and that one day things will get better.

He hoped she’d come by again this Sunday, maybe talk to her some more and try to make her smile again in any way he could. But luckily, he didn’t have to wait until Sunday.

The last thing he expected was for her to show up in his shop again on this Thursday afternoon, a basket of muffins and his umbrella filling her hands. She looked happier today, sporting that same apologetic smile as she nearly struggled with the door as she stumbled in, a silly little giggle leaving her lips as she tripped on the way to the counter towards Harry.

“This is my proper thank you for your kindness – and your umbrella. You don’t know me, don’t know my name, if I’m a good person, or a bad person. Yet you unhesitatingly treated me with such generosity and-and some sort of empathy that just nearly cured my sadness,” she giggled with a soft sigh following, scooting the basket of muffins closer to him.

“I don’t need to know a person for me to be kind. And besides, I knew in the bottom of my heart that you needed it and it was no problem for me to give you what my heart is full of. Thank you for the muffins, petal.”

(Y/N) huffed out a small laugh, softly shaking her head in disbelief that someone so perfect could exist. Someone so soft and emotionally intelligent, so beautiful and cautious. “You’re unbelievable, y’know that? I’ve never met someone so polite from the second I’ve met them and really, it warms my heart more than I can say. I –“ It was like the woman had a drank a truth serum before she came to see him.

“I left here on Sunday even seeing the rain in a whole different way. I told my mum about you – about the stranger that gave me his umbrella and gifted me flowers because I looked like a sad, wet mess. And I just knew you didn’t do all that out of pity. It means a lot to me.”

Harry could only smile at her. She was so cute, honestly rambling off again about whatever she felt with no filter on her mouth. It was sweet and it made Harry feel good that his kindness meant so much to her. It reminded Harry of the exact reason why he was the way he was.

“Well, I do hope you come by here often and I promise I’ll always be just as kind and sweet, petal.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warming up, her heart racing at that nickname again, finding it even a little funny given that he sold flowers. She wanted a different reason to come by the flower shop, perhaps to see him more often than just Sundays where she’d usually be a mess and crying again.

Before (Y/N) could respond, Harry disappeared behind the small hallway that led to the back, then returning with a beautiful chocolate cherry sunflower, Harry handing it to her with a hopeful smile.

“Every petal of this flowers will leave with a promise of your return. Come see me again, petal. I’ll be happily waiting to see you.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles fan fics #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harrystyles #harry styles x yn #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harrystyles fic #harrystyles fanfic #hslot #harrys house #harry styles fic

243 notes · View notes

kimbap-r0ll · 1 year

Note

Hi!! May I req a fic where the boys accidently say something that upsets the gn!reader causing them to cry(like how they arent home now or something about them failing,etc), how would Malleus,Riddle, Vil and Azul react?

Hi, thank you for the ask! Oof this one's gonna be a bit of an angst. Short fics for these characters too, hope you like them!

Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Azul x reader: Let the Tears Fall

Malleus

He didn't mean to cause you any harm, that was the last thing he wanted to do while you were with him. He mentioned briefly that he was happy you were with him, in Twisted Wonderland of course, saying that he doesn't "mind if you were stuck here." He meant it in the most literal sense, that he would love for you to stay with him forever, never to return back to your world because he loves you so much. But that translated into possessiveness, something you didn't want in your relationship. Malleus laughed a little when he saw your pale face, he asked what was wrong, and you didn't say anything. Instead, you sat there, looking down at your knees as the winds caused the leaves to rustle in the forest. "Did I upset you?" Malleus asked, trying to reach for you but you just shook your head. You smiled, trying to hold the tears in, looking off into the distance as if to focus on something far away. "No...nothing I just...miss my world a bit...this place sort of reminds me of it," you said. A tear slid from your eye, and you were quick to wipe it off before he saw but the fae didn't miss it. He felt a chill run down his spine, he didn't think he could ever be a source of sadness to you. He never wanted to be such a thing, not when you always made him feel warm and loved. "Y/n, I'm...I'm sorry I spoke out of line," he said, wanting to take back his words. You tried to reassure him that you were fine, but your eyes still seemed hurt. Malleus would have a hard time forgetting that.

Riddle

"Once again, rose I told you it's not written in this way," he sounded pissed. Riddle was never patient with anyone, but when it came to you it seemed like he was a bit better at holding his temper. That was until today rolled by, a week before your exams and you were studying with him. You flinched as he slammed his notebook down and walked over to a chalkboard to demonstrate what he meant. You wrote down exactly what he wrote, listened to his words, but his tone kept making your heart race not in a good way. It was a panicked rhythm, something like you knew you were in trouble. This was your boyfriend for Great Seven's sake, what was going on? Riddle shouted your name again when you didn't answer him as you were lost in your thoughts. That was the last straw, you mumbled out the answer, knowing it was incorrect but not wanting to test his patience anymore. "L-look, I don't think I can do this anymore," you whimpered, and that made Riddle stop. His eyes widened, he realized what he just did. He yelled, yelled at you out of all people. He was acting like his mother, the person whom he despised so much yet ended up becoming a reflection of in this moment. "Y/n, I didn't mean to shout like that, I'm so sorry," his voice softened, he quickly went to you to take you in his arms. But you were limp, your eyes glistened with tears. While no words left your mouth, the small drops that fell onto your notebook was enough for him to understand the horrible mistake he had done.

Vil

A perfectionist at heart, he didn't let anyone escape his scrutiny. Even you, whom he always praised as being perfect in heart and body. He didn't care if you didn't have his exact look, as long as you were confident in your fashion choices he loved it. But this time, he wasn't feeling too much like himself, he had seen too many manager texts in a day, a lot of stressful classes, and now you were doing everything but taking care of yourself. You were up late studying for a test, causing not only physical health problems but also mental health problems. He wanted to tell you kindly to stop but he didn't have the energy. Grabbing your books, he snapped at you. "Get to bed, what are you trying to do sabotage yourself? I thought we went over this last week, how quickly do you dispose of my advice?" What he didn't realize was that you weren't doing that well either. You were sick, you were stressed, you were getting over a lot of hardships about being literally teleported away from home. This was the last thing you wanted to go through, and all you could do at that moment was..."Y/n? Are you crying?" Vil reached his hand to your face, lifting it up so he could see you. You tried to look away, but the tears slid down your cheeks and you made a small whimper. "I'm sorry, I don't want to cause trouble but...it's been a hard week," you try to explain. You think Vil would scold you, but instead, he looks at you with wide eyes, almost a look of fear. "No, I should be the one to apologize, it was rude of me to act this way," he wrapped his arms around you. He let you cry on his shoulder, tell him everything you wanted to tell him. Vil wouldn't let you bundle up your emotions anymore.

Azul

Azul didn't have anything against you, but he was quick to make grudges. He could cling onto random actions or phrases people said to use against them when he needed. It just so happened to be one of those cases. You were already in a tense environment with him. He didn't speak to you for a few days, and you were busy dealing with homesickness along with all of Ramshackle's issues. He casually had to bring up how you weren't helping him at the lounge, nor were you checking up on him as you usually did. What a selfish dorm leader, but you didn't have the energy to fight back. "Look, I'm just saying that as long as you're here, and Crowley remains as the headmaster, you won't be going home. Might as well toss that out the window," he said as he walked back into his office, leaving you in the lounge to clean the bar by yourself. This was the last straw for you, the one thing, the one hope you had was home and he had to jab at it. You tried to calm yourself down, but the tears just started. Soon, you were wiping the glassware while letting the tears fall all over the counter. Azul wouldn't have heard you because he usually listens to music as he's in his study, but this time he left the door open to see what you would do. Hearing slight whimpers and sniffles caused him to jump out the door, a worried and panicked look on his face. There was no way he just said something that hurt you, no he was better than those kinds of people. He went through hurtful words, he shouldn't be repeating that! "Darling, is something wrong? Was it something I said?" he asked, carefully approaching you. "Ah, it's nothing," you shook your head, trying to hide it but he wrapped his arms around you. "No, no it's absolutely something I should know. It was what I said wasn't it?" this caused you to cry harder. He started to feel tears himself. As he told you how sorry he was, he wiped your tears away and told himself he would never throw words at you.

597 notes · View notes

maryangelex · 7 months

Text

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Captain John Price x f!Reader

Summary: The doors have opened for a new dynamic between you and Price, one you're unfamiliar with but welcome with open arms, and it surprisingly only escalates when he's deployed

Warnings/Tags: NSFW, phone sex, masturbation, sexting, lingerie, panty kink.

A/N: comment if you'd send John a saucy pic!!!

Song for this one is The First Taste by Fiona Apple.

Ever since that morning at the cafe, John has become even more of a staple in your mind, occupying every waking thought and becoming the plot of every dream you've had.

The day after your little moment together, it had been hard to look at the man in the eyes without your mind going blank, cheeks a feverish red, and heart racing a million miles beats minute. And you could definitely tell he enjoyed to see you flustered by him just being in your proximity; as if he could see how your mind recalled every second of that moment, as if he could see the wetness of your panties when you thought about it.

And you wouldn't dare tell your cousin. Even though you told her everything in your life, that you would take to your grave.

For the past couple of days since then, John has continued his daily routine of coming to see you and spending at least an hour enjoying his coffee and your company. He's become yet another regular whose order you knew by heart. Sitting with him or even so much as taking his order and having his presence fill the cafe has become what you look forward to the most.

Today he entered the cafe like always, picking a seat at the counter to chat with you. His closeness brought the familiar, pungent smell of his masculine cologne, a scent that flooded your nose and felt like a warm hug. You smiled at him brightly and greeted him like you did every morning, which he did too. The way he eyed you always gave you goosebumps and a chill down your spine, with a pleasant flutter in your stomach.

You poured him his coffee and breakfast pastry, which he insisted you surprise him with a new one each time.

"You look lovely today, love," he gave you that cheeky smirk of his, with the fake innocence behind those kyanite eyes.

You scoffed, feigning humility, "You say that every day, John."

"And I mean it every day," he chuckled, taking his coffee with a pleased hum.

"What do you have planned for today?" you asked, your elbows propped on the counter. You thanked the fact that it was a light morning to be able to entertain John and that your cousin had been the greatest wingwoman you could ever ask for by taking care of the store whenever John came in.

"Same as always, talkin' to the pretty girl at the cafe, runnin' errands," he sighed, "But I'm the bearer of bad news today, actually."

You quirked a brow, "How so?"

"I've gotta go back to work, love," he said with an earnest sadness in his tone, giving you an achy look. And your heart sank for a moment, a tightness in your throat that came up all of a sudden.

"I'm actually leaving tomorrow," he cleared his throat, his voice apologetic, as if he was already soothing you and apologizing for the fact that he had so evidently made you woeful, made you miss him already.

All you could think about was the worry that this was him calling it quits, to whatever it is you two even had going on, if there was anything going on, to begin with. Maybe you had taken things a bit too seriously with John, maybe all he wanted was some company before he was off.

You cleared your throat, pushing down any sign that you were so visibly heartbroken. "I'll be wishing you all the best while you're away, John," your smile was forced as you were about to turn to the counter behind you, but John's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I wanted to tell you because..." he started before noticing the loudness of his voice, "I was wondering if even while I'm gone, I'll still have you to come back to." The man's request was like Cupid's arrow through your chest.

"I'll be gone for a couple of weeks, but I'd like to come back n' still have a pretty barista to pour me my mornin' coffee," the cheeky bastard gave you a hopeful smile, which you returned and huffed a laugh.

"Of course, I'll be here waitin'," you said sincerely. You meant it, you really did. You would be waiting for him patiently and eager for his return. Now you felt stupid for being so insecure and anxious about John's intention; and you made a mental note to go easier on him, to trust him that he was an honest man with a kind heart that had a spot for you, because thus far he'd shown you nothing but that.

" 'M glad to hear that, dove. Does that dinner offer still stand for when I come back?"

"My door's open," you said, biting your lip to still your racing heart.

John spent the rest of the morning with you, chatting you up like he always did. He told you about what his deployment tends to be like, how sometimes all they have him do is linger around their temporary base and go through intel and reports and endless paperwork, and how it's up to the big guys to say what they do next.

You still didn't know the details of what he really did, he persisted that it was for your own safety, that he couldn't tell you even if he wanted to, but that truthfully he'd prefer to keep that side of him away from you because you were too good for those sorts of stories.

But you saw he made the effort to provide you at least a bit of clarity on his line of work, sparing you the gory details and instead giving you some peace of mind about what he did, and a small glance into that part of his identity at the same time.

By mid-afternoon, he was still there, probably the longest he'd been there with you. The shop remained fairly slow when it came to customers and orders, given that it was a random Wednesday when most people would be at work and only bothered to come to grab a small bite and a quick espresso on their break.

John showed the utmost patience when you became mildly busy though, enjoying the sight of you at work and the simplicity of just being with you, you felt it in the tenderness of his gaze. You asked him about the errands he said he needed to run, but he shook his head with a dismissive shrug and told you to "never mind that," that it wasn't as important as spending his last day home with you.

The man couldn't be any cheesier, and you loved every bit of it.

He managed to prolong his stay until the last minute, you had lightly scolded him that he needed to rest as much as possible before heading into whatever shitty conditions he'd be in for the next couple of weeks.

"I'd be lyin' if I said you scoldin' me wasn't makin' me like you more," said the cheeky bastard as he put his arms through his jacket.

"I'd make one hell of a naggin' wife, huh?" you joked, and if your eyes weren't deceiving you, you caught a glimpse of a light heat dusting John's smiling cheeks.

"A man would be so lucky." His words made your stomach flutter; his flirting never failed to make you feel some sort of indescribable way. The best way you could put it was that it made you feel giddy and wanted.

You escorted him outside, standing by the entrance of the shop in a spot that was out of sight from those inside, allowing for a bit of privacy with John. He stood in front of you, cozily close as always, and with a hand coming up to your hair to twirl a strand around his index finger. You had noted by now how much he enjoyed your hair, or touching you in any sort of way in general.

"So I'll see you in a few weeks, yeah?" there was hope in your tone, minding the dreadful thought that he might not come back.

"Promise," he said huskily, an affirmative tone that read your mind, "Don't worry your pretty little head 'bout me, I'll be back before y'know it, dove."

You took a stead forward and cupped his face gently, then stood on the tips of your toes to reach his tender lips. He welcomed your kiss, of course, declining his head to meet you, one hand on your waist and the other migrating to the nape of your neck.

You kissed him tenderly, but more confidently than you ever had before, with a newfound certainty, as if knowing that it was okay for you to kiss him first without hesitation. John kissed you back with fervency, his rosy lips catching yours and reluctant to let go.

When you two pulled away he held you tightly against him in an embrace before he left. It pained you to say goodbye, this man that you had known for such little time had your heart in a tight lock already.

It had been a week since John had left on deployment. You did not expect to be this worried in your life over someone. You had never had a long-distance relationship (if you could even call it that as being what you and John had). You didn't want to admit to yourself how much you missed him, or how much you thought about him, or how you dreaded something happening to him.

He couldn't have been more reassuring though, hardly ever failing to text you his status as best he could. He had let you know before leaving that he'd become less consistent at texting you, but that he'd go out of his way just to send you at least one message a day.

Every notification from him put your racing thoughts at ease, no matter how simple it was. Texts telling you about how work was going, in a way that made it sound like he was on a corporate business trip or as if he was a lorry driver traveling from one end of the country to another. Sometimes his texts would be about how he missed you, how the coffee in the base was sewage water and it was making him livid and exhausted, followed by the zombie emoji he had recently added to his regular repository.

A lot of the late-night and early-morning texts were tooth-achingly sweet, though; you cherished those the most, reciprocating the messages with sincerity.

Tonight he told you he had managed to get a tent to himself while two of his boys snoozed in another one with the third one on watch for the night. He told you he was hoping to get some restful sleep for once, given that he wouldn't have to hear someone else's snoring, but said it was just impossible to sleep with the thought of you banging in his head.

You thought he had you wrapped around his finger, but you didn't mind in the slightest. Instead, you decided to be bold and use that to your advantage. You felt naughty doing so but that was the best part of it. The heat that had been brewing in your core had started to be bothersome ever since John had given you a first taste of what he offered you.

So you made your way to your dresser, digging in the drawer where you kept your panties and finding a set you hadn't worn in god knows how long. It was like dusting off an old book. You only hoped it fit you still.

And it did, to your surprise even better than the one time you had worn it since you first bought it. The little fuchsia pink thong was snug on the fat around your hips, accentuating the plump curvature of your ass, and the lace balconette bra teased your nipples through the thin transparent fabric.

Your heart beat fast and you felt the dampness between your legs at both the sight of you in your bold garments and at the thought of sending John a picture. You dwelled on it for a moment, contemplating whether or not you should send it. Maybe it was unsafe to do so, maybe he'd get caught.

But you decided to give in to your impulses. You snapped a picture in a pose that showed your front, your curves popping in the revealing outfit, your tits pert, and showing the evidence of your arousal. Only your body and hair were visible in the frame, choosing to hide your scarlet red face and smile.

You waited a few moments, eyeing the photo closely before deciding "Fuck it" and hitting 'send'.

Your breath hitched, almost in disbelief that you managed to do that. You were quite proud of yourself, honestly. As you waited expectantly you bit the tip of your thumb in anticipation, staring at the chat on your screen.

But all you could see was the empty chat beside your picture. Then, John's chat bubbles finally popped up, only to disappear after a few seconds. They popped up and disappeared twice more after that, but no message was sent in response.

Your face fell, your throat running dry when you cursed at yourself. Did you freak him out? Was it bad timing?

You jumped with a shocked yelp when you heard the sound of your phone vibrating. You were getting a call from John now. You cursed at yourself once again, clearing your throat and bracing yourself to apologize profusely before you picked up.

"Hey, John I--" you stuttered before he interrupted you with what sounded like a breathy groan from his end.

"What're you doin' sendin' me pictures like that, naughty girl?" his voice was low and almost a purr through the phone.

You felt like you had gone into cardiac arrest at the sound of his voice. He sounded aroused, and it couldn't be more noticeable. You bit your lip suppressing the grin that tugged at your cheeks, laying back on your bed as your skin burned hot with the pleasure that rose within you.

You couldn't be more pleased with yourself.

"Thought you might enjoy that," you giggled.

John hummed contently, "Oh, I'm enjoyin' it alright...you've no idea how much." You heard a deep thigh coming from him.

"I think I have an idea," your hand trailed down your body, fingers brushing over the skin exposed skin of your breasts.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Mhm," you said coyly, your fingers traveling to the thin fabric covering your nipples, ghosting over the perked buds. "Would be lyin' if I said I didn't feel the same way."

"Fuckin' hell, princess," he growled, "N' I thought you were an innocent little thing."

You chuckled, your hand now toying with the hem of your panties. The sound of wetness came through the other end of the call, making the fire between your legs burn hotter. A moan brewed in your throat when your hand finally slipped into your panties, striking your index and middle finger between your folds and collecting the slick that pooled there.

"You toyin' with my pretty pussy, love?"

You nodded to yourself and answered with another "Mhm," letting a needy sound out as your fingerpads pressed against your achy clit.

You heard John's breath become ragged, the squelching sound becoming more rhythmic. Your fingers tried to match his pace as you rubbed tight circles on your clit, your pussy becoming impossibly wetter at the thought and sound of John jerking off on the phone.

"Fuckin' miss you, dove...miss the sweet taste of your pussy. Remember those cute panties I took from ya? Got 'em here, fuckin' my fist with 'em...thinkin' o' you."

You let out a whimper, recalling John fervently devouring you and the perverted act of him saving your underwear; now knowing their purpose made your mind hazy and your clit quiver. It felt like ages now, and your ache for him had been growing stronger since then.

"Want you, John," you babbled, quickening your pace, your hips wiggling and rolling to grind yourself on your fingers.

"Tell me what you want from me, sweet girl," he purred.

"Want your mouth," you breathed, your hand leaving the phone as you held it at the crook of your neck and shoulder, migrating to your pleading cunt to dip your fingers into your entrance. You let out another audible moan as you worked your fingers on your clit and filled yourself with the two others, "Want your cock, John."

You heard the man on the other line practically moan as he cursed at your words, "My sweet girl wants my cock, huh? You're gonna make me cum if y'keep talkin' like that." You heard him panting, the sound of him stroking his slicked cock hitting your ears, making you pump your fingers harder and faster.

"Tell me how you're fuckin' yourself, love," he commanded, and you obeyed him. You told him how you were fucking yourself with your fingers and how they weren't enough, how your clit would only be satiated by his mouth now.

"Oh my needy girl, 'm gonna fuck you good when I get back home to you." he cooed, a string of curses and groans falling from his lips. "Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?"

You moaned in response, only being able to manage a desperate "Uhuh," as you were reaching the precipice of your orgasm. John was nearing his too, you could hear it as he babbled on about needing you, about how he was gonna fuck you like you deserved when he got back home, about how he was gonna claim your pussy with his cock.

You announced your emerging climax with a cry and a choked moan, your body convulsing and your pussy clenching around your own fingers. The desperate chants of John's name were what made him cum, the way you cried out for him breathlessly and mindlessly, your moans almost sounding like sobs.

You heard him let out a muffled groan signaling his orgasm as if he had bitten down on something to keep quiet as he came.

All that was heard in the call now were both of you's panting breaths, until John let out a tired chuckle and you giggled in response, feeling flustered by your exchange. You lay on your silky sheets with a mess between your legs as you exhaled contently.

"I should send you pictures more often," you quipped.

"I'd love it if you did," John said, "And I'll keep my end of the bargain."

You hummed a laugh, repeating "I'd love it if you did," as your response.

#cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #fanfic #john price #john price cod #john price call of duty #captain john price #john soap mactavish #cod fanfic #john price smut #john price x reader #john price x y/n

226 notes · View notes

rogueshadow1124 · 21 days

Text

DEADLY SILENT

[BATFAMILY IMAGINE SERIES]

Platonic¡Jason Todd x Batsis!Reader, slight platonic¡Dick Grayson x Batsis!Reader

Summary: Over a year ago to this day Jason died, his younger sister found him at the scene but was too late to be able to stop his death- she ended up blaming herself and vowed to visit his grave...

Word count: roughly 1805

Warning: mature language, mentions weapons/some violence.

The youngest Wayne, strolled through the graveyard that was set a light by the neutral tones that seeped out of the lampposts nearby. Y/N made this a weekly occurrence, she couldnt seem to push away the thought of her older brother not being here anymore, she couldnt come to terms with the fact that he was indeed gone.

She came to a stop at the grave she visited everytime she had a chance to. Jason Todd, a loving brother and son forever in our hearts and never to be forgotten, 1990-2012. Y/N had always admired her older brothers but more so Jason as they were the closest and had a similar persona, when she found out he died a year ago to this day she completely broke and nobody knew for sure if she could be fixed.

"Its been a year Jay, a whole goddamn fucking year." The girl dropped to her knees, reaching towards the ga stone to set a hand upon it. "I'm hurting Jaybird, everything hurts so much and I dont know how to stop the pain. I dont even think its curable, I'm broken, I've become a unrecognizable person." Her head dropped, tears seeped out of her eyes and dripped down the curve of her cheek, trailing down her neck. "Dick said I needed to speak to someone, maybe a therapist but I refused. Bruce- he's given up. Alfred's trying to keep us together but it's not working. We need you- I need you."

A buzzing echoed through the air as her phone started to vibrate in her pocket, she let out a heavy breath while reaching down to grasp it and see that Dick was calling. Her thumb swiped across the screen to accept the call before pulling it up to her ear.

"Y/N/N where are you?" His voice rumbled through the other end of the device, he sounded panicked yet calm at the same time.

"Dont worry Dick I'm not gonna do anything stupid okay I'm just doing a usual weekly round, I need space, I need you all to stop treating like I'm still a child and let me mourn in my own damn way. I can handle myself, maybe it doesnt seem like it but I'm still here arent I?" She let out a sob at the end, her hands shaking as she let out a laboured breath this time, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm herself.

"Y/N can you come back home, theres something really important we need to discuss..."

"What part of 'I need to be alone' dont you understand Richard?" She heard her brother sigh on before the sound of a few things being knocked over and then Bruce scolding someone in a hushed tone. "I'm going now."

"No, wait. Y/N!" She ended the call, placing her phone back in her pocket. Her head tilted back up to look at the grave infront of her, her thoughts ran wild in her head as she tried to figure what she could possibly say next. In reality she was speaking to nobody, there was nothing but silence but she felt a huge amount of relief lift from her when she 'spoke' to Jason.

Her eyes then narrowed in frustration, hands coming up to tug at her hair while more tears blurred her vision and suffocated the soft surface of her face. Small, audiable cries passed her lips in distress and sadness, her body shaking from her crying and the slight chill of the cool midnight air that flew within the atmosphere.

Y/N hated the feeling of loneliness. With Jason being gone that's exactly how she felt, sure she had her other brother but Jason was the one she confided in, he was her protector. He reassured her, he was her shoulder to cry on, he was her rock and without her rock she had nothing to go back to, to lean on when she needed comfort-

She pushed herself up to stand on her feet, looking down at the gravestone before spinning on her heel and speeding down the narrow paths. Her hands came up to pull the hood of her jacket over her head, trailing down to slip into her pockets that were the only source of heat to radiate through her hands to stop them from becoming numb on this cold night.

The cars whizzed passed on the Gotham roads, horns blaring and tires screeching as they sped by.

Y/N only ever came out at night, it was a time where she could set free from her mind- not fully but it was relieving while it lasted. She hated the silence that surrounded her daily, though she all but loved it at the same time. When it was silent she would drown in her own thoughts however if someone broke the silence they would ask the same questions and suggest what could help her.

A hand shout out from her left, hauling her into an alleyway. She yelped at the sudden force, her back cracked slightly when she was slammed into the brick wall behind her making a groan slip from her lips. Her deep blue orbs, that now seemed to be duller than ever peered up at the attacker- dressed in fully back and had a light grey mask covering their face.

"Y/N Wayne." Came a male voice, sounding quite sinister.

"Who's asking." She replied dryly, leaning back into the wall as the male tightens his grip on her shoulders.

"My boss. Your father seems to have upset him and he doesnt take things like that lightly sweetheart." The man pulled a gun from his back pocket, bringing it up to hover over her face, the cool metal sliding it up to the bridge of her nose to rest against her forehead.

"Do it. Kill me." Her words never faltered which surprised the man, her hand raised to grasp the gun and pull it further towards her head, eyes crossing as she peered up at the gun.

"Oh, who would have thought. The Y/N Wayne begging for death." The man teased, tilting his head to the side as dark eyes pierced her own through the holes in the mask.

"I've got nothing left to loose. I'm miserable. Do it, just pull the trigger. Do it!" She pushed forwards as the mans finger went to pull at the trigger, eyes screwing shut as a rush of anticipation ran through her veins as she waited for the quick way out of life. It never came.

Her eyes peeled open to see another person, a metallic looking red helmet hid his whole head, a brown leather jacket along with a black shirt and dark, tight fitted jeans and a pair of matted jet black combat boots. The new comer held the attacker up by his throat as he rithed under his grip, hands clutching onto the gloved hands that wrapped around his neck.

"You're so dead." The red masked vigilante grumbled out in anger, his hands tightened around the other males neck making breathing a hard task to do before the attacker slowly grew limp in his arms and was dropped to the ground.

"Who the hell are you?!" The girl whispered shouted, looking him up and down. Her eyes trailed to the man on the floor who lay unconscious- maybe, possibly dead. She fell back against the wall, hands by her side as she threw her head back and sighed.

"What do you think you were doing Y/N?!"

"How the fuck do you know my name?" She stood back to her full height eyeing the vigilante with a puffy red eyes from when she had been crying not so long ago. She watched as a gloved hand moved up and hooked under the metal helmet, tugging at it so it revealed a face. A very familiar one at that. "No. Please. Oh- no."

"Y/N/N I know this seems weird right now okay, let me explain." Jason spoke, holding his hands out to her as she shook her head repeatedly and whispered a bunch of 'No's' and 'this isn't real'.

"Your dead, yo-your supposed to be dead. I-I saw your body, I didnt make it in time." She sobbed out loudly, looking directly at the 'replica' of her older brother. Her brows furrowed and her lip wobbled as she continued to cry uncontrollably. "A year ago today, we found you dead!"

"I-I was resurrected months ago Y/N, I'm here. I'm real. I promise." Jason stepped forwards slowly, pulling the broken girl into his embrace. The sound of a motorcycle revving sounded in the background making the no longer dead Jason look over his shoulder to see Dick in his nightwing costume.

"Did you find her, please tell me you found her." Dicks voice echoed within the alley, breathing out a breath of relief when jason moved his form to reveal the crying girl. "Oh thank god."

A slap suddenly came to fill the secondary of silence along with a Yelp. One of Jason's hands flung up to cup his burning cheek while his eyes met with Y/N's fiery gaze, her hands set on her hips as she continued to sniffle, tears still venturing down her cheeks.

"Y-your telling me you've been alive for months?!"

"W-well yeah, I-" he tried to respond but was near to immediately cut off by his younger sister raising her hand and waving it around.

"I-I'm miserable. Broken even, for a whole fucking year I was and your telling me you have been alive for a few months. I saw your body Jason, I was the first to find you and I completely broke when I knew I could have done something to prevent your 'death'." Her voice became softer as she relived the memory, images flashed through her mind as she recalled what she had seen when she found him dead.

"Y/N I've told you millions of times it wasnt your fault. Nobody could have stopped it from happening." Dick stepped to stand beside Jason so both of them were infront of her, a small smile etched onto his lips when she rammed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest.

"But what if I could have prevented it Dick?"

"Theres no way you could have sweetheart." Jason stated, running a hand through her messy locks that splayed upon her head wildly.

"I love you Jaybird, so much. I missed you." She turned around and attatched herself to Jason, jumped in his arms which made him laugh as he caught her and she wrapped around him like a koala bear.

"I missed you too, little bird."

#batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #batfamily x batsis #gotham #mature language #red hood #nightwing #batfamily x reader #x reader

59 notes · View notes