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oceanxveiined · 8 months

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Genshin Verse Side Muses:

*Mentions of abuse, dysfunctional families, manipulation, torture, violence, experimentation, ableism, transphobia, and death, not necessarily all present/to various extents depending on each bio, ahead.

1) Chang Da’Lun (500+/appears 23): Half-Adeptus, born some time before the Cataclysm. He can shift into a smaller birdlike form at will, though it does take a bit out of him to switch back. It doesn’t stop him from shifting into it on his own or a friend's whim though.

His father was a Yaksha named Wuye, alias Caligo, who had inevitably become consumed by his karmic debt and became more akin to a malevolent demon. Though admittedly, the adeptus had already possessed quite the cruel streak, even long before he’d fallen. Being driven mad by the karmic debt meant his slaughters turned to fellow adepti and humans alike, which had also grown to be far more frequent and brutal. Each consumed opponent led his power to grow as he’d absorb their vitality and any abilities they possessed.

By contrast Da’lun’s mother, Anhe, had been fully human, having been with a group of treasure hunters who’d taken her from her family in ransom when they’d strayed too close to the maddened Yaksha’s territory. When they had realized and tried to sneak away, she risked her life to draw Wuye out and betrayed them all in a desperate bid for freedom and power. She offered them all to be slaughtered and devoured by the corrupted Yaksha, as well as to offered to lure more to satisfy his bloodlust for incentive to make him spare her own life. She even offered to be his consort as well, to let herself be used by him as he saw fit, sparing no expense to give anything and everything she could to ensure she survived this encounter. He conceded out of convenience, taking her as promised and continuing his slaughters about Wuwang Hill with her aid.

Anhe delighted in having his favor, even with how terrified of him she’d been at first, growing more and more sadistic herself with every massacred he’d rend, every death scream that filled her ears while she remained unscathed. The thrill of power and having a mate so powerful to keep it was too alluring and far too intoxicating, she would never dream of ever parting from him.

Only for her to end up alone and powerless anyway when the former Yaksha was killed shortly after the birth of Da’Lun.

Much of his childhood had been Anhe relentlessly tormenting him, using him as a scapegoat for how her life had fallen apart and due to having been affected by his father’s karmic debt as well ( both in her continued presence alongside him up until that point and in stubbornly lingering at his lair where the miasma was all concentrated rather than returning home with him gone ). Da’Lun took the abuse without protest, wholeheartedly believing her and his own guilt. He spent his whole life striving to ‘make up’ for his existence, in bringing her gifts and attempting to make her life easier every way he could. To protect and provide for her as his father had intended.

It all came to a crashing stop when his mother at last succumbed to the cursed energy infesting their home. Or so he tells himself and anyone who ponders of her fate, not wanting to admit he himself had killed and devoured her. It had been when she’d tried to end his life first and the resulting corruption of them both had his adeptal nature spiraling out of control during the struggle. His Electro Vision had been what had ultimately murdered her, bestowed upon him during his struggle as she denounced and cursed him, which he hadn’t realized until the morning after.

Plagued with guilt and fear, and knowing he must have taken on her share of the karmic debt's influence, his father's ability considered, he traveled Teyvat to distance himself from his former home for a few years. For 500 years, he witnessed beauty and horrors alike throughout it all, before he decided to settle some time in Sumeru. His main aim had been to learn all he could on humans and their histories ( learning from each Darshan over the course of the centuries he’d spent there, changing his appearance every time he’d reapply ), as well as to pass the time in a way that would not aggravate lingering traces of his father’s influence. It was while he learnt from the Amurta Darshan when he met Danae. With time to spare, and admittedly intrigued by the utter madness of her ideas and her equally frenzied determination to see such impossible fantasies made reality, he signed a contract to assist her in any endeavors she may undertake for them, as she would his own, per its terms. They would maintain it dedicatedly before briefly parting ways when her illicit studies were discovered.

He himself remained at the Akademiya mere weeks before deciding his life had dulled too much without her odd ideas and eccentric ( not to mention at times exceedingly cruel ) methods, setting off to travel again in search of her. Traveling through his homeland, he would come to meet Ozzy, whom he would follow to Mondstadt, after he’d found him interesting company, especially when the man would encourage him to not feel so wary of the karmic debt’s influence. There, he would become a founding member of his gang when it resulted that the man’s interest had been likewise piqued and thus given him the invitation to stay.

Ozzy was able to locate and drag Danae into his business thanks to Da’Lun’s scheming and using the terms of their contract to rope her in.

What could he say? He would be a fool to let one of his favorite pieces go. Just as he would the chance to see what would come out of putting so many volatile little components together.

Surely the end result would be most spectacular indeed.

Oswald “Ozzy” Beauregard / Ásvaldr Bjornsson (appears early 20s): One of the remaining survivors of Khaenri’ah, though he keeps that card very close to his chest. Only Da’Lun is actually aware of said fact, due to their shared longevity and closer bond compared to many of the others. If asked of his origin, he will always give the half-truth that he is of the Sumeru region.

Stricken with immortality, Ozzy tends to push the limits of what said immortality will do for him, especially since his perception of pain and danger has been skewed severely by his curse. For the longest time, he had wandered about the desert and Sumeru’s forests, picking fight after fight using the very Abyssal energies he’d been corrupted with. Even with no formal combat training outside teachings he learnt as apprentice mage, his frenzied manner tended to allow him to prove a match for the hilichurls, Eremites, and Treasure Hoarders he encountered, leaving brutalized corpses and wreckages in his wake, and plenty a scar to mar his own body. Some of which healed worse off than others due to his inability and lack of real want to properly care for himself. Eventually, he would be found and formally taken in by the Fatui when he had too grievously injured to fight them off.

Not that he would have wanted to even if he could, considering how much they piqued his interest.

He had been with them long before Danae had joined, having willingly surrendered himself to be experimented on by Dottore out of boredom and curiosity to see what the man could get out of it. As well as a vain hope to possibly stave off his Erosion and keep his mind with the Abyssal energies eating away at it. Needless to say, Ozzy’s sanity still had taken quite the toll throughout the centuries he’s been alive, and the outright torture he faced through the time he’d been with them had truly not helped in the least. Especially not while being injected with god remains steadily twisted up his mind, more and more. The Abyssal energy he’d already been afflicted with had ironically been what helped keep himself through it though, allowing him to fully assimilate the god’s lingering energy into himself and steady his condition.

When Danae had decided to desert the Fatui, she broke Ozzy out from containment and left him an experimental Delusion to have him serve as a diversion so she could escape, figuring he would have some exploitable grudge that would prompt him to seek vengeance. And he served his purpose well, slaughtering Fatuus after Fatuus he encountered with the three tail-like, bladed chains he could manifest from it. He did so with great delight and utmost zeal, damn near like an animal in frenzy. But in truth, he really cared not for getting even. He rather merely wanted enrichment, as he called it.

While Danae had figured the Delusion would simply kill him in the end, his own longevity and the god remains he’d assimilated allowed him to use the Delusion so freely without truly permanent consequences, though still at certain cost to his body after particularly prolonged usage. It severely aggravates the place with the god remains had been injected, low at his right side where the Abyssal energy was at its highest concentration. Due to it also being the place of his most severe wound and one of the ones that truly never healed properly, it leaves him feeling as though something had been gouged right out every time he’d stop its use. Still, in the moment of that first use, all he could think of was the thrill of the fighting and being able to run about, free at last. To this day, that very thrill is what keeps him using it, even knowing the painful consequences.

The euphoric high he felt back then lead him to completely destroy the location all together, both in his own kills and in tampering the delicate machinery that would consume the rest of the location along with it in the ensuing explosions. He himself made his getaway before the destruction caught him up along with everything else, after finding and bringing along a fellow victim ( not that he consciously saw himself as such ) of the Fatui experiments.

After hearing tales of Monstadt, her homeland, the idea of a nation whose Archon had no real say in its ruling appealed to him greatly, Thus, he would hijack and man a Fatui ship to gain leave off Inazuma, heading to the Southern side of Liyue, and making their journey back to Mond that way.

Ozzy’s aim in making the gang had solely been to collect interesting people to surround himself with, nothing more nothing less. Something to help stave off ennui and keep his mind sharp; a little pet project he could maintain or ruin at his leisure when the time came. It only became a formal organization incidentally, but he finds it a decent pastime to run it and especially the business he and Da’Lun came up with as a front.

Due to past experiences, he has a mild to severely violent visceral reaction to fire based abilities; which is only worsened by his love of deliberately avoiding triggering his own phobia and habit of gambling with extreme stakes, typically involving fire in some way.

What sort of gambling man would he be if he let something like that stop him, after all?

Elisabeth “Eliza” Merrimack (18) - A Mondsadt-born girl whose family lineage traces back to the Imunlaukr clan, after the clan had broken up due to a schism. Originally Visionless, she would gain a Dendro Vision ( chronologically set late in the events of the Sumeru Archon Quest ) and take up Catalyst-based combat.

The eldest daughter of her main family at the time, she had a horse riding accident in her youth that left her paraplegic, exhibiting little to no movement in her legs even after treatment at the church. The fact that it had taken them some time to get her there, seeing as she had been lost for days, was probably behind it. Regardless, her family despaired at the incident, frantically trying everything they could to heal her, even as the church insisted nothing could be done. Even as she herself tried to reason it was alright; that she didn't need to be, having accepted their verdict when her family could not. And they never truly did.

When she was fifteen, the Merrimacks ultimately accepted an offer from the Fatui to aid them ( though in hindsight, Eliza couldn’t but wonder if it had been seen as an excuse to have them take her off their hands ), and carted her off far from home. Betrayed at her family giving her away so easily, especially after she realized they would not check up on her or visit, Eliza at last fell into despair after seeing what awaited her at the hands of the Fatui. Her parents had been lied to, after all–Eliza had not been taken in to receive care, instead becoming subjected to experiments with god remains like every other subject they got their hands on.

And no one would be aware of that to come save her. Assuming they would even care to try if they did.

Things began to change years later after meeting Danae, who was assigned to oversee her. To be precise, Danae had at first been in charge of her post-op treatments, ensuring the effects of the experiments didn’t disrupt her vitals and in keeping her alive overall. They began to know more of each other and interact after the then Fatuus had been promoted and would have her as an exclusive subject, due to her ideas and personal project.

Even with how callous Danae could be, she and Eliza eventually came to get along well due to Eliza coming to understand Danae’s wordless gestures and tough-love care after the former had begun to get attached to Eliza. Said care usually being in the form of snuck treats and material comforts. It wasn’t until later on in their friendship that Eliza learned it had been because she reminded Danae of her younger brother, that she had specifically requested to oversee her treatments because she wanted to help her like she'd intended to help him. Learning why and how she intended to do that did embitter Eliza rather than endear her though.

That said, they truly became each other’s first real friend and confidante after Eliza had been–even if gruffly–encouraged by Danae to start speaking up for herself and the first thing Eliza did was tell her off for thinking she ought to ‘fix’ her and any other person, for that matter. It had been a gut reaction based on Eliza’s own resentment of how her family regarded her as well as the god remains in her acting up due to her agitation.

Still, even while the burst of temper had startled Eliza, it had been enough for Danae to not only respect the girl, but also to begin to doubt her own goals. Most notably, it was enough to prompt the Fatuus to pick up her old ideas anew rather than continuing the original experiment plan she’d had altogether, choosing to help make amends in fashioning Eliza a special wheelchair to take her out for enrichment. Not that Danae would ever admit that’s what it had been for, even in present day, but Eliza understood all the same.

The day Danae broke out, she had actively tried to reach Eliza to bring her along, but was unable to in the chaos she’d wrought and severely underestimated. Thinking her dead, she prioritized her own survival and left without a second thought.

Eliza hadn’t realized she’d been abandoned once again, rather had been merely confused by the happening and chaos around her. She patiently awaited Danae to come, trusting the Fatuus to soon fill her in and protect her if need be. Instead, it was the newly freed Ozzy who had found Eliza and offered to bring her along after having slaughtered her guards and hearing her request to see the stars outside before he ‘put her out of her misery’ had moved him.

And especially because she then tried to cut his throat the instant he got close enough to carry her.

After convincing her he did want to bring her along, not kill her, she at last conceded and let him take her away from the wreckage of the lab. Eliza's tales of her home nation had been the reason Ozzy had chosen to settle there, and she was more than happy to return with him, though flares ups of the god remains in her did pose some problems both were unsure of how to handle. Not that he trusted anyone in Teyvat to be able to take care of her as they should, especially considering how she’d ended up in the Fatui’s hands in the first place.

Still, she is grateful he took it upon himself to allow her to stay by his side as his ward, even while she couldn’t offer him much in return in terms of fighting skill, money, or knowledge besides that of her home. When he founded his gang, she did find purpose in aiding with the logistics aspect of running the front for his gang, using the learnings of her youth. Without her, it would have fallen apart from the start, Ozzy would always say, leaving her giddy with excitement and her heart full. After finding and enacting a solution to quell the god remains in her ( taken place post-Sumeru archon quest, story-wise ), she would start taking a more active role in the gang as aid to their resident healer. In addition, her wheelchair would be adapted for combat, to suit her needs and her Vision’s abilities.

She is well aware that elemental concentrations worsen her flare ups, but she still constantly insists upon staying with everyone else in the gang and utilizing a soothing device relying on Elemental energy anyways. She’d rather spend it in comfort and with her friends, even the lot of them encourage her to when she frets what could come out of it. Once the traces of god remains in her would be sealed off enough, she is able to head out with them with her wheelchair from that point on, as well as set at ease her fears of hurting them. She still feels chronic flares up of pain due to her affliction, but with less risk of it going out of control, she can bear it a lot easier.

After all she’d been through, this was nothing. Nothing, in the face of being able to smile and delight in her life to the fullest once more.

Tyonna Durene (19): Hailing from Natlan, Durene is essentially a demigodess, born from the union of a mortal man, Jevaun, and minor goddess Oloku, whom he had ensnared with a talisman along with several of his friends and fellow warriors when her tempests had threatened their home village.

Bound to human form, Oloku had been content in their union at first when the man had been kinder to her than the others, up until her husband began to get exceedingly paranoid and possessive of her following being imbued with several of her blessings. She began to grow miserable, cursing Jevaun and unable to do much to fight him as her powers had become considerably weaker, especially after Durene’s birth. And it didn’t help that it was especially so because the man kept her away from the sea, an important source of vitality for her. Still the goddess did not fault her daughter upon her birth, teaching Durene the ways to be a soothsayer and healer so she could properly go through the initiation process and her actual training in the village once she was of the apt age.

Durene took to her learnings quite well, eager at the thought of being able to contribute to village this way. She particularly excelled in serving as an herbalist and healer, though she did work hard to improve her skills when it came to divination to impress her mother. It always did seem to put Oloku in a far better mood whenever she did, as well as when she would listen to her mother’s tales of gods and places she’d been, of her life prior to being confined to mortal form. Of their Archon, and her great deeds. More than anything, she loved singing for her mother, songs she learned from her and the others in the village, seeing how her voice seemed to bring the goddess some semblance of solace, when she felt her weakest.

At twelve years old, Durene learned the full story of her mother’s plight. Horrified and moved, she would elect to repay her mother all she’s taught her in concocting a clever plan to gleam out from her drunken father the location of each piece of the talisman needed to complete the needed ritual and free the goddess. With this knowledge, Durene was able to find and bring them to her mother, who would aid her in completing the necessary steps. As her bonds would break and her strength returned, Oloku lamented being unable to take her child with her. Promising to return with a means to ascend her as soon as she could, the goddess would transform into a pillar hundreds of crabs that would scatter into the sea and leave Durene standing alone at the outcropping. Bittersweet and all-too brief as their parting was, she felt content in knowing her mother would be happy at last.

The good mood would not last long, as Jevaun flew into a deadly rage in realizing what had happened when he awoke to the sounds of a howling sea storm after she returned home.

His rage did not frighten her, even as he demanded answers. Did the she not care about their village? Of what the goddess would do to them, now that she was free? Of why she’d been confined to mortality in the first place?

Durene truly cared not, insisting Oloku had borne and suffered enough under his suffocating hold. If they were all to be destroyed in her vengeful wrath, it was for the slight they’d done against her, and thus truly fair.

Her answers would brand her a traitor in the eyes of her father and, to his claims, their people. To ensure the goddess wouldn’t completely destroy them, he locked Durene away and made sure the goddess could never find her, and no one would in turn ever think to help free her.

She couldn’t say how much time had passed since he’d left her there. Days went by languishing in her prison, in the presence of no one else but her father, whenever he would stop by to bring her food. If her refusal to concede to his pleas to betray her mother and attempts to break out didn’t enrage him enough to leave her to her own devices the next few, that was. It wasn’t until she’d exhausted every attempt at escaping that Durene formulated a plan to escape.

The next time Jevaun came to see her, he found his daughter seemingly unresponsive. The man freed her from her bonds and frantically attempted to wake her, only to find his daughter conscious after all, taking advantage of his closeness to grab hold of him. The man was only able to catch a brief glimpse of her newly bequeathed Anemo Vision mere moments before she would sap the breath from his lungs. Her face twisted in every trace of hatred and resentment she felt towards him was the last thing he’d ever see as he would succumb. Durene would hold no remorse for her actions, even as the village people would come to find her and try to seize her in retaliation.

Escaping their clutches and leaving them to the mercy of her mother’s wrath, Durene would take to travel about Teyvat as a wandering soothsayer, making a pretty coin on divination and healing. Truly, that whole time she had been seeking a way she may ascend to join her mother, sparing no expense wherever she may go. She'd even forged a binding vow for herself, giving up her tongue, and thus ability to speak in exchange for power. Through her journey, she fostered a particular resentment born in her in Sumeru and the way the Akademiya had gone about managing knowledge at the time ( the reason for having rejected entry for her, thinking her to be of the desert folk ). Which lead to her resolving to ensure that place would be the first she may pay a visit to once she reached her goal, to tear it asunder for the offense, seeing as its god would surely not be able to match her when the time came.

It was in being found by Ozzy in Liyue and being requested to come with him, Eliza, and Da'Lun along the way that she came to have company once more. The final founding member of his gang, she would happily settle in Mond with them. But by no means does this mean she had given up on her goal. With Da'Lun and his influence, as well as the addition of Danae later on, Durene would find use in the team’s members to further seek the information she required for her own ultimate goal. Who knew, perhaps she would just need to be a little more patient, just a little bit longer.

Well, fine by her. That, she had plenty practice in.

Jaeda Purmizra (18): The daughter of an affluent family in Sumeru and the most recent addition to Ozzy’s gang. She joined them after running away from home and continuously hitching rides on caravans then later merchant ships that guided her to Mondstadt, where she’d been caught stealing from Ozzy’s tavern. Danae had nearly left her bound and at the complete mercy of Treasure Hoarders as punishment, had Eliza not intervened and personally pleaded her case to Ozzy. He accepted only because he knew it would piss off Danae in the process, and because he was intrigued by her Vision in particular,

Born male and then named Jahar, she had been the family’s sole heir and was raised into the role accordingly ( read: impossibly strict ) by her mother. It was thanks to a young servant girl who tended to her every need that she even began to experiment with and realized her actual gender identity. All because the girl had wanted to play dress up and needed a friend to help her, not realizing all the decorum she was breaking in daring to ask the heir, of all people, such a thing.

It had been quite the relief in realizing it, though, even when she hadn’t been actively searching for it. But to her, it meant everything from then on. And it meant despair, as she continued to masquerade as her mother’s precious only son and heir. She didn’t want to upset her mother, after all, especially since the woman banked so much of her bid for power as head of the family upon her. So she kept that her little secret, playing with the girl and growing up happily alongside her over the years.

Up until she and the girl had been caught playing.

The girl had been punished severely for her ‘crime’ and Jade was forced to bear witness to the bloody ordeal for humoring her. Only after the girl was left near death did Jade face her own punishment, the horrid humiliation her mother enforced upon her before an audience of the woman’s closest friends and advisers.

The anger she felt in seeing the life dwindling in her friend’s eyes and the cruelty she faced ignited a single-minded determination to make every last person in the room pay for her beloved friend's pain, enough to for her to black out, coming to only when her mother had screamed.

Snapping back to consciousness, Jade felt bloodcurdling horror and cathartic relief in realizing she’d burnt her mother’s lovely face beyond recognition, every other cruel person who’d participated in her torment left as naught but charred corpses in her wake. In spotting the gleaming, blood-red gem clutched tightly in her hand.

She didn’t stay long, stealing her friend away and running away from home with an intent to bring her along. They could make a life together away from them now, she was sure of it. She had a Pyro Vision after all, she was no longer powerless to protect them!

With the severity of the girl’s wounds though, her friend had little time left. With her last breath, the girl made her promise to live life for the both of them and to be happy. To stay safe, and never let anyone dictate how she may live her life ever again.

That day, Jahar died along with the servant girl. In his place and bearing the name of that girl to carry on her memory, Jaeda would set off to find that happiness she’d promised.

Mako du Raie (16): A Visionless young heir to a prolific merchant family in Fontaine, and the member who had joined the Snake-Eyes gang before Danae and Tua had. His father, Benshi, had been a doushin from Inazuma and met Mako’s mother, Marie, while she learnt the trade from her father, prior to the Sakoku Decree being fully enacted. Mako is their illegitimate child, though he was claimed to be his mother’s younger brother to save face for the family. As such, he was raised primarily under the strict watch of his grandmother and even stole the title of heir to the family from Marie, due to the story they’d given him.

He took to his studies like a fish to water, being quite bright and precocious for his age. And in his eagerness to pursue his grandmother’s approval, he went far above and beyond the efforts his mother had ever put into her own. The family agreed he was definitely a far more suitable heir than she as a result, though he avoided his mother’s jealous wrath by asking she be involved in everything he did. Like this, the woman’s temperament was appeased, her going as far as to even take credit behind his talent and boast of him to all who would meet them.

In all honesty, he would have been content enough handing her the reins of the family, had a business venture to Mondstadt not changed his mind entirely. His mother’s boasting lead to drawing Ozzy’s attention, the man having been seeking a nice, convenient little liaison for his gang’s front. With the boy being as young as he was, not only would he be easy to exploit, but his talent and influence would absolutely prove worth the effort to draw him in, just as he'd hope.

As such, Da'Lun would be the one to meet and gain his trust. To persuade him to join Ozzy’s gang as their merchant contact. And, to ensure Mako’s position and control over his family’s affairs, Da'Lun would even go as far as to encourage Mako to eliminate each and every family member that could possibly stand in his way of managing it all himself.

Mako couldn’t help but give in, even with how complacent he’d been before. All it took was being given the affection and doting he always wanted, rather than praises for his potential, stolen credit, and empty words he knew better than to believe. It took one friend, who cared and spoiled him so, to make him turn his previous wishes before and pursue a more ruthless ambition without a qualm. Even as he gazed into his mother’s dulling eyes, he would only feel a strong sense of satisfaction as Da'Lun would ruffle his hair with praises aplenty before carrying him back to Ozzy’s little haunt.

He knew full well he was to be used by Ozzy’s group, having realized it early on in Da'Lun’s attempts to worm his way into his heart. But once he’d met with the others and Ozzy himself, there was no longer a single trace of lingering doubt in his heart. Looking at the lot of them gathered to see him, all varying shades of proud of what he’d accomplished, no matter how horrific, he determined the excitement and validation that came with what they did was a lot better than living his life within conventional rules.

Where else could he feel like he was at the top of the world like this?

Tusitala / Tua (20): Originally hailing from a coastal village in Natlan then migrating to and settling in Liyue due to his father’s relentless pursuit of riches and lack of interest in the wars that ravaged their nation, Tua had been a Treasure Hoarder well before his coming of age. He is rather proud of the fact, often boasting of his own successes compared to other factions, especially after he’s fought his way through a group of them.

At first it had been at his father’s urging that he joined and stayed with the Treasure Hoarders they’d joined up with. It was only to serve as something to make for a side hustle while his father took care of other business dealings at first ( taking care of logistics for that gang while Tua himself got to take on the more dangerous aspects ), then it became Tua’s obsession as his own greed grew, right along his addiction for every victory and bounty he secured them.

He was quite content with this life, thinking himself the luckiest man in the world to have this chance. Even if he did have to surrender near all of his share of the spoils to his father, to quell the man's avarice. But with what he was allowed to keep or what he squirreled away to pass off as such later, Tua would take to decorating himself handsomely to show off his successes. As such, he’s got several piercings ( many of which he did himself ) along his body, as well as bits of gold embedded in his skin, particularly about his shoulders. He also has a few tattoos to commemorate his victories and his comrades, which glow whenever he uses his Vision.

Speaking of, his Geo Vision came to him in a show of his conviction to protect his Treasure Hoarder ‘family’ by all means and any costs. In this case, it had been in protecting them from a squadron of Milileth by the skin of his own teeth then later its aid, having chosen to cover them on his own to ensure they could make off with a particularly rich score. Because of it, he became quite popular among them, with the lot thinking he would lead them to great success and eventually become their leader.

The thought strongly appealed to him, enough that he resolved to make it a reality. As leader, he would have a greater right to a bigger share of the spoils, and he could be independent enough to break away from his father, too. And of course, being able to protect his comrades and look after them with greater responsibility and authority. That was his greatest desire above all else, one he would swear before them during the celebration of his blessing by the Lord of Geo.

Though he did eventually fail to keep his promise to them when a conflict with Fatui, and severely underestimating them, left his group all slaughtered or near death, himself included. With his last lingering traces of full consciousness, he lamented not being strong enough to protect them all, and expected to meet his shameful end along with them.

However his survival had been ensured when Danae had stumbled across the massacre. Though initially focused on eliminating the injured and resting Fatui and with her own hatred of Treasure Hoarders having her near ready to ditch them all as it was, it was due to her having determined his potential usefulness upon noting his Vision that prompted her to nurse him back to health.

Deliberately leaving all the others to their fates, as she didn’t need them.

When Tua would ask later after awakening, she would swear they were all goners by the time she had found him. That Tua had supposedly been the only one strong enough to survive because of his Vision.

Grief would take hold, but he wouldn’t linger on that feeling too much. Not enough for it to consume him, anyways. Not when his savior made him an offer to come with her, a suggestion to carry on in his comrades’ names and honor their memories in continuing to plunder and seek the treasures they'd so craved. Feeling both indebted to her and a thrumming need to protect someone once more now that he was without a family ( he dared not return to his father nor join up with a new Hoarder faction after such a harrowing defeat ), he would choose to follow Danae to Mondstadt.

Along the way and upon reaching their destination, they would take up mercenary work and end up wrapped up in the group they currently associate with now, after participating in an attempt on the young head of the Snake-Eyes gang alongside others like them. Said hit actually having placed by the young head, Ozzy, himself, using it as a ploy for recruitment to test if Danae had been worth Da'Lun's recomendation to his group. Tua likewise making it out alive alongside her and having demonstrated his immense strength and capabilities had been the icing on the cake. He was more than happy to accept the offer to join after that, no need for incentives or anything.

Well, okay, maybe the pay grade and further chances to seek riches while with them was a pretty good incentive. That, and being able to take part in a whole new gang he could protect and grow stronger with. Those who didn’t need to depend wholly on him and could defend themselves should his strength fail them. But he refused to do so again, swearing the very same oath he gave his late comrades before.

He will protect his newfound family, with all he has. Whatever it takes.

Mason Ennosigaeus (17): Sidon’s actual biological child. He was stolen away from his family by Morjena when she had found out of his existence, snatching him during the chaos she'd set off after tricking Eremites into looting the caravan the man's wife had traveled with on her way to the main city. It was a move meant to ensure Danae had no competition to being the man’s heir, especially after the woman and her attendants had been killed in the ensuing struggle. Danae was supposed to kill Mason upon being left with him, as Morjena had thought she’d thoroughly beaten the heart out of her. When it turned out the she hadn’t and even wound up with an attachment to the boy, Mason became an opportunity for Morjena to ensure Danae stuck around.

Mason was frequently abused by Morjena while Danae was gone and quickly came to rely on the latter for everything. Not that it necessarily meant he was entirely helpless. His weak constitution left him helpless as it was, sure, but in truth, Danae never failed to endlessly dote on him every chance she was home to see him, even going as far as to sacrifice her own meals for his sake. She would even forgo sleep to guard him against Morjena as best she could, and when she did, she would deliberately sleep in a way that if the woman pulled anything, she would be the one to take the brunt of her mother’s abrupt assaults. Every little thing he could ever want or need and THEN some was his at his command, and without hesitation. He need only ask. She couldn't offer him comforts like reassurances and gentleness, but this, this she could do for him. And he was wholly all for it, appreciating the one good thing he had amid the horrid life he was stuck in.

Inevitably, her boundless devotion and their environment twisted him up as badly as it had her, albeit in a different way. The one who truly wound up heartless and cruel, through and through, just as Morjena was, had been him.

He may come off as shy and unassuming but in truth, he is twice as vicious and self-serving as Danae, behind the gentle demeanor. He is the one person who can ask of her to do anything at his whim, no matter what it is, no matter how hurt she would end up in the process. And he's used that, time and again to sic her on whoever it was he so chose, be it strangers for his own amusement or even people he's realized she started to get a little too close to, in selfish need to ensure she wouldn't start giving away her loyalties. To test that she truly did mean her loyalties to him, and act accordingly if she hesitated or doubted. He still needed her to survive, after all.

At the same time, he is also the person others could use to strongarm Danae into damn near anything if they hold him captive, as any threats to him lead her to be all to eager to comply for his safety ( though woe betide those who lose him as a bargaining chip at any point during ). He is the One and Only Thing she has left to lose, but the feeling is not mutual. It hasn’t been from the moment she’d left him at the Akademiya on his own.

Even having been left in the lap of luxury when she'd been forced to flee, being torn from her side and the endless doting, from his greatest asset, left him stewing in a resentful rage. His bitterness and broken heart earned him a Cryo Vision amid the enraged outburst within his room, gleaming enticingly within the wreckage of her final gift to him. That Vision, however, he deemed the greatest gift of all, and one he thoroughly believes was the Tsaritsa’s personal wish to him and show of support.

As such, as of earning his Vision, he swiftly abandoned the idea of staying at the Akademiya. Instead, he sought to join the Fatui, using his power as incentive to be kept of use to them alongside the Cicin Mages. Though he was sure to mask what he did, telling Danae he got to travel for his studies so she never suspects. So her constant stream of money and gifts from afar never end, having them brought to him by agents he roped into his whims that happened to be stationed in Sumeru.

In learning she had also once joined the Fatui only to abruptly disappear, he never once believed her dead as many assumed her to be. Knowing her well and the lengths she would go through to survive and how much she loved her freedom, he assumed she truly ran away. Though he keeps this fact to himself. He has full intentions to help hunt her down and make her face her the full consequences for abandoning him. And the Fatui, too, of course. But if possible, he would like to be the one to bring her end himself. To look her right in the eyes as he would use his Vision to make of her a pristine statue for himself to keep.

Maybe then she’ll actually keep her promise to never leave his side.

#hc #v; intertwined fates (genshin verse)#long post for ts #//Ok; lots of notes on this one #For Da'Lun: Ironically; staying w the gang makes the influence of his father’s karmic debt worse; esp the more he kills for em.#Working with Danae yielded the same result; he didn’t realize it then; but when Ozzy made him aware he just #tends to conveniently Ignore that fact; thus he’s become more tempered and sadistic than he was before meeting her.#Absolutely Not making him a ticking timebomb at the rate things are going; No Sir. Luckily; Durene’s there to keep him balanced. Sometimes.#For Oz: If it's not clear; Oz’s Delusion weapon is basically akin to a xenomorph tail kjfnkfjg. Bc YES.#He scarcely uses the Abyssal abilities he has after getting his Delusion. Considers the thing a lil' gift from one of his favorite allies.#Only uses those powers in Emergencies; esp bc he doesn't want to reveal his heritage. Not out of real secrecy or anything.#Bc he wants to wait for the right TIME to drop it on his gang. Like the dramatic bastard he is.#To clarify for Eliza; she really had been baiting Ozzy to get him close to defend herself; not actually resigned to die.#That aside; I like to think her wheelchair post-Vision resembles comes to resemble like #The sealchairs in Witch Hat Atelier. Has one that looks & works like a regular one; then uses the sealchair-like one for missions.#Deffo uses her Vision to move about without help once she gets it; not too frequently bc it does take energy to manifest the vines and such #But being able to do so makes her happy even still. In regards to Durene:#She is their BACKBONE. They would all fall apart or Mcfreakin’ DIE without her around. Is also v fed up with them all & v fond all at once.#When she ascends; she has no idea if she’d rather smite or bless them; when all’s said and done. She'll figure that out then.#For Jade; None of the group know she is trans except for Durene/Danae; both due to accidents. Durene bc Jade accidentally hurt herself and #needed the treatment; Dani due to Jade accidentally admitting it over misunderstanding. Both keep it a secret; which she is v grateful #Aight; Mako time: He’s the youngest yet that makes him no less unhinged than the others; Jade learned that the hard way #Has an unrequited crush on Da'Lun but isn’t fazed about it bc the guy still spoils & indulges his every whim when he gets the chance anyway #He’s usually w them; leaving the family business to be run by two of Oz’s associates. Keeps frequent contact to ensure it doesn’t go under.#Occasionally travels back to deal w things. Like getting tickets to a certain magic show in Fontaine when they all decide to visit.#//Extra Tua notes; he was briefly infatuated with Danae after they began traveling together & she Definitely used that to her advantage.#After getting to know her & the kind of person she truly is; it’s since died down & he even has become more wary of her intentions.#Notably; he is right up there with Eliza & Durene as the group's sweetheart. Even w his avarice; he truly cares & is kind to them.#Mason. Oh boy Mason. He essentially is a Cryo Cicin Mage. Genuinely chose it bc it was easier to move about; being one #Dani wouldn't be Aware of him until around Fontaine. The resulting fallout will Not be pretty. The lad would make Sure of it

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supercutszns · 4 months

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Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸

fighting chance; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader

synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.

warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3

notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!

You’re not much of a fighter.

That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Unless you’re a child of Ares.

People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.

Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.

There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.

The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.

He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.

He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.

The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.

“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.

“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”

“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.

You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.

He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”

“Confer?”

“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”

A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.

“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”

It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?

“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.

He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.

“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”

“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.

You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”

His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.

“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”

It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.

The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.

You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”

You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.

“All good?” He asks gently.

It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”

Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.

“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.

He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.

“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”

Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.

“And you’ve always got our flag.”

You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.

He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.

There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.

Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.

The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.

Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”

“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”

“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.

Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.

“Luke—”

“I’ll find her!”

He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.

He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.

It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.

“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”

The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.

“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.

You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”

“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”

The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.

Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.

You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.

The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.

“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”

Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.

Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.

Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.

The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.

Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.

And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.

“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.

The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.

“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”

“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”

“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.

“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”

“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.

“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”

It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.

The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”

Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”

He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.

Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.

“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”

Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.

The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”

“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”

He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”

You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.

You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”

You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”

“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”

“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”

You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.

Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”

“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”

You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.

“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”

The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.

“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.

“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”

“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”

“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.

You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”

It makes you smile. “So second-best?”

“Tied for first.”

He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.

“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”

“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”

You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.

Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.

“Don’t care,” Luke says.

You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”

You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.

You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.

#perrie’s fics #perrie’s requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #charlie bushnell #luke castellan comfort #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fic #i kind of hate this i think I’M SORRY #but some parts of it are interesting so oh well #luke castellan you are fucking crazy.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Note

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

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

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment.

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze.

König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others.

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!”

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect.

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up.

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child.

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru.

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes.

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest.

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!”

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away.

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!” König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture.

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you, König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you.

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt.

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny.

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone.

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge.

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.”

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction.

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl.

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance.

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.”

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!”

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience.

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done.

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling.

Evolve, or die.

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later.

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.”

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants.

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA.

The Lieutenant is one of them.

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead.

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t.

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact.

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself.

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins.

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was.

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding.

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed.

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes.

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide.

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady.

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire.

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock.

Your finger slams into the trigger.

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself.

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König.

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary.

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch.

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later.

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure.

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König.

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone.

Anyone but you, that is.

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter.

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced.

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down.

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm.

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?”

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment.

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour.

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you.

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence.

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up.

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh.

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest.

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.”

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given.

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly.

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.”

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?”

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?”

He freezes, muscles going taunt.

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?”

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away.

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate.

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit.

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over.

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side.

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air.

König kneeled to you and bared himself.

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this.

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood.

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug.

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning.

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he.

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame.

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears.

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him.

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat.

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English.

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril.

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust.

You find none.

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening.

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words.

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize.

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized.

For you to come back to him. His partner.

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths.

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

NEW TAGLIST SIGN-UP: Here

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n

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mclqren · 1 month

Text

MAKE A WISH ★ CL16

PAIRING ✦ charles leclerc x fem!childhood friend!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you and charles have been friends since you were little kids, and each year without fail charles posts you on your birthday, unknowingly marking the milestones of your relationship [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ none, i think!

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ reader grew up in monaco. i tried to use old-ish pictures to mark the time period he was posting her from! this one's a bit on the shorter side because i only included charles' perspective of posting her. the fc i've used is cindy kimberly, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2017

liked by yourusername, user1, and 14,192 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc happy birthday to my very best friend! can't believe we've been friends for more than ten years, time flies by when you're having fun! love you y/n, have the best day ❤️

view all comments

yourusername awww charlieee!!

yourusername this is the sweetest omg

yourusername thank god you didn't use that crusty photo of me you threatened to use...

user1 okay now we haveee to see it

yourusername NOOO NEVERRR

yourusername thank you sm love you!!💘

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

user2 scrolled so far down i managed to find these old gems of y/n 🤣

user3 stop they're acc so cute i can't

user4 the way this is the point where they relationship was just so sweet and innocent is so heartwarming to me

user5 also before charles got slowly more and more whipped with each post he made

2018

liked by yourusername, user6, and 67,256 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc Y/N!! another year of us being friends, and another year where i have to put up with your awful dad jokes & incapability of cooking 🤣🤣 still, wouldn't have it any other way! love you y/n ❤️

view all comments

yourusername stoppp that cat was sooo cute

charles_leclerc ur cuter 😘

user6 THE BLATANT FLIRTING HELLOOOO??

yourusername birthday wishes much appreciated charles!! thank youuu 💘💘

charles_leclerc why so formal??

yourusername idk just felt like it ❤️

yourusername i literally can cook idk what you mean

charles_leclerc you almost burnt down my apartment??

yourusername intentional. 😊

user7 is that his girlfriend???

user8 nooo his childhood best friend from monaco!!

user9 well not yet anyways 🤷‍♀️

yourusername NOT THE BANGSSS IT WAS A DARK TIME OKAY

user10 Y/N REVISITING THIS IS SO FUNNY

yourusername NO STOPP WHAT WAS I THINKING.

2019

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel, and 102,441 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc hopefully the getaway to italy was enough of a birthday present for you 😘 happy birthday y/n! no one else i'd rather eat crappy pizza with ❤️

view all comments

user11 TELL ME HOW THEY'RE NOT DATINGG

user12 omg she is absolutely STUNNING!!

yourusername CHARLIEEE IT WAS MORE THAN ENOUGH

user13 she seems like such a sweetheart

yourusername the flowers were so beautiful oh my

charles_leclerc you have no clue how long it took me to find them 🤣🤣❤️

user14 GET TOGETHER ALREADYY

sebastianvettel 👀👀

user15 SEB IS HERE!!

user16 what on earth can this man know

2020

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 274,928 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc happy birthday to the craziest cat lady i know!! 🐈‍⬛ thanks for supporting me through my ups and downs, and staying with me during this crazy journey! the best person to ever have by my side ❤️

view all comments

user17 oh so he's in love.

user18 RIGHTTT

yourusername you can NEVERRR take me away from cats!!

charles_leclerc as a dog person this hurts

yourusername idc deal with it eclair!!

user19 crazy cat lady x dog guy >>>>

yourusername love you charlie 💘💘

user20 CHARLIE HAS ME WEAKKK

user21 if this man doesn't want her I DOOO PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE Y/N

user22 looking back on this in 2024 it's actually sooo obvious idk how (some) of us didn't see it

2021

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 451,002 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc forever thankful that my mama made me play with my (annoying) new neighbour when i was 7 years old 🤣❤️ happy birthday y/n, hope it's the best one yet!

view all comments

user23 HOW IS SHE SO PRETTYYY

user24 more y/n content asap pleaseeee

yourusername exploring spain w you was sooo much fun & the tour guide was great asw! @/carlossainz55 😉😉

carlossainz55 it was my pleasure! ❤️❤️

user25 PLS SAY THEY ARENT DATINGGG I WANT CHARLES & Y/N

yourusername omg no he's in a long term relationship & i'm not at all interested 😭😭

user26 charles x y/n is still possible then!!

yourusername not the picture of me and the sushi 🤣 my one true love!

charles_leclerc i think you prefer the sushi to me

yourusername you'd be right!!

user27 wait guys i'm a new fan who is this??

user28 y/n l/n!! she's charles' childhood best friend from monaco (and we're all 99% sure they're in love)

2022

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 729,090 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc the only person who continually manages to pull off white regardless of the weather ☀️ happiest of birthdays to you y/n! love you more each year ❤️

view all comments

user29 JUST ADMIT IT UR IN LOVEEEE

user30 L-O-V-E

user31 hey alexa play you are in love by taylor swift (listen until it gets in ur head pls!)

user32 literally: "pauses, then says you're my best friend and you knew what it was, he is in love"

yourusername I LOVE YOU 💘

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

user33 they're lovers, your honor.

yourusername don't get in the way of me and one direction

pierregasly are they not over??

yourusername SHUT UP GASLY IM IN DENIALLL

user34 she's truly one of us!!

2023

liked by yourusername, francisca.cgomes, and 1,033,994 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc my very best friend and now, i can officially say, the woman i am very much in love with. happy birthday y/n - thanks for putting up with me all these years ❤️❤️

view all comments

user35 CHARLES X Y/N CONFIRMEDDD

user36 THE CAPTION?? THEY ADMITTED THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER IM CRYING

user37 AND THE LAST PICTURE?? I LOVE THEMMMM

yourusername my love forever 💘💘

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

user38 parents pls adopt me i beg

yourusername THE FIRST PIC HELP i did NOT think you'd post that

charles_leclerc why wouldnt i 🤷‍♂️

francisca.cgomes what are you doing with MY WIFE 😖

yourusername idk PLEASE come pick me up baby he's annoying me sm rn ❤️❤️

francisca.cgomes dw on my way rn 🙏

pierregasly oh???

charles_leclerc it would seem we've been replaced, pierre!

2024

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,801,332 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc MY girlfriend!! happy birthday y/n l/n; 14 year old me would be very happy to call the girl he'd been in love with since a kid his girlfriend ❤️

view all comments

yourusername 14 year old me would be screaming crying throwing up right about now, if it's any consolation

charles_leclerc 🤣🤣❤️

user39 THE WAY THEY LOVED EACH OTHER AS KIDS ASW I CANT

user40 the definition of soulmates i can't

user41 PARENTSSS

user42 i need to find me someone who loves me the way charles loves y/n

yourusername in all realness though kika is my gf sooo idk what the caption is about buddy!

francisca.cgomes righttt?? 😘😘

charles_leclerc so should i change the caption orrr?

yourusername NOO i have to flex my relationship somehow 🤷‍♀️

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#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 imagines #f1 x you #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #mclqren #smau #formula one x y/n #f1 x female reader

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azsazz · 1 month

Text

Hide (Part 3)

Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2,447

Notes: A lil longer this time...enjoy 💙

[Part One] [Part 2]

_________________________________________

You don’t get the chance to call after Rhysand before he vanishes in a puff of darkness.

Your chest aches and tears prick your eyes. You’ve never fought with your brother like this before, not even when you argued over him coddling you long after you healed from the incident and wanted to have time alone without a guard Illyrian watching your every move.

This somehow hurts more than any of the injuries you sustained that dreadful night.

Eris stands from his chair and pulls you into his body, desperate for your touch as much as you are for his. He doesn’t care that Cassian and Azriel are watching his every move, how Azriel gets a hand on the hilt of his dagger as soon as he stands. He wouldn’t hurt you, couldn’t hurt you, but that burning in his chest that you let drift down the bond, he knows how much he has.

You swallow roughly, leaning into his chest. Eris strokes your hair softly, pressing his nose to your hair to take a deep inhale of your scent, one he hasn’t smelled for months this time, but it nearly brings him to his knees all the same.

Eris is incredibly happy to have you in his court but his happiness is stifled by both the fact that you and Rhysand are no longer on good terms, and that he’s bringing you to meet his family for the first time, and that alone is like walking into a den of wolves.

With you in his hold once again, none of that matters. Nothing matters besides you and your happiness, and he will try his damnedest to make that beautiful smile appear again. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and think of terrible, awful things so his cock doesn’t press into your stomach the way that it wants to.

Just being in his arms again helps calm you. Eris’ body is so warm and suddenly you feel so drained from the events that have happened here. All you want to do is burrow yourself against him and fade away for a few hours, but none of that is going to happen any time soon because your brother's words ring in your head.

Get out of my court.

Had he been serious when he said such a dreadful thing? His words are law in the Night Court but surely he couldn’t have meant that you needed to leave. Not while you’re fighting. Not like this.

You rest your chin on Eris’ chest when he draws up only slightly at the snort of disgust Cassian makes behind him. He doesn’t care that his back is turned to the two most powerful warriors in the Night Court, not when he has you in his arms.

Staring up at your mate, you blink slowly, looking deep into those russet eyes. They’re soft with worry, his fingers a gentle massage as he runs them down your back, needing to touch every inch of you possible. Eris restrains from kissing you, from claiming you in front of them, because you’re hurting more than you’re letting him feel, but he knows you better than that, even without the bonds help. The redness brimming your eyes, the tightness of your mouth, the way your fingers dig into his skin so harshly, like clinging to him is the only way you won’t break.

The kiss Eris places on your forehead is so gentle that a tear breaks free, rolling down your cheek. He wipes at it before he reaches down and twines your fingers together, letting you lean into his side as the both of you face your guards.

Your treachery is written clear as day across Cassian’s face. His thick eyebrows drawn taut, those hazel eyes flickering between you and your mate with contempt. The corners of his mouth are downturned in a disapproving frown, and you’ve never quite seen him like this before.

His hatred is palpable. You want so desperately to reach out to him, to explain all of this mess, but he will refuse to listen, no matter how much he loves you.

Azriel’s face is carefully blank. You’ve never mastered being able to read through it and it makes your heart clench in your chest.

“How could you?” Cassian blurts, as if any of this was your choice. You don’t choose when the mating bond makes itself known, and you certainly don’t choose who your mate is.

You’d been just as surprised as they were when the bond snapped into place in the middle of a meeting with the High Lord’s, sat right by your brother’s side. One look from the heir apparent of autumn has sent your bond striking, writhing in your chest at the sight of him. As soon as those russet eyes found yours, your breath caught in your chest, the bond snapping like a lance.

You’d gone pale and your brother had thought nothing of it, slipping into your mind to ask if you were okay while he kept his attention on the conversation at hand.

Ripping your gaze from Eris’, you had told him you suddenly felt ill, the first lie you’ve ever told your brother. It felt like shit in your mouth but the twisting of your lips had been misread as the sudden sickness you felt in your stomach.

Rhysand asked Azriel to escort you to your rooms in the Summer Courts castle, and even the shadow singer hadn’t deigned to read into the sudden rush of emotions running through your veins, the shared emotions of your mate.

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning heavily on Azriel when you felt the desperate tugging in your chest as if Eris was begging you to stay, not to walk away from him despite the centuries long clashing of your courts.

“Do not speak to my mate like that,” Eris hisses, slithering from his seat to stand firmly in front of you, keeping you safe from the two males you’d grown up with, that had taken care of you, suddenly looking at you like you’re the enemy. “She has done nothing wrong.”

“She has done everything wrong!” Cassian’s shout bites. You flinch a little, tucking in closer to Eris’ side. His russet gaze sharpens, lighting with anger. You tighten your arms around him so that he doesn’t do anything irrational like light Cassian up right where he’s standing. Cassian’s siphons glow menacingly as he swings his gaze to you, the hurt he’s experiencing clear on display. “You should have come to us! We would’ve—” He seems at a loss, the words choking up in his throat. “We would’ve been able to help!”

“Help what, Cassian?” You answer, voice cracking as your emotions heighten again. “There was nothing any of you could do, nothing to fix!” You’re exasperated, shoving a few strands of hair back from your face. “I am in love with Eris Vanserra and there is nothing that anyone can do about it!”

The silence that follows your words is scorching.

Cassian opens his mouth and shuts it immediately. He’s looking down at you like he doesn’t even know you, like he hasn’t known you since you were no more than thirteen and had been harboring the biggest crush on him. You’d seen him as someone who you could always turn to, someone who could ease the pain of many. The male who could so easily lead an army with a little wit and a lot of confidence, sweet and cheeky and rational.

Cassian is one of the strongest males that you know, but right now, in Rhysand’s absence but in front of the Mother and yourself, your mate and Azriel, he’s acting like nothing more than a fussing babe.

When Cassian seems to find his words, they are not nice. “If you truly believe that there was nothing we could have done, I don’t know you.” He shakes his head, sheathing the knife at his thigh.

You’re done listening to his vitriol. Your voice is heated, as if the fires that burn beneath your lover's skin fuels your words. “If you truly believe that I don’t love my mate, I don’t know you either.”

Cassian pins you with one more glare, chuckling softly as he turns to leave the room. “You have one hour to leave this court. Night’s armies no longer march with Autumn’s.”

Your breath leaves you in a harsh gasp but he’s already out the door. This…this is the worst case scenario. You’d been worried about the impending war against the King of Hybern and the Queen of the Black Lands. It has taken an immense number of correspondence with the other courts to plan your defense, and now it’s all for naught.

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracks as the weight of the night rests heavily on your shoulders. You peer up at your mate, the urge to burst into tears an appealing one, especially when you hear your mate’s stern words.

“There is nothing for you to be sorry for, fawn. Nothing,” he glances over to the last standing Illyrian in your way of leaving. Eris swoops down, unable to keep himself from you, pressing a soft but reassuring kiss to your lips. “We will speak about this later. You should gather your things.”

You look at Azriel for permission to do just that. His hazel eyes flicker between you and Eris before he nods slightly, leading you from the room.

His shadows trail you from behind, crawling across the walls like spiders. Him walking in front of you is a sign of trust that makes your shoulders droop a little. At least one of the three brutish Illyrians you consider your brothers sees reason.

“I surely hope that you know what you’re doing,” Azriel murmurs, turning down the corridor leading to one of the staircases leading upstairs. It’s not the grand one in the center of the house for everyone to see, and you’re thankful that his spymaster tendencies will keep you from being the entertainment of the night.

You can’t help but to think about your brother.

You clear your throat a little before answering Azriel. “If you cannot accept my mate, then you cannot accept me, either. Rhysand has made that abundantly clear.” You squeeze Eris’ hand, following Azriel down the halls that you know so well. There is no need for an escort, and each step closer to your room tightens your throat.

You adore how Eris is following your lead, how he’s letting you speak for yourself and not for you, no matter how much you know he wants to burn this manor to the ground.

“He is outside of his mind right now,” Azriel answers, his steps silent even though his boots are thick-soled. He moves like a whisper of night, always an eerie aura to the cobalt siphon clad male. He glances over his shoulder with a look that tells you you should know this, that you should know your brother better than anyone. “He will come around.”

You hope.

You don’t speak again on the way to your room. No one does. Eris is following along, eyeing everything because he has never been this deep into the House of Wind. It’s intriguing to him, or you think your mate might be cataloging everything he’s seeing for ammunition later. You’re much too tired to question it right now.

Following his lead, you drink in everything that you can; the scones and art littering the walls, the intricately patterned runner on the end of your bed, a gift from your mother.

It doesn’t take long for you to grab your things. Dresses and clothes you can purchase when you arrive in Autumn. You will need to fit in. You carefully fold the runner, aware of both males eyes on you as you do so; one pair loving, the other calculating.

You pack a few more personal items, the ones that mean something to you: a necklace gifted to you from Rhysand on the coldest solstice you’ve ever experienced, a sweater, one of the only gifts you’ve actually received from your father. Your favorite knife is already strapped to your thigh beneath your dress—a gift from Azriel, and with a slight frown, you shove the book Cassian had picked out for you into your bag, clipping it shut.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to bring, my mate?” Eris asks tenderly. You nod firmly. Looking around your room one last time, you wonder if you will ever see it again. Azriel seems so sure that Rhysand will come around, but you’re not so sure. You may be fighting on the same sides of the war, but you are no longer allies.

“Yes. I’m ready.” You say it with a fake finality that you don’t mean. You peek at Azriel one last time and catch the remorse in that dark gaze of his.

He doesn’t like this anymore than you do.

Eris takes your bag and then your hand, winnowing you to your new home.

When you appear in the Autumn Court, his rooms greet you. The lights are buttery and soft, an immediate comfort that reminds you so much of the caring male mated to you. The walls are painted a deep olive with the most luxurious curtains draped all the way to the floors, which are a warm wood.

A fire roars loudly in the hearth, its flame burning brighter with your sudden appearance, like the flames are trying to crawl from the firebox to hold you in their warm embrace.

Eris frames your face with his hands, sweeping his thumbs beneath your cheeks, drinking you in intently. He’s nervous, you realize, because you’ve never been to autumn, never seen his rooms nor met his family. You bond thrums in your chest as you send all of the love and thanks you’re feeling through to him. His shoulders drop immediately, the tension leaking from them because no matter who gets in your way, from your family or his, you will always have each other.

The kiss is searing. You step further into your mate, reveling in the feeling of being alone with him again. Nothing else matters outside of this. Outside of his smokey scent, outside of the hands on your body, creeping up your back to split the collar of your dress, outside of his lips on yours—

Eris breaks the kiss almost abruptly, his lips the same red dusting as his cheeks. You can’t help but to lick your lips, your core melting when his eyes track the motion.

“Welcome to the Autumn Court, fawn. Let me show you my bed.”

_________________________________________

Hide taglist: @littlesw01f @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @naturakaashi @lexluvswriting @chybay22 @acotar-thirst @teenagellamaangel @minaethrym @tothestarsandwhateverend @coolepowersthings @meritxellao @callsigns-haze @mrs-azriel @eminvelaris @kennedy-brooke @melsunshine @starsinyoureyes @sleepylunarwolf @actuallykate777 @lilah-asteria @acourtofbatboydreams @misskennygirl

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #hide #eris angst

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poisonlove · 1 month

Text

Stay with me | t.c

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X reader

Summary: Tara had a nightmare and the first person she thought of calling is y/n.

Words: 7.6 K

Warning: Post-traumatic trauma

"Tara! What the hell happened?" I tighten my grip on the phone, wondering why Tara was calling me at 4 in the morning. Sleep fades away as anxiety takes over.

I had met Tara Carpenter weeks ago almost by chance, arriving late to class. At that moment, I saw an empty seat next to a girl with brown hair and without a second thought, I headed in that direction

.Later on, we exchanged pleasantries, but over time those exchanges became more frequent, with added walks along the corridors and chats after school.

"Are you okay?" I ask quickly, feeling a deafening silence from the other end.

"Tara?" I inquire, feeling the worry growing inside me.

I was bitten by anxiety, my lower lip trapped between my teeth as a thousand thoughts, none of them encouraging, raced through my mind. Recently, Tara had told me about the horrible experience she had in Woodsboro with her friends and sister because of two psychopaths disguised as Ghostface. She literally went through hell... losing friends, suffering horrible injuries, and the growing anxiety of being pursued.At that moment,

I had hugged her to try to convey my support. Tara had buried her head in the crook of my neck, returning the gesture almost hesitantly. I knew she was scared, terrified of the idea of trusting someone again and reliving that horrible experience.

But despite everything, she trusted me.

"Y/n?" Tara's voice was broken, her nose sniffling as she sobbed. "Tara!" I say with my heart pounding, waiting for Carpenter's words.

"Can you come over?" Her voice becomes weak as she speaks, sobs threatening to escape any moment. "Are you hurt?" I ask, terrified, anxiety threatening to drive me insane.

Tara sniffs, the sound of her breath making me even more anxious. Should I run? Take the bus? Call an ambulance and rush to her apartment with a weapon? But would I be able to kill to defend her? A thousand questions assail me, and just the thought of having to kill sends shivers down my spine.

"No..." she says hoarsely, and a sense of relief washes over me.

"Has he... come back?" I timidly ask, biting my lower lip.

I didn't know what the term Ghostface would provoke in Tara, so I just asked if her fear had followed her to New York.

"No" Tara says timidly, her sobs threatening to escape from her lips.

I relax and look out the window, seeing the city shrouded in silence, the light from some lampposts illuminating bits of the street, and cars passing by occasionally.

"What's going on?" I ask calmly, knowing the brown-haired girl was safe."I need you..." she whispers weakly, her nose sniffling. "I had a horrible nightmare," she concludes with a faint voice, her voice still broken.

"Tara..." I respond gently, my heart squeezing at so much tenderness. "Is Sam not there?" I ask as I get out of bed, searching for my clothes.

"No... She'll be back from work at 7," she says timidly.

"Is it really that urgent?" I ask, biting my lower lip, sighing. "Yes..." Tara replies hoarsely, and I know the only way out of this situation is to go to the brown-haired girl's apartment.

"What did you dream about?" I ask timidly as I put on my pants, the phone between my ear and shoulder to keep it up. "I... I dreamt of him again... He was killing you in front of my eyes, laughing," she says with terror in her voice, sighing loudly. "I felt so powerless and scared," she sobs.

"I'm here," I say gently.

I put the phone on speaker as I put on the sweatshirt Tara had given me. "When I woke up, I was crying, and not seeing Sam panicked me," she confesses quickly, and I smile at her words.

I was glad she called me because she wanted my company.

"I'm coming, okay? Just give me 10 minutes," I say gently, wanting to reassure Tara, and the brown-haired girl mumbles in response. "10 minutes," she says timidly.

She had woken me up in the middle of the night, but when it came to Tara, I didn't mind.

(...)

"Hey! sorry for being late, I thought some chocolate might..." I start to apologize for being late, but Tara's arms around my neck freeze me in surprise.

A smile spreads across my face as I let myself be enveloped by her warm embrace, responding to her need for contact. Tara seemed to have developed a particular affection in the last few weeks, perhaps she was scared to be alone. It was entirely understandable considering what poor Carpenter had been through.

I sigh and leave a kiss on her forehead.

"You're here," Tara whispers against my neck, the sound of her voice muffled but full of meaning, and I can only smile in response.

Her arms tighten slightly around me

"always," I whisper timidly.

Tara pulls away from my neck but her arms remain around my waist. Her eyes look at me sweetly, chin up and a dazzling smile showing her dimples "you're my friend, that and more for you" I confess a bit bitterly for the word friend.

Why deny it? I liked Tara, a lot.

Tara continues to look at me without blinking, a shy smile on her lips. I could see the freckles dusted along her face. "So... Did you bring the chocolate?" Tara clears her throat, her eyes pointing to the chocolate in my hands.

"Oh yeah," I say and chuckle timidly, cheeks reddened with embarrassment."Thank you, you're adorable," Tara smiles widely and takes the chocolate.

The brunette puts the chocolate on the glass table.

Then her arms found purchase around my shoulders, her nose brushing against the weak point of my neck. "Why did you want me here?" I ask timidly, my voice just a whisper against Tara's ear.

Tara sighs loudly and presses her face more against my chest

"I feel safe with you" she murmurs weakly and my cheeks flush red.

Tara looks at me and her cheeks were flushed.

I raise an eyebrow seeing how Tara's eyes were slowly closing due to sleep. Tara mumbles and yawns."You're sleepy huh? I could keep you company on call until you fall asleep" I chuckle timidly and Tara yawns again.

"No," Tara whines with a cute pout, and I feel her body curl up even more against mine "I was really scared... I needed a hug."

I sigh deeply, feeling the weight of her vulnerability and without hesitation, I pull her into my arms, trying to convey all my support.

"I... felt like that night when I was attacked," Tara continues, shuddering against my body as her words pierce my heart. "Alone at home... vulnerable... but terrified because I knew there was someone who wanted to hurt me," she confesses, and my heart breaks for her.

"I'm here," I whisper gently, placing my lips on her forehead hoping that my gesture can somehow soothe her suffering.

Tara sighs against my chest.

"Come on... Let me take you to bed," I say timidly, my arms around her waist. "Sam is coming," I whisper, and Tara nods against my chest.

"Will you take me?" she asks weakly, yawning, and I smile when I notice her firm grip on my neck.

I bend down to gather her into my arms, and we head towards the bed where Tara emits a small sigh of satisfaction at the contact with the mattress.

"Goodnight," I say timidly, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. "No... Stay with me," the brunette says determinedly, her hands clinging to my hoodie."But Sam..." I begin, trying to express my concerns about her sister's reaction, but Tara interrupts me with a pout.

"Sam won't say anything, stay with me please," Tara whispers sweetly, looking at me with eyes full of hope and vulnerability like a deer in need of comfort.

Faced with her tender request, I find myself unable to resist.

I sigh and settle down next to her, feeling the warmth of her body close to mine and a smile graces Tara's face. "When Sam arrives, I'll go home," I whisper gently, feeling her hands wrap around my arm as if I were a plush toy to cling to.

"Yeah..." Tara responds briefly, resting her head against my chest, and my heart skips a beat at her response.

I sigh with contentment, allowing myself to be completely enveloped by her embrace, smiling weakly as I reflect on the evening (or rather, morning) we've spent together.

In the end, Tara doesn't let me go, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #scream movie #scream vi #scream #ghostface #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #post traumatic stress disorder

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livinginshambles · 5 months

Text

Preview: Hear me out, please | James Potter x Fem!Reader

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out.

Notes: Hey there, sorry for the wait. Here is a preview! It's short, but it's all i want to give yall, hehe. I love you guys. Also, it's not proofread. idk :)

Warnings: f-word, James is fed up with your sisters and shakes them a little.

Masterlist. Part one. Part two.

Part three is up!!

______________________________

A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmering started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He started to shout. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He looked around, his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it finally opened James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James' sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James' brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

Full fic

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #young james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter angst #james potter fluff #marauders era #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders fanfic

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jpmarvel90 · 6 months

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Sacrifice

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Word Count: 5148

Relationship: Sister Nat & Sister Yelena x Reader Wanda x Reader

Summary: Y/n has been haunted since she watched Natasha fall to her death on Vormir. Her own grief is only intensified when Yelena finds out and shifts blame to the one person that wished it was her who had made the ultimate sacrifce.

Y/n's POV:

Coming home from Vormir without Nat was the most heartbreaking moment of my life. Seeing our sister Yelena's reaction added to the pain that I was already feeling. When Clint, Nat and I arrived at Vormir, none of us thought we'd be leaving as a duo. As soon as the realisation hit, I knew it had to be me. Clint had a family and the world needed Natasha. I was the obvious choice.

But Nat had other ideas. She had to be the hero. Whilst her and Clint were fighting, I took the opportunity to go myself. But Nat stopped me at the last minute. My feet were off the ground as I jumped, I was content with my decision. But my stubborn sister had to be the hero. She was able to grab me at the last minute and use her strength to switch our position.

I still had a hold on her hand, but she was out of reach from Clint, so it was reliant on me to be able to pull her up. That was made even more difficult by the fact that Nat didn't even try. My eyes were filled with tears when I realised that I wouldn't be able to save her. "You can't leave us. Yelena needs you. I need you!" I begged her, a sob getting caught in my throat. "It's ok. You'll be ok." She tells me but I shake my head, tears continuing to fall. I try once again with all my strength to pull her back up. "Let me go." She whispers before kicking off the wall. I can still see her body falling as I failed to save her. The world lost a hero that day and Yelena and I lost our sister.

It never should have been Nat. She was the true hero that carried on fighting when so many gave up after the snap. She gave her life to rectifying the wrongs she was forced to do whilst in the Red Room. Her ledger was already clean, and she deserved the chance to be able to have a normal life. To not have to fight any more.

After the battle was over, we were reunited with our family and friends that we had lost five years ago. I hadn't only lost Yelena, but my girlfriend Wanda too. It had been hell, and it was the reason I stuck by Natasha and worked tirelessly with her to find a way to bring everyone back.

However, telling them both the news was almost as devastating as the moment I saw Nat die. Yelena was angry and couldn't understand it. Wanda was devastated too. Nat had been like a sister to her when she first joined the Avengers. She was hurting too. I tried to be there for them as best I could. I was still grieving myself, but I knew I had to be there for my sister and girlfriend.

It was hard as they both started to withdraw, spending more time together. They had a shared experience and found comfort in each other. I started to feel like an outsider and my relationship with Wanda was slowly becoming more distanced. Yelena rarely spoke to me. Until she uttered the most devastating words at Nat's funeral. "It should have been you." There was a venom to her words and I could see that Wanda agreed. It made everything more painful as they were true. It should have been me. No one needed me. But Natasha Romanoff, everyone needed her.

Life at the compound become more difficult by the day. Those of us left signed to work with the government to keep the world safe from another situation like Thanos. There were rumblings that Hydra had resurrected, so most of our missions focused on wiping out anyone who posed a threat.

During this, my relationship with Yelena became non-existent. Any words said in my direction were said with hate. It got so bad that Fury could no longer put us on the same missions as he couldn't guarantee my safety from my own teammate, my own sister.

Wanda never officially broke up with me, but she moved out of our shared room and no longer spared any time for me. If I walked into a room, she was quick to leave. The love we once had seemed to have vanished when Nat died. Each day, it just reiterated why it should have been me.

So, I decided that I had to find a way that I could bring Nat back. No matter what the consequences might be. I spend a lot of time in the library working out if there was anything I could do that might be able to make everything right again. Though one phrase keeps coming up. "A soul for a soul." It's what's the Red Skull had told us when we were on Vormir, could that be a replacement for a soul already sacrificed.

I decide that's where I need to start. A trip back to Vormir and a conversation with the Red Skull will hopefully set me off on the way to bringing Nat back. I just need a distraction for everyone here so I can "borrow" a quinjet and make the journey. "Hey Y/n, we're going to have a team evening together. Maybe go for a couple of drinks, want to join us?" Bucky calls out after knocking on my door.

"Are Yelena and Wanda going?" I ask as I open the door. He looks at me sympathetically and nods. The rest of the team have been a little distant with me too. Not that I blame them. They're closer to Yelena and Wanda so I don't expect them to insert themselves into the middle of whatever shit show of a relationship we have.

"I'll give it a miss tonight. Thanks, though Buck. Have a great time." I tell him with a tight lipped smile. "You ok Y/n?" He asks me, taking me by surprise. "Oh yeah. I'm good. Thanks for checking in. I appreciate it." I respond. He nods and goes to turn before stopping and looking back. "How about on Friday, you me and Sam all go out together. Make a night of it. I know you've been a little isolated recently. I'm sorry for that." He suggests. "Oh uh. Thanks Bucky, sure that would great." I agree and I see him smile. "Great, we'll sort something out." He smiles and heads off.

This gives me the perfect opportunity. If they're all out, I can start to bring my sister back. I take a bit of time getting everything in order just in case I don't come back. I leave a message for Nat, hopeful that she might be able to see it one day. I considered leaving one for Yelena and Wanda, but they won't care. They'll be happy that the right person is with them.

I hear them all leave about 6pm so I gather a few of my things and head out. One of the few skills I'm grateful for from the red room is my hacking ability. Hopefully, by the time Shield realise the jet is missing, I'll be long gone. I'm weirdly not nervous as I board the quinjet. I feel a sense of hope. I know this is the right thing to do and I just pray that I'll be able to pull this off.

When I finally reach my destination, I take the familiar walk up to the top of the cliff. I get flashbacks of the last time I was here. The last time I was with my sister. I can still hear the conversations we had as I reach the top. I familiar figure waiting for me.

I take a deep breath and make my way forward as the figure turns to face me. "Ah, Y/n Y/l/n, I wondered when I would see you again."

Wanda's POV:

This night out with the team was much needed. Since everything with Thanos, it's been difficult to find the light. We lost a lot and we're still healing. I was surprised when I felt a pang of disappointment when Bucky came to us without Y/n in tow. Not that I'm surprised, we've not exactly made a welcoming space.

I especially have been bad with her. She's my girlfriend after all, but I just let my grief consume me. Add on the confusion of missing out on five years of life, it's just been difficult to make sense of it all. Yelena was the only one who knew how I felt and it was easier to be with her than Y/n.

But now I realise what I'm missing. The support and comfort of the woman that I love. I was stupid to let myself become influenced by Yelena. I started to feel her anger, but mine wasn't directed at Y/n. It was the situation. It just became my outlet as I had nowhere else to direct it. Which is completely unfair on Y/n. She was grieving herself and lost Yelena and me on top of it.

"I'm going to check on Y/n." Bucky tells us when we arrive home, earning a huff from Yelena. "Why do you care?" She snaps. "Because she has become isolated and it's not fair. I shouldn't have let it go on for so long." He defends. "Maybe she deserves it! If it wasn't for her, Natasha would be here." Yelena bites back. "ENOUGH!" Clint shouts, stepping in front of Yelena.

"I promised Y/n I wouldn't get involved, but I can't stand here anymore and let you talk like this. Y/n tried everything to save Nat. She had to watch as she slipped from her fingers after doing everything for it to be her. Y/n had wanted to make the sacrifice herself. So please just stop. If you don't want to be around her or have her in your life, fine. But this bitching needs to stop." He scolds the young Russian. Yelena doesn't respond but lets her head hang low for a moment. "I'll join you Bucky." Clint responds, following behind Bucky.

I should go with them. But when I take a step, Yelena looks to me. "I need more vodka." She huffs, taking my arm and moving us into the kitchen to get a drink. But before she's able to drink the shot she's poured, FRIDAY makes an announcement. "Director Fury has request everyone's attention in the conference room immediately."

"Cyka." Yelena huffs, quickly taking the shot and making her way to the meeting room. I follow behind and see Bucky and Clint return but without Y/n. I don't question it, instead I take a seat next to Yelena. "Would one of you like to explain where the quinjet is?" He asks, his tone flat. "No idea. We've all been out for a team meal." Sam explains. "Was Y/l/n at this meal?" Fury asks after noticing her absence.

The silence provides his answer. "That would explain the encryption on the tracking." Fury sighs. "Wait, you think Y/n has taken the jet?" Clint asks, giving Bucky a worrying look. "Well, considering she's the only one not here and only two people in this team have that ability to hack the quinjet like that." He responds and we all know the other is Yelena.

"This is not good. Do you think she's actually done it? That she found away?" Clint whispers to Bucky who matches his concerned look. "Do you know where the jet was heading?" Clint directs to Fury who shakes his head. "No, she's hidden the location." He replies. "Shit." Clint mumbles. "Something you'd like to share?" Fury questions him. Clint doesn't respond but pushes a piece of paper towards him.

Fury takes it and I see a sadness flash across his face. My heart rate picks up a little and the regret of how I have treated Y/n these last week's grows tenfold. I selfishly thought she would always be there waiting for me for when I was able to get passed this grief.

"Ok, let's go. Hopefully we can catch her before she does something stupid." Fury moves to leave with no explanation. "Would someone like to explain what is going on?" Yelena asks angrily. "Considering you haven't cared about Y/n's wellbeing recently, I'm sure you don't care now." Clint snaps and I see a flash of hurt on Yelena's face. "We don't have time for this." Bucky steps in, bringing the focus back to the situation at hand.

Mindlessly, I follow behind the others towards the quinjet. I have no idea what's going on, but from the panic in both Clint and Bucky's eyes, I know it can't be good. "You're going?" Yelena reaches out to grab my arm and spin me around. "You're not? She's your sister Yelena. I know you're angry at her, but it seems like you might lose her too. It's a loss I know that I won't cope with." I respond, snatching my arm from her and running to the jet.

"Co-ordinates set to Vormir." Clint tells Fury as the jet takes off. Hearing those words sends fear through my body. Why would she be going there? This fear and sickening feeling just grows as we get closer to our destination. The rest of the journey is in silence before the jet touches down.

Cautiously we all disembark and my eyes instantly land on the quinjet a few metres away. "This way." Clint instructs, directing us towards a worn path up to the top of a cliff. As quickly as we can, we start off to reach our destination. Though I don't think any of us expected the sight that was waiting for us.

In this moment, I feel like my heart is in my mouth. My emotions overwhelm me as I see the person that I had been grieving for. "Natasha?" Yelena whispers in shock as our eyes land on a familiar red head in front of us. I wipe at my own eyes, not believing what I'm seeing in front of us. Nat turns around with a confused look on her face as she looks over us. "You're really here?" Yelena says as she rushes forward and wraps her arms around her sister.

My own gaze then moves around trying to find Y/n. She has to be around here somewhere. "What happened? How am I here?" Nat asks once we've all greeted her, plenty of tears shed between us. That's when I notice the sadness in Clint and Bucky's eyes. "Clint?" I ask, panic building within. All he can muster is a whisperer sentence. "A soul for a soul."

Natasha's POV:

The last thing I remember was being in this odd space between reality and wherever I was due to move onto next. I was aware I was dead, and it seemed like I was just waiting. For what, I'm not sure. But I certainly hadn't expected that I would find myself back on Vormir. I knew time had passed. I just don't know how much time.

I look over the edge of the cliff as flashbacks from that day replay in my mind. I jumped. I stopped Y/n from doing it and I jumped in her place. I died, making the sacrifice so we could get the soul stone and beat Thanos. Had we beat Thanos?

I don't get time to really take it all in as I hear footsteps behind me. I quickly turn, getting in my fighting stance ready for whatever might be coming my way. However, my question is soon answered when I see two faces that I've not see in five years. Within seconds Yelena has wrapped her arms around me and is holding me close. I take comfort in her arms and look around for our other sister, desperate to hold her too.

After greeting everyone, I ask what had happened and that seems to bring a sadness to Fury, Bucky and Clint. When Wanda pushes Clint, he simply states, "A soul for a soul." I don't understand what he means, we already did that to get the soul stone in the first place. "What do you mean? Where's Y/n? Is she back at the compound?" I ask, not getting a good feeling about my sister not being here for this reunion.

"Let's get back home and we can share what we know." Clint suggests, guiding us back towards the path. Yelena and Wanda both stick close to me. Yelena seems delighted, but Wanda has a darkness around her. A worry that I don't understand. But I fear it is related to Y/n. "How long has it been?" I ask, wanting to get some sense of the time that has passed. "Three months." Yelena responds. "It felt like we had only been gone for seconds but in that time, I had lost you." She adds on, turning to me and pulling me into a hug once again. I've never seen Yelena this vulnerable before, so I just hold her that bit tighter.

When we reach the quinjet, I notice that there are two which takes me by surprise. "I'll take this one back. Then we'll meet to discuss moving forward." Fury explains, to which Bucky nods. "Not that I'm complaining, but is anyone going to explain how I'm back?" I ask, getting a little frustrated. They all look at each other until Clint speaks up. "We actually have no idea, but we think it has something to do with Y/n." He responds, before turning to enter the jet, preventing me from questioning him further.

My mind is so confused right now. It still feels a little hazy as we fly back to the compound. I have so many questions and I can't quite make sense of what is happening right now. As grateful as I am to be with my family again, I want to understand why. Is this temporary? Will I end up back in the middle place again?

When we arrive back home, I aimlessly follow the others to the conference room. "You go and rest Natasha, we'll give you any updates as needed." Yelena instructs me but I shake my head. "I want to know how this has all happened, especially if it's got something to do with Y/n." I reply, continuing on my journey with the others. I hear Yelena mumble something under her breath and she doesn't look too happy, but ultimately doesn't stop me.

I take my usual seat in the conference room, and I realise that the others are in a state of shock. They are all staring at me as if I'm going to disappear at any moment. "Where's Steve and Tony?" I ask, noticing two very empty spaces in the room. They take the time to talk me through what happened after they returned with all the stones. Knowing that Tony sacrificed himself for the greater good brought a tear to my eye. But I'm grateful that Steve was able to get his second chance with Peggy.

Now we come on to the more difficult conversation of how I happen to be back on earth, very much alive. "Bucky and I went to check on Y/n but she didn't answer. FRIDAY notified us she had left the compound but that she had blocked her location. With the door unlocked we went in and that's when we found that note." Clint explains as Fury nods along. "That would work with the timeline of the quinjet going missing. She obviously waited for you all to be out of the compound so she could do what she needed uninterrupted." Fury responds.

"What note?" I jump in, still confused about what is going on. Did Y/n really steal a quinjet? Why would she do that? Fury moved his hand into his inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a note before handing it to me. I open it up and I feel both Wanda and Yelena peer over my shoulder.

Maybe this time I can make things right. I'll make sure it was me. Take care of Nat.

I look up from the note to the others. Wanda is full on crying when she sees the words on the paper. Yelena won't make eye contact whilst both Bucky, Clint and Sam look like they're grieving. "What does this mean? What does she mean by making sure it was her." I question, wanting to get some semblance of what is going on. This looks like a suicide note.

I start to get frustrated when no one answers me. In fact, they all make the effort to not meet my eyes. "Someone tell me!" I shout, banging my hand to the table making them flinch. "Yelena?" Clint speaks, raising an eyebrow at her. I turn to face my sister who looks as white as a ghost. "Lena, what is going on?" I ask calmly, but again she doesn't respond.

"Her and Wanda have spent the last three months telling Y/n that it should have been her and not you. I guess she finally found a way to make that true" Bucky finally breaks the silence and my heart with it. "What?" I gasp, turning to look between the two of them. "Did you really say that to her?" I ask, shocked that Yelena could do something so horrible to Y/n. They've always been so close.

When both of them fail to respond, I stand up ready to leave. I can't believe this. "Natasha wait." Fury tries to stop me. "No! From what I can work out, these two pushed Y/n so far that she has killed herself to bring me back. That's what you're telling me without actually telling me isn't it." I snap, tears filling my eyes. "We don't know exactly what happened." Fury responds but I just scoff. "She stole a quinjet and flew to Vormir. You found me and Y/n was nowhere to be seen. I think we all know what happened." I retort.

Quickly turning to face Yelena and Wanda, I feel my anger build. "I'm so angry at you. It was my choice! I decided it had to be me. I had my chance at living and making things right. Y/n still had so much of her life ahead of her. She was in there longer than us Yelena. She had you, Wanda and she was happy. I couldn't take that away from her or you! I made the decision to jump because I thought that if it was Y/n, you'd be left without a girlfriend and you your favourite sister." I yell, jabbing my finger in the direction of Wanda and Yelena.

"Fuck! It was my choice! It was meant to be me. But now I hear that she's spent the last three months without anyone whilst she went through grief, being told it was her fault and she should have died. Her last three months were probably miserable, and you can't change that. She's gone. Y/n is dead. Do you realise that? She's not going to magically rematerialize. And it's all your fault!" I rant, anger and an overwhelming sadness taking over me.

At my words, I see the realisation hit Yelena and Wanda. Tears start to fall down their cheeks. "I jumped so she could have the life you promised me she would have. A life where she would be loved and protected. A life where you would never hurt her. But it couldn't be any further from the truth!" I spit at Wanda, venom lacing my tone.

"And you. How can you even treat our sister like that. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to forgive you." I turn to Yelena, my heart aching knowing I've lost two sisters today. Not allowing them time to respond, I storm off to what used to be my room. Ignoring the calls from behind me.

When I reach the accommodation floor, I find myself stuck outside Y/n's door. My hand hovering over the handle. There is a part of me that is wishing this is some sick joke and I'll open this door to see her sat on her bed, drawing, or listening to music. That she'll actually be alive, and I won't have to face living in this world without my sister. The sister that gave me my humanity.

Slowly I push the door open, and I instantly get enveloped by her scent. Tears once again prickle at my eyes when I see the cold room is empty. Wanting to feel closer to her, I move further into the room and towards her desk where I spot a USB sat on an otherwise spotless desk.

Pulling her desk chair out, I sit and turn on her laptop. Letting out a teary laugh when I see the photo of her, Yelena, and I when we were drunk on a night out. We look the happiest we've ever been. It was one of the first times we'd been able to just forget about life all together and this photo represented that. I reach out and rest my fingers over her face. "Oh, moya malen'kaya sestra. (My little sister) I'm sorry I failed you." I cry as the thought of not seeing her again hits me.

Composing myself, I plug in the USB and open it to see there is only one file on it. A video file entitled "For Natasha." Hesitantly, I click on the file and let out a sob when I see Y/n's face appear on the screen. Straight away I notice that she's barely slept and there is a pain in her eyes I have not seen since we saved her from the red room.

Video message

Hey Nat. I really hope that you are watching this. If you are, it means that I finally did something right and managed to rectify the mistake that I made that day on Vormir. I never should have let you jump.

You see, the thing is about you Natasha, is you don't see your worth. You believe the trauma that you went through as a child is something that you must atone for, for the rest of your life. Despite telling Yelena, me and countless other widows how our actions were not our fault, you failed to allow yourself the same courtesy.

Since joining Shield and then the Avengers, you have done far more good than you ever did bad. Not that you had anything to make up for in life. You had every right to live a normal life, to try and move on from the horrors of your past. But instead, you set your mind to saving others who couldn't save themselves.

Don't tell the others, but you were the true hero of the Avengers. Your intentions were the purest. You were not blinded by money, fame, or righteousness. You were doing everything you could to try and drive out evil from this world. To stop others having to experience a pain like you did.

It's why I decided to jump. Why it should have been me that made that sacrifice. You had already given enough. It was your time to live your life in peace. If you had chosen to carry on your life as an Avenger, then so be it. But it would have been your choice.

The world needs Natasha Romanoff. Yelena, Clint, Shield, hell even my girlfriend, needed you more than me. It's why you never should have given your life that day. It's why I was the logical choice. The only choice.

Yes, hearing that being reiterated by people I love has been hard to hear these last few months. But it's the truth. It's why I tried so hard to find away that I could rectify that mistake and make the world right again. I think I finally have that answer now. A way that I might be able to bring you back. I pray that this works and maybe Yelena and Wanda can stop hating me. Not that I'll know, I guess.

I know that everyone will be able to move one without me in their lives. But you, well we know the world deserves and needs Natasha Romanoff. I just hope that I'm able to give it to them.

If you are sat watching this Nat. Please know how much I love you. You are the reason that I experienced freedom and free will for the first time. You gave me a family, a chance at love. All things that I thought I would never experience. You saved me in more ways than one and I will always be eternally grateful for that.

Being able to call you my sister has been the greatest honour Nat. I love you with everything I have, and I hope that one day, we may see each other again. In a life where there are no expectations of us. A life where we're free to live as we want. But before that time, live your life to the fullest. Enjoy it and have a vodka for me. Ya tebya lyublyu, moya sestra. Do svidaniya. (I love you, my sister. Goodbye.)

I feel the sobs wrack over me as the screen goes black. I feel grief wash over me in waves. It physically hurts to know that she sacrificed herself for me. For her to believe that this world needs me more than it needed her. She is a light that shone brighter than anyone I had ever met. But now that light is extinguished.

With my grief overwhelming me, I feel the sudden need to leave her room. Being surrounded by her things, knowing she'll never be here again is just adding to the pain. As I stand and turn around, I spot Wanda and Yelena crying in the doorway, clearly having overheard the video.

"Natash..." "Don't." I hold my hand up to stop Wanda straight away. "She needed you. Both of you. But you were selfish and put your own grief above hers. You could have supported each other. Grieved together, moved on together and had a life together. But instead, everything is ruined." I express, pain lacing my voice.

"Natasha please." Yelena practically begs, reaching out to take my hand but I'm quick to snatch it away. "No. As far as I'm concerned, I lost two sisters today." I state before barging past them both and to my own room. Quickly locking the door behind me.

I fall onto the bed, the whole day becoming overwhelming. I don't know where to go from here. How do I live a life that doesn't have her in it. How am I supposed to live like she told me to, when I can't share it with her. I feel at a complete loss. Of all the things I have sacrificed, my own life included, this was one I was too selfish to give. But have ended up losing anyway.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #romanoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader

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amiableness · 1 year

Text

Wishful Thinking

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: jj gets tipsy and rambles about his feelings for y/n, leading their friends to decide to play matchmakers.

wc: 6.0k

warnings: pet names (baby), mild language, and allusions to smut at the end

a/n 💌: hi! i have posted wishful thinking before but i decided just to combine it all into one fic and finish it. this is my experiment to see if i wanna come back to writing or not!

“Y’wanna know something?” JJ Maybank’s voice was giggly as he leaned in to whisper to his best friend next to him. It was quiet between the group of friends besides the crackling of the fire in the center of the group and John B’s speaker playing music in the background. Pope raised his eyebrows as he eyed JJ, who had been attempting to whisper, but instead caught the attention of all his friends.

“What?” He asked finishing off the rest of his drink and glancing over at John B who was chuckling at how out of it JJ was.

“Really miss her, man. Miss her pretty laugh.” Pope’s surprised gaze shot back over to JJ. He wasn’t seeing anyone, so he wasn’t sure exactly who he could be talking about. But when he watched as JJ’s glaze slide over to where Y/n usually sat, he understood.

“She’s only been gone an hour, JJ.” Kiera cut in, understanding right away who the blonde had been talking about. Kiera had always known about JJ’s feelings for her, even if he had refused to admit them until now. For years, JJ had been pining over Y/n. She wasn’t sure how the others had’t picked up on it. From the countless times that JJ had tied up her hair while she covered her shoulders with sunscreen, made sure she always her favorite mango soda stocked in the fridge, and cleaned up her cuts and scrapes as he taught her how to skateboard. It was pretty obvious that JJ was head over heels for Y/n.

“Feels like torture, Kie. Getting to see her everyday and not being able to kiss her.” Sarah’s mouth dropped open in surprise as she whipped her head around to make she everyone had just heard what she did. JJ talking about his feelings was rare, so hearing him clue in the other’s to his feelings about her was surprising.

“Oh shit, he’s so out of it.” John B barked out a laughed while leaning forward, hoping to catch more of JJ’s words.

“JB, you get it man! Loving her s’much that your heart just hurts without her.” John B had an amused expression painted on his face as he glanced at his friends.

“Does Y/n know your heart hurts without her?” Sarah slapped John B’s shoulder because she knew he was teasing with his choice of words, even if JJ wasn’t in the state to pick up on it.

“Y’fucking kiddin’? She doesn’t deserve that.”

“JJ, don’t say that.” Kiera scolded as she watched her best friend helplessly shrug back at her. The tipsy giggles had been replaced by a serious look on his face as he stared into the fire. Y/n had been on his mind constantly. Ever since he had met her really, but now more than ever. Before he had thought it was just a hopeless crush, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“She deserves flowers, those lilies she always points out when we walk by the market on 7th. Someone to walk her back from the Club because you just know those rich old fucks are gonna try and flirt with her every chance they get. Someone who tells her that she’s the prettiest girl they have ever seen in their life, because it’s fucking true. Someone who can make her the happiest girl in the word, because she deserves that. Y’know?”

His words shocked his friends into silence, all wearing looks of surprise. To some degree, they all knew that JJ had some type of feelings for their other best friend. Just none of them had realized just how deep his feelings ran. No one had said anything, so JJ shrugged and tossed his beer back before heading inside. Leaving his friends to process what he had just said.

“We need to help JJ get the girl.” John B spoke up, getting a chorus of agreement back.

The door flung open, startling her friends as Y/n cheerfully let herself into the Chateau. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen talking amongst themselves. The boys were in charge of cooking the burgers, while Sarah and Kiera stood next to each other chopping veggies and fruits.

It was Sunday, meaning all six of them got together for lunch. It had become a tradition over the years for them to meet every Sunday and spend time together. Y/n was in her favorite jeans shorts and the navy blue sweatshirt she had stolen from JJ months ago. He never complained. Her hair was tied up by a claw clip, and JJ swore that he swooned every time she wore it like that.

“Who owes me an explanation?” While her question sounded accusatory, she was bouncing on the heels on feet trying to hold back her grin.

“An explanation for what?” Pope questioned, glancing over his shoulder at a giggly Y/n.

“These.” She reached into her book bag to pull out a bouquet of lilies. Her eyes swept expectantly over all her friends, waiting for one of them to claim the flowers as their gift.

“Sorry sweetheart! None of us brought you flowers.” John B called out, glancing at everyone as there was a hum of agreement. The only one who didn’t say anything but JJ, who was simply staring at the bouquet in Y/n’s hands He felt sick starting at the flowers. Not just any flowers, but lilies. The same flowers he’s been trying to work up the courage to buy her for weeks. Ever since he watched her stare longingly at them in the market, he knew he wanted to get them for her. Who the hell got them for her?

“It could be a secret admirer!” Sarah called excitedly, dropping her knife and heading over to see the flowers in Y/n’s hands.

“A secret admirer? I highly doubt that.” Y/n hummed while staring down at the flowers. If it wasn’t her friends, who got them for her?

“Oh please, you’re hot and a total catch. I bet it’s a secret admirer.” Kiera called, nearly running into her best friend as they hugged each other in greeting. The girls erupted into giggles when Kiera nearly knocked her over, but Y/n managed to steady them. Y/n and Kiera had been friends well before they had met any of the others. Having met in kindergarten, they truly had never left each others’ sides.

“You think?” She asked, a hopeful smile brightening up her face. She couldn’t help but feel a swell of excitement in her chest at the idea of having a secret admirer. It was flattering, and Y/n had always been a hopeless romantic.

“Sounds like someone’s got a crush on our Y/n.” John B called out while pointing the spatula in her direction. Pope let out a huff and grabbed the spatula from John B who was too distracted by talking to remember the flip the burger patties.

“Maybe it’s not a secret admirer, maybe someone just gave them to you to be nice.” JJ shrugged, trying to fight the ever growing jealously in his chest as he watched her blush over the flowers.

“Yea, and what are the chances someone picked her favorite flowers?” Kiera questioned glancing over at JJ who sent her an irritated look

“It was just a thought.” He grumbled, sending one last glare at the bouquet gripped in Y/n’s hands as she carefully filled a vase for them oblivious to his stare.

Kiera and Pope sent each other small grins excited that their plan was being set into place.

It had been one whole week. One whole week of Y/n receiving a bouquet of flowers from the market everyday. While Y/n was practically glowing from excitement, JJ had never been in a mood this bad.

“What flower do we think it is today?” JJ grumbled kicking at the dirt in front of him. With his eyes glued to the ground, he missed the looks his friends exchanged. Just the night before, the four of them had been wondering if it was time to fess up. But John B had insisted they kept going.

“We know how much he loves her, we can’t say anything!” John B protested, leaning against the couch as he adamantly tried to convince his friends to keep their little secret to themselves.

“What does that have to do with anything? JJ has watched Y/n get flowers all week and said nothing to her. The goal was to get him to confess his feelings, and it isn’t working.” Kiera sighed while glancing over at the freshly bought flowers sitting on the table, waiting to be delivered to Y/n. She felt guilt swirl in her stomach, this was her best friend she way lying to, even if the end goal was for her to be happy. The past week Y/n had been gushing to her about who the mystery guy could be, and when she asked her opinion on the matter, Kiera nearly pulled out the receipts and showed Y/n just who her admirer was.

“He just needs a little bit more convincing,” John B shot back running a palm down his face.“Come on, Kie.”

“Are we even sure that Y/n feels the same way about him?” Pope spoke up, breaking the stare off between John B and Kiera. All eyes turned to Kiera, who knew all of Y/n’s secrets.

“No, I’m not spilling her secrets.” She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers tightening around the friendship bracelets they both wore.

“Don’t spill her secrets then. It’s simple, does JJ have any sort of shot with Y/n?” Pope questioned, glancing over at Kiera who was nibbling at her lip.

“Yes.” She admitted, prompting John B to high five Sarah.

“So we keep playing the secret admirer? Amp it up a little until JJ acts on his feelings?” Sarah asked, sending a hopeful smile over to Kiera.

“Fine, but as soon as JJ breaks it off were admitting to what we did.” She huffed while the rest cheered.

“Who knows, she’s gotten every flower imaginable at this point.” John B shrugged, knowing that Sarah and Kiera had been the ones who insisted on getting the prettiest bouquets every time they went. JJ’s frown deepened at John B’s response.

“It’s just stupid, y’know? If this guy likes her so much why doesn’t he just say something?”

“Great point, now take your own advice.” Sarah called out making JJ falter. The tips of his ears turned red and he let out a scoff.

“That’s different.” JJ shook his head.

“Please, enlighten us.” Pope snorted while grabbing another drink. It was around noon and they were waiting for Y/n to show up after her shift so they could all go swimming. Lately she had been spending most of her time at work, but it seemed to work out for the pogues, since they were able to deliver the flowers to her house secretly this way.

“You already know-”

“Hi! I’m sorry I’m so late!” JJ spun around in his chair to see his favorite girl walking towards them with her bikini already on and her favorite bag slung over her shoulder like always. He could see the new bouquet of flowers peeking out of her bag, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes at them.

Instead of showing off the flowers like she usually had, Y/n tossed her bag onto the cooler besides her without a comment about them. Her friends shared a surprised look, expecting her to show them off and fawn over them.

“Scoot over.” She called to JJ as she climbed up into the hammock with him, easily slotting herself into his side. JJ felt himself relax at the feeling of her pressed against him, and he tossed his arm over her shoulder.

“Anyone ready to swim? I need a break.” Y/n smiled halfheartedly, puzzling her friends at her sudden change in mood.

Y/n was frustrated. A whole week of flowers and no one had fessed up to who was delivering her the beautiful arrangements everyday. As each passing day went by, she found herself becoming slightly bugged by the flowers. Not by the sweet gesture, but by the mystery of them. Why was there no cards left? Or any hints at who her admirer could be?

Each morning before work the flowers could be found tucked against the doorframe, waiting for Y/n to find them. Today marked exactly one week that the flowers had started being delivered, and unlike every other time, Y/n didn’t check for a card. In fact, she had left the flowers on the porch until she came home from work. On her way out she simply picked up the bouquet and put it in her bag, knowing she was already late to meeting her friends.

“Any ideas on who your secret admirer is?” Sarah teased while bumping her left shoulder against Y/n’s. The three girls were sat on the boat next to each other with Sarah in the middle. The boys had been in the water for the past twenty minutes, currently seeing who could hold their breath the longest. Pope had won the last two rounds and JJ was pissed, determined to beat him.

“No, and I’ve gone over my name list about twenty times. It’s starting to drive me crazy.” Y/n sighed while sipping at her pink straw that poked out of her mango soda that JJ had brought her. She missed the look shared between her two best friends, too busy gazing out at the water.

“List your ideas.” Kiera called out as she stood up to grab the cans the boys had left behind and toss them into a bag she brought with her for this very reason. She flopped down on the seat across from her two friends once she was done, eyeing Y/n somber expression.

“Well, Malakai Cost could be an option. Remember him? We ‘dated’ in freshman year.” She used her fingers to air quote as she said the word dated with a slight laugh.

“I hardly call that dating, babe.” Kiera laughed remembering the memory of the curly haired boy who Y/n lost her virginity to. He was sweet, but Kiera could tell that her best friend didn’t have that strong of feelings for him. That was obvious by the way ‘the relationship’ was cut short when the pair had realized they would rather have sex with other people.

“Okay, uh, option two is Porter from work. Option three is -”

“Pervy Porter? God, I hope not.” Sarah cries out, cringing at the thought of the 26 year old who worked at the club and was consistently hitting on high school aged girls.

“Option three: Cal. He’s been flirting with me the past couple weeks, and it’s an option I don’t honestly hate.” Y/n explained, while holding up her three fingers still as she mulled over her list.

“Cal from English? He’s cute.” Sarah agreed, nodding along. Although she did not like the idea nearly as much as Y/n and JJ being together.

“And option four.” Y/n let out a soft sigh and leaned back on her hands.

“Who is option four?” Kiera asked, leaning forward towards her best friend when she noticed she wasn’t openly supplying information.

“I don’t really think this is an option, but more like a hope.” Y/n said, bitting at her lower lip as she glanced over at the boys to make sure they were still busy.

“Well who is it?” Sarah asked, scooting closer to Y/n as she three friends then made a little circle on the floor of the boat.

“JJ.” Y/n shyly whispered with her eyes downcast as she twirled her straw in her soda. Kiera and Sarah sent each other wide eyed looking, trying to contain their excitement.

“You want it to be JJ?” Sarah asked, using both hands to cover her mouth as she practically bounced on her butt.

“I mean, I’ve always had a thing for JJ. How could I not? Plus, he’s the only one who knows how bad I had wanted lilies from the market and those are what I got! But, fuck, when I saw the look on his face when I brought them over, I knew it wasn’t him.”

“He was probably just mad somebody did it before he could.” Sarah supplied, as Y/n looked up at her blonde friend with a hopeful look in her eye.

“I mean maybe, but realistically JJ has shown no interest in me. So why would it be him?” Y/n shrugged trying to keep her hopes from soaring.

“Are you serious?” Kiera nearly shrieked. She glanced over her shoulder at the splashing boys before turning back to her best friend.

“Y/n, look at your drink. You have a mango soda that was chilled, unlike the rest of our drinks, and your favorite pink straw. And who made up your drink for you?” Y/n glanced down at her drink, her heart swelling at the simple things JJ constantly did for her the left her feeling warm and special.

JJ had always been the person who made her feel safe. Kiera would forever be her best friend, but if Y/n ever needed saving JJ was the person that she instantly went to. She couldn’t help it, there was something about him that made her feel cared for, and she loved that feeling more than anything.

“He insisted you stayed at the Chateau until you got over your cold, remember? You two literally slept in his bed together while he took care of you. None of us went near you except for him.” Sarah explained, sipping at her drink.

“But it’s JJ, he doesn’t care about germs.”

“Really? Because when I had strep throat he told me if I got near him he would beat my ass.” Kiera deadpanned making her two friends laugh at the memory.

“All I’m getting from this is that he’s a sweet friend. There’s no way it could be him delivering the flowers.” Y/n shook her head, getting nervous that her hopes about JJ being her secret admirer were rising again.

“Okay, just forget the flowers. What if JJ told you that he had feelings for you? What would you do?” Kiera asked hoping to get a read on her friends feelings.

“Also, how the hell did we not know you were into JJ?” Sarah added on, to which Kiera raised her drink at, making Y/n blush.

“It’s always been at the back of my mind, and then I realized I keep hoping it’s him that is behind it. And about the feelings thing? If he likes me back I would hope that he does something about it, and soon.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Our Y/n’s got the hot’s for someone?” John B cried out, scaring the three girls.

“God, John B! We’re talking about Y/n’s man, you guys can’t just listen in like that.” Kiera whipped around, bending over the edge of the boat to wack him on the head. She glanced at JJ who was behind John B, but his face was blank.

“Y/n’s man, huh?” He tried to tease, but Kiera could see that he could hardly keep the smile on his face.

“I don’t have a man.” Y/n laughed, redness sweeping onto her cheeks. She hid behind her drink, embarrassed that the boys overheard their conversation. She was just hoping that JJ didn’t realize that they were talking about him.

“Her secret admirer. She’s waiting for him to make an actual move.” Y/n shot a warning look at Sarah who had elaborated for the boys.

“So you know who he is?” JJ asked, swimming closer to the boat as Y/n leaned over the edge to look down at him. They were so close together that JJ could feel the ends of her hair brushing against his face as he looked up at her.

“No, but I have my hopes.” Y/n shrugged her left shoulder, nervously bitting at her lip. Could it be JJ? Did he get that she was telling him to make his move?

His eyes dropped to her lips and he immediately felt the urge to reach up and bring her mouth to his, but he couldn’t. So instead he took one last look at the rosy lips he always fantasized about before glancing back up at her. They were both carefully studying each other.

“Any you wanna share with the class?” Pope teased, bringing JJ and Y/n out of their little moment. Y/n glanced away from JJ to look at Pope who was swimming behind him.

“No.” Y/n blushed. “I’m sure we’ll all find out soon enough anyways.”

“I think it’s Cal from English.” Y/n rushed out as she nearly tossed herself on the couch next to her two best friends. She knew she had limited time before the boys came into the Chateau and would be able to hear their gossip.

“Seriously?” Sarah questioned, tossing aside her phone to be able to put her full attention on Y/n. She glanced over at Kiara who had furrowed eyebrows and looked unsure.

“Why do you think it’s Cal?” She asked uncertainty, feeling the guilt well up in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she had kept a secret from Y/n. The two of them told each other everything, and it was killing her to lie to her face and pretend she had no clue who the flowers were coming from. How was she supposed to tell her that it was them this whole time? Would she understand them trying to get her and JJ together? Or would she understandably be upset?

“He remembered that my favorite flowers are lilies, and they were my first flowers I got.”

“You told Cal your favorite flowers?” Kiara asked a little concerned. She didn’t want Y/n thinking that someone else besides JJ could have been doing this for you. She didn’t think Cal from English would have memorized your favorite flowers just like JJ had.

“I guess, we chat a lot in AP English. Mrs. Donovan lets us have time to write for ten minutes at the end of class and we pass notes instead.”

“That’s cute.” Sarah smiled softly, but she wasn’t totally sure what else to say. “Do you think it’s Cal then? For sure?”

“I don’t really know, but I might find out tonight.” Y/n supplied while heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of mango soda. She smiled softly when she realized her stash had been restocked from the last time she had grabbed one.

“Why tonight?” Sarah asked shifting on the couch to watch her best friend curiously. Y/n took a long sip before sending them a nervous smile, like she was scared of what they were going to say.

“I agreed to go out with him.” There was brief pause of silence between the three best friends.

“Wait. But..I thought you wanted it to be JJ?” Kiara asked, lowering her voice as she heard the voices of the boys outside doing God knows what.

“I mean I do. I really fucking do. But it doesn’t seem like it’s him and I can’t sit around and wait for him forever. Besides, if Cal is the one leaving these flowers for me I wanna give him a chance. It could lead into something really nice y’know.” She shrugged simply.

Kiara stayed quiet, trying to piece together a plan to swing this in JJ’s favor. Cal was not actually supposed to be an option in this. The goal was to get JJ and Y/n together.

“So you’re not waiting for JJ anymore?” Sarah questioned. Y/n opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out.

“Honestly, I would wait for JJ forever if I could. But I know that won’t get me anywhere. I’m attracted to Cal and I think it could be something, so I’m gonna give it a chance.”

“Y/n, I-” Kiara was cut off by boys heading up to the door, she could hear them before she could see them.

“I’m gonna head out, I just wanted to let you guys know that I think I might be solving this mystery.” Y/n grabbed her bag and blew a kiss towards before heading towards the door. Right as she opened the door the boys came tumbling through. Y/n shouted out her goodbyes before heading out the door.

“Where is she going? Thought we were all gonna hangout here?” John B questioned confused, looking after Y/n’s retreating figure.

“She’s got a date.” Kiara mumbled, still wracking her brain to try and come up with an idea to fix this. John B mumbled a quiet ‘oh shit’ before looking towards JJ who looked dejected.

“Looks like she got what she wanted. She found the guy who has been giving her flowers.” JJ mumbled before heading to the fridge to grab a beer. There wasn’t much else he wanted to do right now besides drink or smoke.

“JJ, man. I’m sorry.” Pope let out, heading into the kitchen. The Pogues all watched quietly, as JJ rested his elbows on the counter and then dropped his head into his hands. He threaded his fingers between the strands before pulling on his slightly out of frustration. Why hadn’t he just told her how he felt? Would it have made a difference?

“It’s alright, not your fault, bro.” JJ mumbled and Pope nearly flinched. This was his fault, it was all of their faults. They shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place.

Pope was so focused on his guilt he hadn’t notice Kiara walk up and place something in front of JJ.

“Why the fuck are you giving me recipts? I don’t owe you for anything.” JJ grumbled, not in the mood for Kiara to bug him about paying her back for healthy food he didn’t even want in the first place.

“JJ, read them.” He glanced up to find Kiara nervously chewing on her bottom lip while the rest of their friends stood next to him. He let out a sigh before picking out a thick bundle of the slips of paper.

“You went to the market on 7th. Nice?”

“JJ, read what she fucking bought.” John B huffed getting fed up with his best friend. JJ’s eyebrows scrunched together as he read the receipt. He then began to shuffle through all of them before standing up fully and looking at Kiara.

“What the fuck? Have you been buying her flowers?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes, but JJ listen. We were hoping that it would push you to tell her how you feel and-“ JJ cut Kiara off by pointing at all of them.

“All of you were in on this shit?”

“We were trying to help.” Kiara rushed out, hoping to make amends but from the look on JJ’s face she knew that would not be happening soon.

“What? You thought I couldn’t do it myself?”

“Honestly JJ, no.” John B interrupted. “You two would be perfect together and you’re refusing to do anything about it!”

“That’s the fucking point! She’s way too good for me! She’s gonna go to college and do something with her life and I’ll be stuck here. What the fuck am I supposed to offer her? A life with a guy who is gonna go nowhere in life?”

“JJ-“ Pope tried to cut in but JJ shook his head before pointing at him.

“Honestly, I thought you would’ve had my back on this. You get how I feel.” Pope dropped his gaze, thinking about all the times he had vented about his feelings about Kiara to him.

“JJ, she’s on a date with a guy who she thinks is leaving her the flowers.” Sarah spoke up while JJ downed the rest of his beer.

“And? You guys found her a date, be proud of yourselves.”

“That wasn’t the point! The point was for you to take her on a date!” Sarah shot back, getting frustrated with him.

“That would only work if she felt the same.” JJ snapped back and John B rolled her eyes at his snippy attitude. He couldn’t stand when JJ got something stuck in his head and refused to listen to anyone else.

“Good fucking thing she does then.” Sarah snapped back and JJ froze. His eyes flickered to Kiara, the one person he really trusted to confirm your feelings right now. She gave a small nod.

“She’s liked you for years, J.” Kiara supplied.

“What?” He sounded breathless and Sarah felt a silver of hope run through her. They were getting him to listen now.

When she heard the knock at the door she took a deep breath before swinging open the door. There stood Cal, holding a bouquet of white lilies and sending her the sweetest smile. Cal gave her a soft greeting before handing over the stunning flowers.

“Hey. These are so sweet, you really didn’t have to get me more flowers.” She smiled softly before bringing the flowers up to her nose and breathing in the scent.

“Oh uh, I’ve only gotten you these flowers?” Cal had the most confused look on his face as he watched Y/n hold the flowers to her chest. Y/n faltered when she realized what she had slipped out. Her plan was to bring it up in later conversation, ask Cal if it was him instead of outright implying that it was him.”

“Oh. You haven’t been leaving me bouquets of flowers?” She bit her lip and glanced over at the other lilies sitting in the vase by the door. She felt her stomach sink as she realized she still didn’t know who was doing this for her.

“No? Did you want me to? Is this your way of asking me to bring you more flowers?” Her eyes darted back to Cal and she felt guilty for bringing her secret admirer up. That probably was not a line she should have opened up with on a first date.

“No! I just, I’ve been getting flowers everyday left on my porch for the last two weeks or so and I have no idea who it is.”

“That’s fucking expensive.” Cal let out a soft laugh, trying to break up some of the disappointment on Y/n’s face. “Listen, it seems like you’re not totally into this date so maybe it’s better if I just go.” Cal jabbed his thumb behind him pointing at his truck. He was starting to feel a little awkward about going on a date with a girl who had someone so clearly pining over her, he didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.

“No! Listen, I really have no idea who has been leaving these flowers. I’ve had my hopes and suspicions but-“

“Was I one of them? One of people you were hoping for?” Cal asked taking a step closer to her.

“You were.” Y/n confirmed looking up at him. She hadn’t realized how blue his eyes were and she couldn’t help but compare him to another boy with blue eyes she knew.

“And what about JJ Maybank?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Y/n asked completely thrown off by his question. Cal ran his hand through his hair and sent her a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I just had to ask. I’ve always thought he had a thing for you, which was what prevented me from asking you out in the first place.”

“He doesn’t, there’s no way. I-“

“Y/n!” Cal and Y/n turned to see JJ standing at the edge of driveway. His chest was heaving and she realized that he had ran here. Her breath hitched when she took in his red cut-off t-shirt and blonde locks that were tamed by his backwords hat. She felt her heart squeeze when she realized he was holding orange lilies. Not just her favorite flower, but her favorite color.

“Y/n, baby. I need to talk to you.”

“Seems like he does after all. I’ll see you around, Y/n.” Cal squeezed her arm and gave her a sweet smile before heading towards his car. She heard him greet JJ and watched in disbelief as he headed out.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n finally asked as JJ walked up to her.

“I needed to talk to you.”

“You said that. It couldn’t after waited until after my date?”

“To be fair, you don’t have a date anymore.”

“JJ.” Y/n sighed before sending him a deadpan look. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“It’s not Cal bringing you glowers.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“He told me.”

“Well. It wasn’t me either.” Y/n felt her heart sink and she looked away from JJ to prevent him from seeing the disappointed look that crossed her face. She was too late. He saw it.

“Where are you going with this?”

“Can we talk about this inside?” Y/n turned around to open the door and let JJ inside. No one was home, her mom was working a late shift at the hospital and her older sister was staying the night with her boyfriend.

JJ followed behind her as she lead him up to her room, taking the time to appreciate her dress. His mood soured when he remembered she had worn this for another guy. When they reached her room she sat down on her bed and patted the spot next to her.

JJ had been in her room plenty of times, but this time felt different and it was making him incredibly nervous. He set the lilies on her bedside and glanced over at the picture of the two of them she had framed on her bedside. She was sat in his lap with a big smile holding her drink in the air while JJ had his arms around her waist and was smiling at the camera. He still couldn’t believe he was the one she chose to have on her nightstand, maybe their friends were really right about her liking him.

“I wasn’t the one buying you those flowers the whole time.”

“You said that.”

“It was our friends.”

“I’m sorry?” Their friends had been behind this the whole time? She couldn’t even bring herself to be mad when JJ was looking at her like she was the only girl in his world.

“I got drunk and spilled my feelings about you, they were trying to get me to confess my feeling to you.” JJ’s voice was nearly a whisper. He was scared if he spoke too loud he would scare her away.

“Your feelings for me?” Y/n’s voice sounded shaky and she wanted to kick herself for giving away how she was feeling way too easily. She shifted so she was fully facing him, in turn moving their faces even closer. JJ’s head was turned towards her, taking in the hopeful look in her eye.

“Y/n. I can’t stand the thought of you going on a date with another guy. I know I wasn’t the one to give you flowers, and I’m sorry because I should have. You deserve that.”

“I don’t care about the flowers, J.’

“You don’t?”

“No, if this means you’re telling me that you like me.”

“Baby, this is me telling you that I love you.” Y/n surged forward and pressed her lips against his. JJ let out a surprised moan but was quick to recover and pull Y/n into his lap and bringing his hand to the back of her head to kiss her harder.

“I love you, JJ. I have for so long.” She pulled away quickly to whisper to him before shoving him back and crawling on top of him.

#outer banks jj #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj x you #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank #outer banks one shot #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x you #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank smut #outer banks blurb

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heaven4lostgirls · 14 days

Text

Best Friend (R.C)

pairing: rafe cameron x reader, possibly jj maybank x reader

warning: hurt/comfort i believe? i'm not sure. rafe's an ass but also psycho but what else is new. JJ is a cutie and we love him. mentions of unrequited feelings and jealousy.

summary: being rafe's best friend used to be one of the best things in life, until it wasnt. now its time for you to make your own choices and rafe isnt too happy about that.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: as i said, my motivation is back so say hello to a new story!, not sure if i'll continue this but if you want another part, i'll be open to trying to write another piece.

Rafe and you had been friends since before you could even know what the word meant. Y/N and Rafe, Rafe, and Y/N, never one without the other, a package deal since the day you could remember. It was beautiful, truly. Having someone you could trust unconditionally; sure, you had your family and other close friends but none of them ever knew you as well as Rafe did. His ability to see not just you, but your soul was something you couldn’t imagine finding with someone else.

Which is why for the last 5 years, you’ve spent quietly trying to kill the crush you’d developed on your best friend. Every piece of attention he had ever given you, every small touch and sweet gesture just nurtured your heart faster than any of his sexual conquests and questionable habits could ever break it. You followed his figure through the party he had thrown at house, the smell of drugs, alcohol and sweaty bodies all mushed together to create the distinct atmosphere of a typical Rafe Cameron rager.

He was known for these parties; you both were actually. You and Rafe were unanimously dubbed the prince and princess of the OBX. You were once fond of that title but as time passed and you watched from the sidelines as a new girl sat of Rafe’s lap as you were left behind to do your own thing, it became a harder pill to swallow. Currently, he had his arm wrapped around a beautiful brunette who looked nothing like you, which seemed to be a recurring theme.

You watched as he sat down on one of the couches on the balcony near his friends and pulled the girl into his lap, your eyes stung but you knew better than to let your emotions get the better of you. Now was not the time to lose your cool, someone could see, and the news would spread fast to Rafe and with his inebriated state from who knows what, you weren’t willing to take the chances he was going to act in a sane way.

So, you blinked harshly, refilled your cup with your drink of choice and went back to the party, aiming to ignore Rafe and his company for the most part until he eventually got bored and came looking for you. Fortunately for you, you spot Kiara and the rest of the Pogue’s outside near the fire pit. It’s usually very rare to see any of them at one of these parties, more so because of Sarah’s strained relationship with her brother.

It’s comforting to meet their warm and happy gazes, you haven’t been able to spend much time with them because Rafe had monopolised most of it, he also didn’t particularly enjoy you choosing to spend your time with someone else other than him. Fortunately for you, parties like these lets you branch out and speak to new people without having to worry about Rafe breathing down your neck.

“Hey Y/N!” John B calls out and the rest of the group turns with excited and warm looks on their faces, the calm that washes over your body is immediate and you walk over to them to say hi. “Hey” you mutter shy as the girls get up to hug you as you sit in-between JJ and Sarah. “Haven’t seen you much around the island recently, you doing, okay?” Kiara asks curiously and you chew on your lip as you wonder what to tell her.

“No yeah I’m good, it’s just…Rafe you know?” you say, somewhat embarrassed that you don’t have a better excuse for the group. As you look down to your lap, you miss the look of sympathy that Kiara and Sarah share, they know just how bad it is to be caught up with Rafe. “Hey, are you busy tomorrow?” Sarah pipes in and you look at her in surprise, this is the first time someone’s ever invited you to hang out.

“No?” you say confused and Sarah looks at the group before breaking out in a big smile before mentioning, “We’re all going to the beach tomorrow, it’s supposed to be a really good surf day” she says as she looks at you expectantly. “We’d love if you could join us” Kiara adds and the smile that lights up is almost blinding. “That sounds great! I’m not too good at surfing but I’d still like to come if you’ll have me” you say a little embarrassed and the rest of the group just voices their agreement before Pope breaks the chatter.

“John B’s teaching Sarah tomorrow how to get the bigger waves and I’ll be helping Kie fish, but JJ’s free if you want some help” he offers and the man in question looks surprised at the suggestion. You’re shocked but you look at JJ with a small smile and shrug of your shoulders. “Yeah, no worries, I don’t know how good of a teacher I’ll be, but I can try” he says, and you nod excitedly.

The night moves on swiftly with friendly chatter between 6 of you. You surprisingly don’t feel excluded when they start sharing all their memories together, you’re happy to sit back and listen and before you know it, the party starts dying down and people start either dozing off right where they are or leaving to get home. You try to find Rafe but one sympathetic look from Topper lets you know that he’s in his room…not alone.

With no ride home and Topper wasted, you have no way home. You’re about to start walking but you see the lights of a run-down van come to a stop across the street before the door opens and JJ’s voice carries through the night. “C’mon! John B’s our DD tonight, you can get a lift bunk with us for the night.” He offers and you gladly accept, you all make your way back to the chalet and as everyone gets to their designated sleeping areas, there’s no space for you on any of the couches.

Pope offers you his space so he can sleep on the floor, but you decline, letting him know its okay. You settle in on the cold floor and try to readjust to get a comfortable spot before you feel someone shaking your arm. You open your eyes and blink slightly to see JJ’s ruffled hair and outstretched hand, you look at him confusedly but nonetheless comply. He pulls you up and navigates the chalet like second nature, “You can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the floor.” He whispers and you shake your head vehemently.

“No, I’m not taking your bed, you sleep there. I was fine on the floor” you argue, and he rolls his eyes as he pulls you into the room. “I could hear your shuffling through the door, just sleep in the bed y/n.” he says amused, your lips twitch into a smile as you look at him in the eyes. “No.” you say, and his eyes roll again as he huffs and moves to the bed to lie down on one side.

Before you can leave you see him pat the space next to him. “You coming or what?” he mumbles sleepily. You hesitate for a second before you realise that it’s better than sleeping on the floor. You get in on the other side of the bed and place the blanket over the bottom half of your body. As you doze off, you’re mildly aware of someone pulling you closer to their chest and soft breathing against your neck.

You wake up to your phone buzzing, as you pick it up you notice almost a dozen missed calls from Rafe and over fifty texts ranging from asking where you are to confusion that you’re not at his place or your own, to anger that you’re not answering him. Your heads still pounding from the alcohol last night so all you do is send him and your parents a text saying your safe and you’re spending the day with some friends at the beach.

JJ groans from behind you and you’re suddenly aware of his arm wrapped around your waist and his legs tangled with yours. “Why’re you up so early” he mumbles into your neck, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “Sorry, my phone woke me up” you mumble sheepishly. “Then put it off and let’s go back to sleep” he groans as he tightens his arms around you which makes your face heat.

Just as you turn your phone off and place it on the side table, the door opens and John B’s voice floats through the room. “JJ, get up we’re leaving in 10-” he stops midway through as he catches you and JJ together, you go to tell him what happened, but he just shakes his head and smiles. “I’ll see you both up and ready in 10 minutes, Y/N, Sarah left you a spare bikini in the bathroom if you need it.” He says cheerfully as he closes the door before you can finish saying thanks.

JJ groans and throws his arm over his eyes before he smirks and lets out a huff of laughter which sends you both into fits of laughter. After you all get ready and are on your way to the beach, you and JJ spend your time talking and catching up with one another, being around the same age you both knew of each other but had never been particularly close. You come to loathe that as you find out just how funny and caring JJ is as a person.

When you reach the beach, you see that JJ had packed a spare board for you. Your heart warms at the gesture as he carries both to the water. The waves aren’t particularly high right now so as you both paddle in, you’re comfortable enough to ride a few of the smaller ones. As they get higher, you let JJ catch a few before he comes back to help you. You spend around an hour letting JJ manoeuvre you to get a good position on the board and working on your technique. It takes a couple tries of you falling off the board and trusting JJ to catch you before you’re even comfortable with trying one of the waves.

Unbeknownst to you, Rafe had been stressing the fuck out after waking up without you this morning. He had spent the better part of an hour trying to find you, you weren’t at his, nor at your parents. He’d only gotten it out of topper that he saw you leaving in a car after the party ended so safe to assume he was losing his shit. Where the fuck had you possibly have gone? Who could you have gone with? You didn’t have any friends other than him, and he knows that none of the guys at the party would have tried to sleep with you when they knew you inadvertently belonged to him.

Mind you, when you finally bothered to answer his dozen calls and texts, all you had sent was “I’m okay don’t worry, I’m spending the day at the beach with some friends, I’ll see you tomorrow!” like hell you would. Who did you think he was? He was not going to let you just flounce around anywhere when there were people that could hurt you. Also, these “friends” you spoke about just about made him angry enough to fuel the urge to kill someone. Who could you possibly be talking about? All the people you two spent your time with were either at home still or at his place which he knew could only mean you were at the beach with those dirty fucking pogues.

You were gonna do Rafe’s head in, running off from him and the party to hang out with them? He scoffed at the thought. They didn’t know you like he knew you. They wouldn’t treat you as well as he did. Thinking about that dick John B that had roped his stupid fucking sister into their plans made his blood boil at the thought that they could be doing the same to you. The thought only made him speed faster to the beach.

Once he got there, oh was his blood definitely boiling. Fucking JJ. With his scummy little hands all over your body, in one of the tiniest swimsuits he’d ever seen you in. God, you looked beautiful. It was hard to dwell on that fact when all he could see was you laughing and splashing around with JJ whilst he stood on the beach glaring daggers at the blonde boy’s figure.

“Y/N!” he bellowed across the beach, and he gloated in the horror that washed over your face as you turned to look at the beach with JJ’s stupid fucking arms still wrapped around your waist. You try to smile and wave at him, but his anger must show on his face as you drop your hand and look at him in confusion. “Come here!” he yells again and watches as you turn to JJ to ask a question, the blonde idiot in question just shrugs and smiles up at you.

He watches as you take a deep breath before you turn to him and shake your head whilst yelling a “NO” across the beach. His jaw clenches at your statement as he continues glaring. “I’m not playing around Y/N. COME. HERE.” He yells again and watches as JJ tells you something softly that you laugh at before you turn to him deviously before yelling out, “Fuck off Rafe” with a big smile on your face.

He inhales sharply as his gaze hardens on the both of you. Fine. You wanna be like that? Okay. He’s not letting you get off that easy. He smirks at the thought as he stalks off to his car to drive off. He’ll wait you out if he has to, and when you do come out. You’lll regret ever using that tone with him.

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celtic-crossbow · 7 months

Text

Let’s Get Lost Chasing Stars

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria/Commonwealth Era

Warnings: None

Summary: You could watch him sleep forever.

You stretched, unfolding from your cocoon of blankets as your limbs eased away from your body. Your feet came into contact with something soft. That something gave a huff of annoyance and jumped off the bed, the telltale click of claws tapping against the floorboards before you heard the heavy thud of a body collapsing onto the rug.

If Dog was there, that meant—

You flipped onto your side, finding your archer somehow still sound asleep. It was still nighttime, you reminded yourself. Though he must have come back from the run late, he had showered. His hair was still damp and you were pretty sure that the nakedness you could see all the way down to where the sheets pooled around his hips didn’t stop there.

You quickly but reluctantly reined in the desire that was warming the apex of your thighs. Down, girl! There’d be plenty of time for that once he had several hours of well deserved rest. For the time being, seeing him sprawled out on the bed the two of you shared, without pain or worry constantly etched onto his face.

You crept closer, knowing that Daryl was a light sleeper and the tiniest of sounds or movements could rouse him in most cases. You simply wanted to watch him, be present during a peaceful instance. They were so few in this dystopian world.

He was lying on his back, one arm across his abdomen while the other was down against his side. You were lucky enough that his face was turned toward you. You laid back down on your pillow, your hands up under your cheek. He didn’t look real. The way the moonlight cast shadows in just the right places made him look like a painting.

There were the softest movements of his eyes beneath closed lids; he was dreaming. There were no whimpers. No twitches or creases of his brow. It wasn’t a nightmare. You were thankful for that. Daryl had lived enough nightmares for two lifetimes.

His lips were parted the slightest bit, making it near impossible to resist kissing them. You did though. You wouldn’t risk waking him. So you lifted your gaze to the scarring near his left eye. He had never told anyone else how he got it, but you knew. He told you everything.

You felt butterflies flittering about in your stomach. He always managed to make you feel that way without even trying. He was sound asleep and still pulled it off somehow.

You moved on to his chest. You could still see the toned muscle even if age had softened him the slightest bit. It was the same with his abdomen. You supposed that’s what being a provider and protector in the apocalypse could do to a body. That spurred your thoughts in a darker direction: his scars.

You could see the outlines of raised mars against the smooth surface of his skin. The end of the world wasn’t responsible for so many of his hurts but you could thank it for several. Many of them were ones you had been there to care for and assist in healing. Below the surface, his back and knees always ached. He’d never complain but you would see the winces and the pinched expressions.

You closed your eyes tightly, willing away the tears that threatened. You couldn’t stand the thought of him being in pain of any nature. There was a deep breath from beside you, your first thought that you had woken him. He turned toward you, on his side, but remained blissfully unaware. His hair had fallen across his face, tempting you to brush it away before it had a chance to tickle his nose. You were careful, movements slow and deliberate. Your task was complete and you had still managed to not awaken him.

The silver band on your ring finger lit up with moonlight as you drew back your hand and you smiled. All those years ago, at the quarry, if any of them had said you would marry the foul-mouthed, hot-tempered archer, you would have pulled a muscle laughing. If they had said you’d be here, in this moment, with your two children sleeping soundly in their own rooms down the hall, you would have accused them of madness.

A boy, with your smile and Daryl’s eyes, shy but clever.

A girl, the spitting image of her father but with two helpings of your personality.

Add in the dog with more attitude than any of you and you had your perfect little family.

It was those thoughts that urged you closer to him, gently grasping his tattooed hand to place it over your hip so you could press yourself into his warmth. He stirred, raising his head so you could position yours just underneath his chin.

“Can’t sleep?” He mumbled in a sleep-addled rasp. You hummed and snuggled closer. You could feel the weight of his arm around you grow heavier as he relaxed again.

“You’re so handsome.” You kissed the area just above his nipple. He chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest.

“M’sorry we can’t getcha any glasses.”

It was your turn to laugh, your fingertips pinching the area just below his ribs. The archer only pulled you closer.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Ain’t gotta tell me twice.” He yawned. “Kids’re goin’ to Carol’s later.”

Your hand stilled where it had been grazing up and down his side. “How come?”

“Cause I’m too tired righ’t now to say hello properly.” He shift onto his back and pulled you right along, your weight settling halfway on top of him. “And that’s gonna take a few hours at least.”

You snorted. “Is that the reason you gave Carol?”

“Told her ya got a bug up your ass an’ wanted to clean without trippin’ over kids.”

“She knew that was a lie, didn’t she?”

“Saw right through it.”

You chuckled quietly and allowed yourself to melt into the warmth of his embrace, suddenly too tired to think clearly. Judging from his deep, even breaths, Daryl was already out cold.

Your last thought before letting sleep claim you was how ironic it was that it took the end of the world for you to find everything you could ever want.

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luna0713hunter · 8 months

Text

A shoulder to cry on

Shanks x reader

Summary : Shanks was older than you,with lots more experience. But when it came to the love between the two of you,age never really mattered.

Warnings : none really,hurt/comfort (my favorite),mention of phantom limb and arm lose, age gap relationship (i mean,its Shanks,who wouldn't want him),pet names,reader is referred to 'baby girl' and 'princess',fluffy and happy ending!

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

You always loved Shanks.

Ever since you joined the crew;and saw how awfully kind the older man was,there was a little feeling in your heart that you couldn't shake.

Shanks was amazing;he never fought unless necessary,he was always kind toward his crew and even strangers. He gave you a home when you lost your own and shared his food with you when you didn't have much to eat.

You always loved Shanks. But you hated how selfless he always was.

You remember the day Shanks came back to your ship with his coat hanging loosely on his left arm. When he sat down with pale skin and cold sweat running down his forehead;the blood pooling around him,you remember crying your eyes out.

But Shanks only laughed and patted your head, telling you 'its just a scratch.'

And you were too young back then,but the mere sight of Shanks biting down on a dirty rag to keep himself from screaming while the others tried to stop the bleeding by tying bandages around his severed limb,was enough to make you sob in one of your crew mate's arms.

After that,you became attached to Shanks by hip.

You wouldn't let Shanks go anywhere alone;he was going to the market?you were there. He was going to deal with some other pirates? You were fighting back to back.

You grew up with Shanks,around him and others until you forgot how your life even was before meeting the man. And to be honest,you didnt want to think about a life without Shanks.

It was one of those days again;where the weather was slightly stormy, dark clouds covering the sky and forcing you guys to berth and a chance to reload. As your crewmates take this opportunity to get drunk shitless and have fun,you stay behind on the ship to watch out for any unwanted guests.

It was a day like this when Shanks lost his arm-

A loud sound of something crashing to the ground and breaking made you jump to your feet as you rushed to the source; stumbling on your steps,and your heart beating out of your chest. Only one thing on your mind.

Shank Shanks Shanks Shanks Shanks Shanks Shanks -

When you finally reach Shanks bedroom,you dont even think about knocking before bursting through the door,your heart almost jumping out of your chest when you see the state the man you love is in.

Shanks never really told anyone about his Phantom Limb. On days like this;where the weather was stormy and the skies cloudy,the pain of his lost arm would always come back.

But Shanks was Shanks. Never even once telling anyone about it;just smiling and going on with his day. And you,who were hopelessly in love with him, noticed every little detail about him.

So seeing him like this;sitting on the ground while clutching to what was once his arm under his coat;his face pale,sweat coating his skin and his breaths uneven had your heart tearing apart.

Because to you,Shanks was a god,and gods weren't supposed to kneel,or feel pain.

But you weren't anything if not a devoted believer.

There were glass shards of his favorite bottle of wine on the ground were the dark red liquid was spilled.As your knees hit the floor at his side,Shanks raises his head shakily and when his eyes finally manage to focus on you,he gives you a pained smile.

Just like that day-

"Hey princess," and your chest hurts when his voice breaks slightly, "what're you doing here?"

Your hands hover above his shoulders before finally resting them on him;your touch ever so gentle in fear of hurting him.

"Shanks," and when you see him smile at the sound of your voice,your eyes blur with tears, "Oh, Shanks..."

As your name spills from his lips in a whisper,you finally break.

You sobs are loud and tears stream down your face,when your fingers start to card through his sweaty red locks.

Shanks pulls you in his lap with his other arm around your waist;his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hip as he rests his face against your palm.

"Baby girl," his voice is gentle,like he's scared to make you cry more, "why are you crying,my angel?"

You shake your head and since you cant form a coherent response,your eyes drift to his hidden severed arm.

And Shanks, immediately understands.

His hand moves up and wipes away your tear;his calluses fingers making their way to the back of your head to pull you closer. When your forehead hits his shoulder,Shanks starts combing your hair soothingly;while you feel his lips press against your temple.

"Baby girl, princess,my love... I'm alright. I swear,it doesnt hurt anymore."

"b-but," you take a deep breath,trying to talk without breaking down again, "you always get like this when the weather gets bad."

Shanks raises an eyebrow and looks down at you, surprised.

"how do you know that?"

"i always know everything about you,Shanks."

That has him quiet down and his hold tightening on you slightly.

"oh," he breaths "baby girl,how long were you keeping it in for my sake?"

You only shake your head and dont reply. But its enough for Shanks to know.

Since the very start. Since the day he lost his arm.

"beloved,listen to me." When you raise your head and meet his eyes with your red ones,he gives you the brightest smile, "there's my beautiful girl." He kisses your forehead,and then rests his own against yours, "i love you so much. More than you could ever imagine."

The confession has your eyes widening,before your cheek flush deep red. Shanks only chuckles and pulls you impossibly closer. He eyes your lips and wets his own with his tongue,and when he speaks next,his voice is barely above a whisper.

"can i kiss you?"

And a single nod is enough for him to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is sweet,just like Shanks. And although short,its enough to take your breath away.

It was everything you ever dreamed about.

"y'know," he tells you as soon as you pull back,a small grin on his lips upon seeing your dazed expression, "i know a way to help with my pain,if you're willing."

"yes," comes your immediate reply, "anything for you."

Shanks laughs and his eyes softens,and the sound makes your heart beat faster but lighter.

"i desperately crave some cuddling,now that i know my feelings are mutual."

The request has you giggling as you both lay on his hammock, with his arm protectively around you and yours resting on his chest.

To feel his heart beating. Safe and alive.

Shanks closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh that has you kissing his cheekbone.

"i love you Shanks. More than the seven seas and the whole universe."

And when with closed eyes,he once again locks his lips with yours,you know you'll be ok.

You wont ever let anything happen to him. Ever again.

#opla shanks #shanks x reader #one piece x reader #one piece live action x reader #one piece shanks

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zhonglis-wifey · 2 years

Note

I just really need Dottore fluff with his clones that is not nsfw so can we get reader that has been with Dottore since his academia years and is just being loving towards his younger clone version while his clone is just shy about all the attention that he's getting?

AAAAH I’M OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!! this is the cutest idea ever ur so galaxy brained for this

favorite • il dottore x reader

Being with Dottore so long, you had the privilege of seeing him grow into the man he is now. Correction: men he is now. Since he was expelled from the Academia, you witnessed Dottore’s scientific endeavors into more uncharted topics. The one that fascinated you far more than the others had to be his penchant for cloning himself. You already loved the real Dottore, so having even more of them was great!

All of them were instructed by the real Dottore to love and care for you just as he did. This instruction, however explicit it may be, was unnecessary, though; These clones were made to perfectly replicate him and every iteration of him loved you without having to be told to do so. Of course, since they represented different stages of Dottore’s adult life, they expressed that love in various ways.

Your heart sank when Dottore told you he had to go to Sumeru for the Fatui. These kinds of things happened with other Harbingers all the time, but since Dottore was so vital to the Tsaritsa’s homeland operations of creating delusions, you didn’t expect him to have to leave you for an extended period of time.

“I’m never going to finish this report with you here like this…” Dottore muttered, more to himself than you.

The two of you were in his laboratory in Zapolyarny Palace, with you sitting on his lap, chest against his, while he tried to focus on his job. Honestly, you never cared about his work as a Harbinger, especially not when it was about to take him away from you. You just wanted to be close to him before he was gone.

“I just wanna be together before you have to go tomorrow,” you whined. If you had been facing him, you would’ve seen a faint smile on Dottore’s face at your loving words.

He began to trace invisible circles on your waist with his unoccupied hand, soothing your sadness at his imminent departure. “The clones will be here, you know,” he suggested.

“But they’re not you,” you countered, disappointed in the idea of having to use the clones as a replacement. “I want you, Zandik.”

You felt the vibrations of a low chuckle move through his chest. “You say that now, but I think you’ll change your mind tomorrow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pondered aloud, never quite understanding what Dottore was talking about.

“You’ll see,” he smirked. You could tell he was amused with his own thoughts, as he often was. You just hoped that whatever he had planned wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

The next day, Dottore had left for Sumeru. You’d never let him (or anyone) know, but you cried as soon as you were alone. How were you supposed to fare without your Zandik? It wasn’t fair. Silently, you cursed the Tsaritsa for sending him away.

In his absence, you found your way back to the lab in Zapolyarny Palace, hoping to at least feel at home in a familiar environment that you often shared with Dottore. None of the Fatui stopped you, a non-member with little to no scientific knowledge, from entering by yourself; They knew that Dottore had given you full clearance and if they caused you any trouble, they’d be on the receiving end of one of his less than ethical experiments. Most of the time you pitied Dottore’s poor reputation but it seemed to serve you well here.

You didn’t have the chance to admire the space that Dottore called his own upon entering. Instead, you were met with the figure of someone all too familiar. It was Dottore — it looked like him, but young, like when you met in the Academia. Your mind raced through a thousand memories of the young Zandik you fell in love with all those years ago, long before the gears of time and corruption of man ripped up his kind heart. He was just as cute as you remembered; Appearing no older than his late teens to early twenties, his soft face was framed in wavy blue-green hair and his red eyes still sparkled with hope and aspiration.

So that’s what he meant when he said you’d change your mind about the clones.

“Ah, my apologies!” the clone exclaimed, flustered by your unannounced entrance. “Lord Harbinger didn’t tell me that you would be coming here today.”

You shrugged, smiling sincerely at this clone’s attitude. It was different than the Dottore you knew now and much more similar to the one you met years before. “No need to apologize, it’s my fault for coming over without telling anyone. I take it you’re a new clone?”

He nodded wordlessly, obviously intimidated by you. Oh, you were going to have so much fun with him.

A month had passed without the real Dottore returning from Sumeru. Everyday you grew more and more lonely, eventually tempting you to command invite the young clone to live with you until his creator returned. The poor thing was so nervous about it, saying that “Lord Harbinger wouldn’t want him to take his place with you.” You reminded the clone that Dottore created him to act as a replacement in his stead, giving him no choice but to come home with you.

Having the clone around made you feel years younger, as he was a constant reminder of your shared youth with Dottore. It was like you got to relive all those fun little things that you just couldn’t do anymore. In the Academia, you loved to tease Dottore about his very obvious crush on you. He would always get so flustered and try to quickly exit the conversation, usually saying he had class as an excuse. The clone was the same; Every time you wanted to do something as simple as hold his hand, he would get so anxious. (You wondered how Dottore was able to make an artificial person blush. Was there blood in him?)

Your overwhelming affection for the clone spiraled out of control, with him now leaning against the headboard of the bed you shared with his creator, shivering with adrenaline as you straddled his thighs and and he pressed countless kisses to his face and neck. He was whimpering at your touch, very clearly flustered, but you had no intentions of stopping anytime soon. You couldn’t help yourself!

But, you could also tell he was a bit uncomfortable, maybe not in a fun, cute way. You’d never want to hurt the clone, even if he wasn’t a real person. He still had feelings and you respected that.

“You’re uncomfortable,” you noted reluctantly as you backed off a bit. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

His cheeks flushed (again, how was that possible?) and he gazed up at your through long eyelashes. “I’m not uncomfortable! Please don’t go,” he begged, sparkly red eyes beginning to tear up. “I’m just not meant for this.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. Like his creator, you didn’t know what the clone was talking about.

“I don’t think Lord Harbinger created me for this purpose. I wasn’t made to fulfill your romantic needs,” he explained, unable to meet your eyes.

You never intended to feel so strongly for one of Dottore’s clones, but something about his youthful reminiscence and shy sincerity tugged at your heartstrings. You petted just head gently, lightly scratching that specific spot that the real Dottore always asked you to. The clone practically melted into you. He was just like the real Dottore.

“But you were,” you reassured him. You pulled the clone into your warm, comforting arms as you recounted various stories about your time in the Academia with the creator he was modeled after. It made the clone feel a little better, like he was supposed to be here.

That was until the real Dottore burst through the bedroom door, interrupting the sweet moment you shared with his clone. The clone scrambled off of the bed and away from you in hopes of appeasing the Harbinger, but he paid him no mind. You, too, arose from the bed to greet your lover with a kiss, leaving the clone all by himself.

“I missed you,” Dottore whispered almost inaudibly, like he was unable to let himself experience his love for you as wholly as he would like to.

You shrugged. “I’d say the same thing, but…”

You went back to the clone and wrapped your arms around his waist with no warning. He awkwardly stared at his creator, as if to say, ‘I’m sorry, they started it.’

“This clone is so cute!” you beamed. You swore you felt the clone let out a tiny sigh of relief.

Dottore stared at the two of you, surprised that you had taken such a liking to the clone. He created him with the intention of you loving him, sure, but you seemed downright in love with it. Dottore wasn’t worried, though. The love you had for the clone stemmed from your even stronger love for him, he knew that.

“Perhaps he can always be around when I’m not,” Dottore suggested, a teasing lilt in his tone. He shifted his gaze to the clone and addressed him, “Would you like that?”

The clone nodded, still not quite used to feeling your hands on him.

The real Dottore, Zandik, laughed at the clone’s behavior. It really did remind him of his old self. “Well, I guess it’ll have to be the three of us together until then.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #il dottore

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bunny-yan · 1 year

Text

Hero!Yandere x Reincarnated GN!Reader

TW: kidnapping, mentions of violence, mentions of death, infantalization, no minors plz

—

You smiled brightly, following the arch with your eyes. This was it. You were finally going to leave here. You’d lived in this small town all of your life and you were finally moving on to bigger and better things. There was nothing holding you back anymore.

You took one step and froze when your eyes met his.

Tasman.

He was waiting in the archway. You hated to admit it, but it was as if he was expecting it. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be off, defeating the demon king with his merry band of fellow heroes.

Smiling, Tasman walked closer before kissing you on the cheek.

“Hi lover, how have you been?”

“Tasman, what are you doing here?”

He smiled, taking your hand in his as he lead you further into the village.

“We need to talk.”

~*~

“What was I supposed to do‽” you demanded, breathing hard as you clenched your fist. It’d become obvious that Tasman had placed a tracking spell on you before he left. It alerted him when you were nearing the edge of the village and he’d only appeared so quickly because you’d never been outside the village before.

In none of your lives.

“Was I supposed to wait for you to come back?” You laughed bitterly. It was impossible to cover up you disdain. “I’d be old and wrinkled, in love and stupid because I believed that you would actually come back for me.”

“Don’t say it like that.” He tried to come forward, placing a hand on your arm, but you slapped it away.

“No!” You moved away from him, crossing your arms as you looked at the luggage he had been so kind to bring back to your house. “I’m not interested in hearing your excuses! I don’t care if you still loved me or love me! I loved you and it broke my heart to hear how you eventually ended up getting married to anything with a skirt.”

“You don’t understand.”

Your laugh was almost hysterical as you cut him off. “The princess? A political marriage encouraged by the king. How could the honorable hero say no?”

He shook his head, but you didn’t acknowledge it. You gathered your things as you continued your rant. “But then there was the priestess acting as a saint of the kingdom and even though in ever other timeline she was forbidden to marry, what are the odds that you beat them? Pretty fucking great apparently. Nothing is too hard for the hero.”

Disgust and anger was obvious in your tone but what Tasman felt most was hurt, oozing from every word you said.

“The mermaid in one of your little side adventures, the Fae queen who was mysteriously drawn out of hiding. Even the demon lord got a chance! But me?” You shook your head as you glared at him. “The childhood best friend, forever to only be an afterthought in your story.”

Tasman was quiet. He couldn’t deny that there was an immense truth to your words, but he didn’t want to accept what you were trying to say.

You understood the feeling of fading hope too well. You’d grown old time and time again, believing in the lie called true love. Your heart grew colder with each life you spent waiting for a future that you never got to have.

“I’m tired of living for you, Tasman. I’m tired of waiting and passing up on the opportunities to escape this lonely, shitty life of mine. I’m not doing it anymore.”

You walked to the door, but his hand easily held it closed.

“Don’t go. Let’s talk about this.”

You turned, pushing him away in anger but he didn’t budge.

“I don’t want to talk. I want to leave. I want to get on with my life without you in it.”

“Don’t say that.” Tasman begged. He pulled the bag off of your shoulders despite your protests, pulling you further into the house.

“I want you to exist safely. I understand that it’s hard being away from me, but can’t you see that I can’t be with you as long as the demon lord exists? I’m just asking you to wait.”

“I’ve waited!” you exploded. “For eight of my fucking lives I waited for you. In each one you completed your mission and didn’t come back for me.” It hurt to say, but it was the truth. You continued to remind yourself of it so you’d never go back. No matter how many times you fell in love with him, you couldn’t forget the many versions of broken hearts you experienced, each more painful than the last. You felt foolish to fall for the same person, time and time again, but you finally decided that enough was enough.

You’d let him go. You had to.

~*~

Tasman walked into the messy room; it looked like a hurricane passed through before he got there.

He stepped over the scattered debris, pretending as if they weren’t even there as he sat next to the glaring you. If he noticed your heated gaze, he didn’t acknowledge it.

He continued to smile, uncovering an appetizing platter of fruit.

“You haven’t been eating much lately. The chef said fruit shouldn’t be too hard on your stomach.”

He stabbed a strawberry with a fork before holding it near your mouth. “Your favorite.”

You slapped the fork out of his hand, hearing it clatter onto the ground before the strawberry rolled away. You crossed your arms, looking away from him.

The smile didn’t leave his face as he went to pick up the fork. Setting it down slowly, you jumped in alarm when the table suddenly cracked. He pulled his hand away, the place where his fingers had been crumbling into dust.

“Luckily, I brought another fork.” He said in a quiet voice. He picked up another strawberry, the smile on his face morphing as he brought it close to you once again. “Open wide!” He said in a sickly sweet tone.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were afraid of him.

He’d whisked you away, deciding that you were throwing a tantrum because you hadn’t seen him in so long. He could’ve left you in the village, forcing you to stay by placing a barrier around you, but he decided he wanted to mend your relationship. It didn’t matter that you complained, that you screamed when he grabbed you around the waist before carrying you like luggage out of the village. The locals watched the spectacle, women covering their mouths in shock as others looked on. No one would stand in the way of the hero after all.

His party looked shocked when he brought you back to their base, unafraid to ask questions until a piercing look shut them all up. He wouldn’t be questioned about the mysterious stranger he was locking in his bedroom.

You never expected violence from Tasman, but you should’ve assumed that it was natural for him considering the number of people he killed in the name of justice. He was the hero and the hero always put the people’s needs before his own.

But only if it meant keeping you by his side.

You’d try to talk to the other members of his party, begging them to help you, to allow you a chance to escape if they didn’t want to get directly involved, but you were promptly informed of the treaty that Tasman had made with the king of your country.

The country would turn a blind eye to one citizen being held against their will and in return their hero would defeat the demon king. You could’ve appealed. You wanted to. But that would never happen. Tasman refused to let you leave his room until you proved to him that you could behave and the country would never choose a citizen over their beloved hero. You could imagine the looks you’d receive for even suggesting that they choose you over their savior.

It was for the greater good.

You should’ve been happy. There were people falling over their feet just to get a glimpse at the hero and yet you were sitting here, ungrateful to be blessed with his pampering. He would take over the world for you if you asked, but you would rather the world be destroyed for a taste of freedom?

It was selfish.

You were selfish. It was his favorite words to say whenever you begged him to let you go. He was out, risking his life for the sake of the world, fighting as hard as he could for a chance to come back to you, and you wanted to leave him.

“Don’t do this.” he said, when you continued to ignore his prodding. “How am I supposed to fight if I’m constantly worrying over your health? You have to eat.” When you continued to refuse him, you felt the words come before he even said them.

“You’re being selfish.”

You knew by now that there was no point in arguing with him. No matter how much truth existed in your words, they’d immediately be brushed away as he shushed you. Cooing about how wrong you were. He told you time and time again that he just wanted to protect you. About how there were big, bad things out there in the big, bad world you lived in and how this was the only way he could keep you safe.

It didn’t matter how many times you lived to see death knocking at your door, hands withered from the experience of life. He knew best. He knew what was right for you. You would be happy if you just listened to him.

If you just gave in.

It didn’t matter that he was essentially threatening to let the world burn if it meant that he couldn’t have you. He’d told you time and time again how important you were to him. He’d threaten you, yell at you, call you selfish.

It was your fault that people were dying. He could save them if only you would listen to him. If only you would eat or let him hold you. Little concessions on your part meant the preservation of mankind. How inconsiderate could you be to think you mattered more than that?

His selfishness didn’t matter because he was the greater good. If you didn’t give into what he wanted, he was willing to show you just how selfish he could be.

#yandere #male yandere #yan!tasman #hero yandere #hero #reincarnation #yandere oc #male oc #original character #based off of a manga i read #yandere x you #yandere x gn reader

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