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serene-destruction · 2 months

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(Platonic) Reactions To Finding Out You're In Hell For Killing Your Abuser [Angel, Lucifer, Alastor, Vox]

TW: Mentions of childhood sexual abuse | Cannon typical violence | Mentions of suicide

A/n: this one is really dark so reader discretion is greatly advised. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 4.5k

Angel Dust

You and Angel Dust likely met at the hotel. You were a newer resident of hell that just so happened to be spotted by Charlie and taken in after wondering the streets.

He didn't take to you right away, considering he had his own issues to deal with. Not to mention that you were such a goody two shoes that it kinda made him feel even worse about himself. Despite his name he knew he was far from any angel and your presence only exemplified that.

By all accounts you seemed to save your shit together. A drug free, pure and kind person, through and through. You never faltered. So it takes a while for him to even stand being in your presence, longer to actually try and talk with you. He hates that he doesn't find something to hate about you. Just so damn perfect.

He should have known better, truthfully. No one gets sent to hell off a whim, there were reasons. He was just so blinded by your purity at first that he doesn't see it. He isn't the only one, either. Charlie would be the first to use you as an example of purity.

But all the same the two of you do end up getting close to each other. You may be a bit straight-laced for his taste, but he can't help but grow attached. You're a good kid, you really don't deserve to be here.

It only takes one night for his perceptions of you to shatter

It started with one of Charlie's trust games. You were all meant to share what sins brought you down here. In a place like hell that wasn't usually a very taboo subject. Murder, drugs, sex, Angel's heard it all. But despite that assurance you wanted absolutely nothing to do with the exercise. You had locked yourself in your room, refusing to participate. So while the others went on ahead Angel decided he'd talk to you.

“Kid! C’mon, it can't be that bad!”

“I don't want to!” You were adamant. He should have known it right then

“Kid…look, can ya at least let me in? I'm tired of yelling through the door!” He pleaded and, to his surprise, you did. Your eyes avoided him completely as you allowed him to step in the room. Even when the two of you sat down on your bed you didn't budge. You looked almost as terrified as the first day you came here.

“Look, I get that admittin’ what you done can be a bit…embarrassin’ sometimes,” he's tries to calm you.

“But none of us are perfect and you ain't any different. Hell, it might even be good for you” his attempt at comfort didn't seem to be working. In fact he might have made it worse, given how you turned further away from him.

“It’s not just because it's embarrassing! I- I just don't want to tell everyone!” you answer through a tightening voice. There's a pause as Angel considers your words before he speaks again.

“Then you don't gotta tell everyone. You can just tell me” He was surprised when the offer had you turning back to him, though your discomfort was still evident. You didn't say anything at first but eventually you found the words.

“...Promise you won't tell anybody?” he fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was sure you were being overdramatic. You probably told a little lie that got out of control or accidentally kicked a puppy or-

“Promise” he answered anyway.

And so you told him

“I…I was tired of him touching me” Angel’s stomach immediately drops at just those few words. All of his previous downplaying caused an explosion of guilt within him.

“He was always touching. Every day since I was little. Every time he was over, every time I was alone. I couldn't- I…I just wanted it to be over”

He knew where this was going.

“I-I snapped. I just couldn't take it anymore. Eighteen fucking years” your voice is a mix of rage and pain, a sound he didn't think you capable of until now.

“I'd never been so angry. I didn't- I didn't know what I was doing until it was over. There was blood everywhere- I killed him and…and I couldn't live with myself. I'd never done something like that before! I'd never hurt anyone! I couldn't live with that- I couldn't-”

Before you can spiral any further you feel Angels hand land on yours. With slow, purposeful movements he pulled you into his arms. You freeze for a moment, caught entirely off guard by the sudden comfort. He was careful not to hold you too tight and keep his breaths steady. Keep himself predictable.

“S’okay kid…You didn't do a damn thing wrong” his whispered words break through your shock, melting you into a pile of sobs in his arms, gripping onto him like your very soul depended on it.

After that night the two of you quickly become known for your fierce protectiveness over each other. Angel swears that if he ever sees the bastard he'll rip him a new asshole before shoving a spike in it.

Lucifer Morningstar

You were one of many assistants to Lucifer, helping him with the many tasks he doesn't ever keep up with as the king of hell. You are most likely ignored and/or forgotten about for a while. He is far too, uh…busy for remembering much of anything, let alone names and job titles.

However you do manage to catch his eyes when he finally notices your apparent lack of any sort of social life in hell. Unlike the others he has working for him who seem all too happy to indulge in hells many depraved luxuries, you aren't one of them.

It triggers his curiosity, so he starts to remember your name and even manages to strike up conversations with you that don't sound like he's desperately trying to remember who he's even talking to.

You begin to be the first person he goes to when he needs something done and in turn you go to him when you need something as well. It's never anything too much, he notices. Always just small tasks that take him almost no effort at all. But you seem to beam at even the smallest kindness.

But then there is that ill-fated night…

It was late and you were still hard at work in your office.

Or at least you would have been, if you didn't feel like the weight of everything was weighing down on you as you stared down the two items Lucifer had left for you. A small note and a tiny rubber duck. You kept re-reading the note over and over again.

‘You're a good kid, Y/n. Keep it up’

The small gesture had formed a sickening guilt in you. You were the farthest thing from good. What you had done rightfully landed you in the shithole you belonged in. You didn't deserve his kindness, let alone his care. You felt so guilty for ever allowing him to think that you-

A knock at your door has you quickly wiping away your tears. Before you can say anything he opens it, his wide smile falling immediately.

“Oh no, what-” he pauses when he sees the death grip you have on the rubber duck he'd gifted, your eyes unable to even glance at him. He gives a nervous laugh at that. It sounds more worried than anything.

“You uh- don't like the gift, I take it?” At that your head whips to look at him, an attempt to calm your nerves written all over your face.

“No! No that's not-…no” your frantic words die down quickly as you quickly turn away again, unable to look the man in the eyes. There is a long silence that feels almost like an eternity passing. Then, to your complete surprise, he slowly pulls up a chair next to you, his eyes not turning from you for even a moment.

“Do you…maybe wanna talk about what it is then?” His voice is disarming, a mix of poorly feigned calm and genuine concern. It frightens you how quickly he makes you want to spill your guts.

“It's- I’m not-” You pause, trying to collect your words. You know then that you can't bear to tell him anything but the truth.

“I don't deserve this” you gesture to the toy and his letter. He doesn't seem to understand.

“You? Y/n, you're practically the only reason I get any work done around here! The least I can do is this, truly. Why wouldn't you deserve it?” His tone is full of disbelief, almost entirely sure that you must be avoiding telling him the entire truth.

“Because it isn't true” the bluntness of your words catches him off guard.

“I killed him and…and it felt good when I did it. It felt good to hurt him like he hurt me, it felt good being in control. It didn't feel bad when I put that knife through his throat, It didn't feel bad when I finally got him to stop touching me. It didn't…until it was over” the tears that had brimmed at your eyes fell like rivers, your attempts to wipe them away fruitless. You didn't dare look him in the eye, even as you continued.

“There was so much blood. I…I didn't know what to do. I- I didn't mean- no, no I did. But I just couldn't live with it. I couldn't live knowing that I killed him and that all I could think about was that he'd never touch me again! I couldn't-!” your words are cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around you. For a moment you freeze, confused and horrified by the action, that is until the comfort of it seeps into you, knowing that the hands that held you now meant no harm. After that you sobbed into him.

Only once you'd calmed your sobs to hiccups and your grip loosened did he finally pull away. But he didn't go far and his eyes looked at you with nothing but pure concern.

“You listen to me, okay? I would never hold that against you. I couldn't if I tried. You did what you had to and I trust that you did it for the right reasons” his words of forgiveness strike through you, hitting you directly in your wounded heart. Never before had you believed anyone could look so kindly upon you knowing what you'd done.

After that day Lucifer had become quite father-like to you, treating you just like he would his own kid. You practically become an honorary Morningstar.

Alastor

You and Alastor have an…interesting relationship. the two of you very likely met at the hotel, considering he wouldn't have given you a second glance otherwise. You were, after all, just one of the many other souls, and not an impressive one at that. Meek, young and weak.

It takes a long while for Alastor to warm up to you, most likely because you avoid him at all cost. You learn quickly that Alastor doesn't like being avoided like that when he begins to follow you around.

It's through conversation that he grows interested in you. When you aren't blinded by your fear he's actually a great conversationalist, especially when he's alone with you. It seems almost like he drops a bit of his guard as well, something you explain away as you being of zero threat to him. The two of you often talk of your plans for the day and whatever latest idea Charlie has conjured. Small talk, for the most part. Never anything personal

Which is why you are so caught off guard when he asks the truthfully inevitable question.

It was a usual calm morning in the hotel kitchen. A bit of smooth jazz played from an old radio, the coffee machine churned, the constant static from Alastor flowed through the room and the sound of idle chit-chat passed between the two of you. Besides the fact that no one else joined the two of you, it all seemed relatively normal.

“I must say, for someone in Hell you have quite the kind heart, my dear. One might even ask how you managed to get yourself down here” Alastors words cause your heart to sink almost immediately. Your body tenses, your breathing catching for just a moment. You make sure to keep your eyes on the coffee pot and manage to give him a halfhearted laugh. But you know the moment he goes quiet for just that second too long that he noticed.

“How did you end up down here, if you don't mind telling me?” You feel your tongue go dry, your jaw clench, your entire being beg to leave this conversation. But you knew there wasn't a chance in all of Hell that you'd get out of this. If he didn't get an answer now he'd be sure to get one later.

“I uh…” you start, nausea threatening to crawl in.

“I don't know” you try to answer, hoping beyond hope that it would satisfy him.

It did not.

“Now now, one mustn't feel the need to lie to friends. I assure you I've seen worse than whatever it is you managed to do!” You pause at his words, finally turning over your shoulder to look at him.

“We’re…friends?” You ask, surprised to see him look almost just as confused by your words.

“Why of course! The both of us have quite nice talks with one another, why wouldn't we be?” He seems so confident as he speaks. Despite how skeptical you've been ever since meeting him, you can't help but feel that he might genuinely be growing on you. Fuck, you might even trust the guy. Not with your soul, mind you, but you were sure at least your words would be safe with him.

“Out with it then, what got you sent down to this lovely pit of fire and brimstone?” his tone is jovial and light, not taking this nearly as seriously as you felt he should be. You were weirded out when it actually helped you calm down a little.

“Well…” should you tell him? Would he even care? Would he blink an eye at your suffering? Would he laugh at you? All the possibilities ran through your head at once.

When you finally turned to face him he gave you an expectant look, fully anticipating an answer from you. So you took a deep breath and turned your head to gaze at a nearby wall before beginning.

“My uncle, he um…well he didn't really know how to keep his hands to himself. Ever since I first met the man he wouldn't keep his damn hands off me. Then mom died and I had to live with him and…” you pause a moment, trying to keep yourself together. With a deep breath you continued.

“He never stopped touching me. No one believed me, no one did anything. Not when I was eight, or ten, or fifteen. Not after either. I was just alone with him. Every day of every month of every year…until I couldn't take it anymore” your voice was quiet now, just above a whisper to keep it from shaking.

“I was cooking dinner when he came behind me and-…I snapped and…well I'm not really sure. I just remember being covered in blood and knowing that no one would believe me. So I did what I thought was the only thing I could do. Next thing I knew I found out I had been damned for all eternity” you hugged yourself in an attempt at comfort that wasn't working. You managed, by the smallest effort, to keep your tears in and your breath steady, but you knew you'd break at any moment. When you turned to him, his smile still plastered and staring blankly at you, you thought you just might have done so then. So you quickly turned back around to save yourself the embarrassment.

“But yeah. Pretty sure that's why I'm here-”

“That was quite brave of you” his words shock you still enough that you might have even felt your heart stop. Your head snaps back to him in an instant, unsure if you'd heard him right. He's standing now, smile just a little less wide and leaning on his cane. If you didn't know any better you might have mistaken it for a look of uncanny care.

“What?” You whisper the word. He stands a little taller at that.

“When the world stops caring then one must simply make it. Very few do so, and so I applaud your effort in taking fate into your own hands” he is serious, almost deathly so. His words aren’t what you expected, but they are actually some of the most comforting you'd ever heard. Not only because he believed you, but because he truly believed you'd done the right thing.

“...Thank you” his smile widens again and you catch how ever so slightly bigger his antlers have gotten and the small flicks of green that seem to only show in your peripheral. You choose not to say anything about it.

“Of course! Now I simply must be on my way! There is much to do and so little time. Have a pleasant rest of your morning!” he was out the door before you even realized he was leaving. You would have said goodbye yourself if you didn't know he was already gone. And without his coffee too!

After this little incident Alastor seems almost tied at your hip. You are warned time and time again not to get too close to him but after the way he took the news of your sin you honestly don't think you could push him away. He was the first person you'd ever told in Hell, the first person to ever believe you. And given how keen he is on keeping you safe both in and out of the hotel you are quite happy to call him a friend.

Vox

The only way you'd be able to get even a second glance from Vox is if you worked for him and, let's be real, he couldn't have given less of a shit about you when he first met you. You were one out of thousands that worked on his many, many projects. You were lucky if he ever even read your name, let alone remembered it.

It takes quite the circumstance for him to notice you and it's likely only because of very selfish reasons. Maybe he picks you out of the crowd as a gag at first. The big CEO talking to this meek little low life, giving them a glance at something they'll never achieve.

But Vox has a way of getting attached to the strangest things sometimes and you end up being among them. Maybe it's the way you go along with whatever he's saying, playing to his ego. Maybe it's the way he knows you don't mean a single word and he feels he has to prove himself. Or maybe he just liked having a bit of a babyface around to impress. Either way, he ends up kind of taking you in.

You become a sort of protege to Vox as he teaches you all about his company and how to run it; mostly so he can hand you the tasks of the day that he doesn't feel like handling. You're a secretary of sorts. He does, however, try to keep a distance between you and the other V’s. Mostly because he knows they can be a bit much and he doesn't want to scare you off just yet.

But it's inevitable that you would meet them someday. And, as he expected, the first meeting didn't go very well.

You and Vox were on your way down the hall in the middle of idle conversation that was mostly work related. You liked having these conversations with him, mostly because he always seemed so pleased when you'd give him an idea he liked or a change he'd consider. You felt useful in a way you hadn't really ever felt before-

“My my, if it isn't Vox and his new little pet” the voice speaks behind you and both you and Vox turn to see who it is. You are set on edge when Vox gets suddenly nervous.

“Val! I thought you had work down in the studio today?” Vox’s voice booms in the way you know he only does when he's trying to keep his cool. You make sure to stand a little closer to him when Val walks up to the two of you.

“You've been hiding from me, love. So I figured I'd pay a visit. Good thing too” the moth man leans down to you so close you feel your entire being beg to disappear.

“I wouldn’t have met the darling that's been keeping Voxy so occupied. Cosita bonita” he looks down at you, his smile alone sending a cold shiver up your spine. He grabs your hand and instead of doing anything normal like shaking or kissing it, he instead begins to lick up your arm.

“Rumor has it your little fall from grace betrays how sweet as you look” Horrified and feeling very familiar fear consume your being, you freeze up. Luckily, and rather surprisingly, Vox very quickly pulls him away from you.

“Alright, alright that's enough of that!” his tone is that of a light reprimand, though the swirls in his eyes betray him. He effortlessly spins the moth man around in something similar to a dance, ending with the two of them facing away from you. Whispered words are exchanged, Val glancing back at you for only a moment afterwards before walking off with no complaint.

Vox straightens his suit, his performative smile falling for a moment before turning back to you.

“Let's get back on our way” he beckons you as he continues to walk. You follow along, compliant as ever. He leads you to an elevator where the two of you get in and he clicks whatever floor he'd decided he had work on. You think everything is relatively normal until, with a wave of his hand, the elevator stops.

“What did he mean?” The question confuses you.

“...about what?” You ask, unsure what he was getting at. He turns to you.

“About your ‘fall from grace', what was he getting at?” the realization dawns on you the same way acid would drip into an old wound. There was really only one thing that could mean and the fact that a man you'd never met knew enough to mention it made you sick to your stomach.

“Kid?” He calls to you and it's only then you notice tears build in your eyes. You quickly blink them away before making sure to avoid looking in his general direction.

“I…don't know” you tried, very unconvincingly, to feign ignorance. Unfortunately that didn't go over well with him.

“I don't think I've met a worse liar in the entirety of Hell than you” he states plainly and you can't help but agree. You hadn't really ever had practice in the field. Yet even with his call on your bullshit you chose to stay silent.

“Look, If Val knows then chances are I'm finding out anyway. He's not exactly great at keeping his mouth shut” he tries to convince an answer out of you but his words only make it worse. You didn't want that creep to know in the first place! But, being ever so horrible at keeping such a cold front up, you break under his gaze.

“It’s why I'm in Hell” you start off vague and you notice how he leans in just a bit closer.

“Seriously? That's what's got you upset? What, was it embarrassing? Because believe me, I'm sure I've heard worse” he was really trying to sell you that notion, what with the wide smile and undivided attention, but you couldn't help the nagging voice that told you he wouldn't believe you.

But still, you assumed it better he heard it from you than Val. After all, you and Vox were pretty close at this point. If there was anyone that you'd tell, it would be him.

“No it's- well it is embarrassing, but-” you stammer a moment, trying to find the right way to say it. Soon enough you fix your eyes on the metal doors and just spill.

“I had an uncle. I lived with him for a while, most of my human life really. And he uh…I was just a kid at the time and he- he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Just kept…touching me. For years” the way the information pours out of you is forced. Like you have to pry it from your own mind and shove it out your throat. But there was no point stopping now.

“And then I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't even really know what happened. One second I was cooking dinner and the next he came behind me and…and then everything was bloody and…” you trail for a moment, your mind brought back to that horrific memory. Without a thought you finally turn to Vox.

He looks completely deflated, stripped of that egocentric smile of his and leaving nothing but a shocked still expression in its place. His mouth hangs slightly open as if to say something, but no words come. You feel your tears sting your eyes at the sight.

“No one believed me when I told them what he was doing, no one believed me when I told them for how long. So I knew when I killed him it would just be the same. That they'd make him a martyr and I'd be the villain and- and I couldn't deal with that! I- I didn't want to live through that again!” your voice raises at the end, voice pleading to be listened to, to be believed. Fuck, even just heard.

You get what you ask for with his stunned silence and tense posture. After a moment though you can't help but feel like you want to take your words back, his silence disturbing you greatly.

Just as you're about to ask him to forget what he'd heard, to pretend like you hadn't ever said anything and move on like normal, his hands reach slowly for you. The movement confuses you so greatly that you don't even think to stop him when he silently pulls you into him. You stand rigid for a long moment before, bit by bit, melting into sobs. He holds you tighter in the silence of the elevator and you can't help but grip onto him like your afterlife depended on it.

It's after this that Vox becomes fiercely protective of you. It's incredibly strange for everyone, including yourself. He is adamant that it's just because you know so much about his company, that it's all purely business. But when you think back to that day in the elevator you can't help but believe that he might just actually care about you.

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strongheartneteyam · 11 months

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Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!human!reader/female!dreamwalker!reader

Chapter 3

CW: angst, reader is a loner, reader works her ass off every day at the lab, fluff, neteyam being cute towards reader (even tho it still has weird vibes lol), mad jealous neteyam, TRIGGER WARNING for depression symptoms (such as being moody n having less appetite than the usual), stalking, obsessive and toxic behavior, also TRIGGER WARNING for reader mentioning the word “suicidal” in an internal monologue (she IS NOT actually suicidal, she just feels really sad and mentions the word. if u read it, you'll know what I mean)

Not proofread. I'll do it as soon as I can ♡ I hope it's a good chapter 🥲 & thank u to everyone who's reading this fanfic, who left a comment in the last chapter and, of course, to everyone who asked to be in the taglist I LOVE Y'ALL 😘💕💕💕

Chapter 2

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Mother looking at me

Tell me, what do you see?

Yes, I've lost my mind

(...)

Will I ever be free?

Have I crossed the line?

All the things she said, running through my head

All the things she said (t.A.T.u)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You woke up feeling like crap that morning.

Your last shift had been so demanding. You had to cook just so much food that you started to wonder if there was anything left in the pantry. You had gone into that room just so many times yesterday to get ingredients and kitchen utensils, your legs felt heavy and sore now, as you stretched them in your small bed.

There were just too many people to eat in that damn laboratory.

Meanwhile you, the cook, barely had any time left to eat. There was always just so much work to do. So many dishes to wash, so many vegetables and meat to cut, bread to prepare from scratch... Your head hurt just thinking about it.

You felt so stressed out that you preferred to unwind a little instead of eating, sometimes. You would find a quiet place, sit somewhere, put your headphones on and press play on one of your many curated playlists or in one of your favorite songs. Listening to music seemed to work like a medicine to your wounds and, going to the cafeteria and having to socialize, to have people all around you felt too much, so, you just tried to avoid it. You even started to lose a little weight because of it. Nothing too much, though. You were only slightly thinner than you used to be. But in the back of your head, there was always a voice saying "Please, take better care of yourself...". Despite knowing that voice was right, you were too tired and apathetic to care.

Ever since you started to Dreamwalk, it was like your whole world had changed. That old life you led did not seem to be enough anymore. It never was, in the first place. It could never compare to the heightened senses you had when you were in your Avatar, helping you smell and hear everything better.

The first time you spent a whole afternoon running alone through the Pandoran forest next to Hell's Gate, you felt alive like you had not felt in years.

But nothing gold can ever stay. Way sooner than you expected, you had to be awakened from that magical dream. Everytime you came out of the technological machine you had to lay inside of to be able to drive your Avatar, you thought "Damn! Why wasn't I born a na'vi? They're so freaking lucky to have such an incredibly beautiful Planet to call their own. If only Earth was still as beautiful as it used to be..."

When you were not in one of your free days, you would always work until you felt exhausted and fed up with everything. It was not a walk in the park to be a cook. Even though you loved cooking since you were a teenager, when you used to always mix different ingredients and spices and create new recipes, this profession forced you to spend most of your time standing up and to have little time to sit and rest your poor fatigued legs. In some days, all you wanted was to sleep for 12 hours straight. And God knows you were capable of actually doing that.

Not a long time ago, you slept so much that, when you eventually woke up, it was 2 pm and you almost got fired from the lab when you finally showed up at the kitchen you were supposed to be in since 6 am.

You promised yourself you would never do that again. You just could not afford to lose that job. And you wanted to cry just thinking about not being able to Dreamwalk anymore. Exploring Pandora was the peak of your life, currently. It was when you felt high as a kite. As funny as it sounded, it was true. You felt euphoria run through your body everytime you got to have blue skin and be over 8 feet tall.

You liked to cook and was good at it, but, you were a smart, intelligent girl who knew much more than people thought you did. Unfortunately, you could not manage to get a higher position at the lab. Your forte was not sciencey stuff. It was subjects like Human History, Languages, Philosophy... At best, you got to use your language learning skills to learn basic na'vi fast and was able to get an Avatar from the lab. At least that was a good thing that your tiring job provided you. God knows that privilege was one of the few things keeping you alive. You goddamn hated you life, your job, everything... All your days seemed to be the same. Same chores, same annoying people... Most scientists did not try to hide that they did not see you as an equal. Even though they were always really polite to you, they would not let you in in their little groups, in their upbeat conversations through the laboratory corridors. You could count in one hand how many of them used to talk to you with genuine interest in hearing what you had to say.

You sat every day next to the less valued lab employees: janitors, cleaning ladies, other cooks just like you and so on. Your race had never been good at realizing the worth that these hardworking people had, anyway. Why would they do it now? You thought it to be so sad...

Those employees were nice regular people. Even thought some of them were idiots and treated you badly, there are people who behave like that anywhere. You were thankful that most of them were polite to you and treated you well enough. You also had a close friendship with one of the female employees, a cute, humble and really kind girl called Crystal. But she was your only actual friend. You did not remember the last time you had made an actual effort to make a friend, to be nice to someone in hopes you could get to know them better and they could become a part of your life. You had to admit you had been really grumpy lately.

You could easily blame such moodiness on your lack of will to keep living that life you currently had. It’s not that you were suicidal, it's just that you wished you could live a better life.

There was also Derek, the tall, cute boy you would make out with every now and then. You did not have a proper name for your relationship with him. He was always lovely towards you and you two would have really interesting conversations together and sneak around to kiss each other and do other types of heated stuff (though you never had sex with him) anytime you both felt like it. But it did not happen that often, anyway. You did not put much thought into it, to be honest. Derek was just a friend you would fool around with. You could not be farther from being in love with him or anything of sorts.

After another tiresome day, you walked fast towards your room. All you could think about was how nice and cozy your bed would feel when you would lay your body on it. Only five minutes after you finally laid down, you fell asleep. Slumber had been bugging you all day. Lately, it had always been like that.

They say you have to be careful what you wish for. That your words and thoughts have power over what happens to you. And you learned it the hard way.

In one of your infamous busy but boring afternoons, something unexpected happened to you.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a na'vi young man appeared outside of your glass window and tapped slightly on it. You almost choked on your own saliva when you saw that huge, blue creature staring at you with wide yellow eyes. A scream got stuck right in the middle of your throat, since you got so startled you could not get your vocal chords to obey the command your brain was sending them. What the hell was that na'vi doing in front of the laboratory? They did not use to come to Hell's Gate. And why was he looking at you through the kitchen window?

The na'vi boy just would not stop staring at you. His gaze was so intense it made you feel unbelievably uncomfortable. Suddenly, he pointed to the left. The big, ample door that led to the open area in front of the room you worked in was right at the same direction his four fingered hand was pointing to. You realized he was signaling to you that he wanted to see you outside of the lab.

You started to say, in your own mind: "What kind of weird situation is this?"

"Please?" You heard the alien plead in fluent English (he only had a typical na'vi accent), his voice coming through the narrow gap that existed between the glass and the window frame. His eyes reminded you of the eyes of a small kitten asking for food.

You got surprised by the fact that he was able to speak English. You wondered why he had learned it and who taught him the language.

You tried to reach for the door to try and inform someone that there was a na'vi around and ask if anybody knew who he was when you heard the alien say:

"Don't go, please! I just want to talk to you! I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your back was turned to him. When you turned around, he was smiling.

"It's incredible how you're even prettier up close."

"I'm sorry?!" You answered

"Oh, forgive me. My name is Neteyam. Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan. It's really nice to meet you." He was still smiling.

That name was familiar, Neteyam te Suli... Oh, of course! Neteyam was the son of the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya clan, Jake Sully. He was very famous between the na'vi and the humans.

Neteyam Suli was one of the most feared na'vi warriors out there. A great archer and very skilled with the knives the Omatikayas made themselves, he fought fearlessly against the recoms, including Colonel Miles Quaritch, an old enemy of his father. Quaritch used to lead the RDA soldiers when he was human, before being "revived" and given an Avatar body. He died in battle against the na'vi. But that did not mean that there was finally peace between humans and the na'vi race.

But why in hell was Neteyam Suli trying to talk to you? It is not like the na'vi liked the humans. On the contrary, they despised your race.

"Uhmm... okay. Nice to meet you..." You tried to be polite and peaceful towards the na'vi boy, like you were advised to be by your teachers, back when you were studying and training to get your Avatar "But I'm sorry, what did you say? That I'm prettier up close?" Your brows were furrowing, your face full of confusion. Despite all, you were calmer now that you knew you could communicate with him in English. Your na'vi was not the best out there.

"Yes." Neteyam's big amber eyes shone when he looked at your face. You were beyond dazed. "I've seen you before. Many times actually. But only from far away. It doesn't compare to seeing you right next to me." His voice had a weird warm feeling in it, like he was already acquainted to you. But how could it be? You did not even know who he was before he revealed his identity to you.

"When did you see me...?" Your mouth was slightly opened, so bewildered you felt

"Don't you wanna come outside so we can talk better?" He said, seeming excited.

"Unfortunately, no. I'm good, thanks." Neteyam looked sad after you declined his offer.

"Why not? I told you, I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise." He smiled faintly. You could tell he was hurt by your blunt answer.

It pained you to act like that towards him. You admired the na'vi so much. Damn, you even would choose to be born a na'vi if you somehow could go back in time, before you were inside your mother's womb and you could talk to Eywa herself. But how were you gonna trust him? There were some na'vi out there, his mother, for example, that hated humans with such a boiling passion. What if he took after his mother? You would be in trouble if he tried to kill you. Even though the na'vi were a peaceful by nature race, everyone has a limit, so, you had to be careful when interacting with them. You learned about all the genocide your kind had committed against his kind while simultaneously destroying his Planet slowly, in a cruel, despicable way. You honestly understood the contempt the na'vi felt when it came to humans.

You looked at Neteyam with honesty in your eyes and said:

"Please don't take this the wrong way but I can't really trust you. I know you told me you're not gonna hurt me, but, I'm still human. How can I know you trust me, to begin with?"

"I trust you because you're different. You're nothing like the others from your kind. You're more like my people. And I love that about you." Neteyam said, smiling at you.

"Can you please just tell me how do you know me? Because I've never seen you before. I've only heard about you because you're the Olo'eyktan's eldest son and Olo'eyktan to be. But you talk to me like you somehow... know me. I'm really confused, Neteyam." He felt his heart race when he heard you pronounce his name. Your voice sounded so sweet to his sensitive na'vi ears, making him move them somewhat to the sides. It was the same voice he heard in the forest, when he watched you talk to yourself saying how beautiful you thought some yellow, bioluminescent flower that you saw in the grass was.

"You're a Dreamwalker. I've seen you around. I love how much you seem to appreciate and respect my Planet instead of destroying it like the others from your kind do. That's why I think you're more na'vi than human." He chuckled happily and you got confused by his last sentence.

You had to admit he looked cute when his fangs escaped from under his upper lip whenever he smiled or chuckled. But you felt so weird thinking that.

"I'm more na'vi than human?" You were intrigued "What do you mean?" You laughed a bit and he continued on staring at you in an intense manner.

Neteyam heard footsteps approaching, so, he started to move just so he could hide. He did not want any other human but you seeing him. He knew he could not trust them as he could trust you.

"Wait! Where are you -" before you could finish your words, he was already gone.

The brown wooden door behind you opened and Derek appeared carrying a pile of plates in his arms.

"Hey, cutie." He walked towards the sink, leaving the dirty dishes there to be washed by himself when he would be back in the kitchen.

"Hi, Derek." You smiled faintly. You were still recovering from that odd interaction you had with Neteyam Sully.

Derek came close to your ear and whispered:

"Feel like meeting me tonight? I miss you." You sighed

"I don't know... I'm not really in the mood, sorry." You answered, uninterested

He got a little surprised by your answer and moved his eyebrows up, making wrinkles appear in his forehead but quickly remembered he had much work to do outside, so, he walked towards the door and got out of the room without saying another word to you.

Neteyam was still out there, next to the window, leaning against the wall. He was listening to the conversation the whole time. He had to use all the self control he learned to have with the years to not hiss when he heard that human call you "cutie" and ask if you wanted to meet him tonight. Who was he, anyway? And why was he saying he missed you? Neteyam had never seen you show any sign that he was your mate before. He had to find out what was going on. Neteyam would not let anyone get between the both of you. It would not be a weak human male that would be the obstacle that would make him give up on his future mate. He was used to challenges and was not afraid of another one. That would probably even be fun. Neteyam could imagine that tiny mate of yours shivering in fear when he showed him his big, sharp fangs.

Neteyam decided he was gonna find out who the hell that mate of yours was. He was sure he was not better than him. That human male would never be as strong as he was. That human would never be able to hunt fresh food for you, walking through the forests of Pandora and confronting big, dangerous animals, like Neteyam would. He knew he outbraved that human. He could never be a good mate to you like Neteyam could be. You deserved better than him.

༊⁀➷

Taglist:

@xylianasblog @samistars @crazy4books1 @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @explosiongamora @lik0 @your-girl-mj @darktyrantwinner @xxunnie @sereisstuff @yeosxxx @die4niyahhh @henhouse-horrors @lala-1516 @iman-lu @manumanulau @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @hana-yuri

I tagged some of you that did not ask to be tagged but left really cute comments on the last chapter that made my heart feel warm 💓 if u don't wanna be tagged, just lemme know

Also, if someone wants to be added to the taglist too just leave a comment below saying that 🤍

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justauthoring · 1 year

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BLUE LOCK BOYS - CLICHE ROMANCE TROPES

includes: bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin all x fem!reader

warnings: kissing? there’s nothing really.

BACHIRA MEGURU - “you’re way out of my league”

Sometimes, he could hardly believe it himself.

Sure, he heard the whispers in the halls – felt the eyes on his back as the two of you walked, always hand in hand. You were none the wiser, a constant beaming smile on your lips that hadn’t seemed to falter even a little since the two of you started dating. Bachira liked that you didn’t know, it reassured him that you didn’t feel the same even though the thought had crossed his mind plenty of times before.

Late at night, when everyone else was asleep and he couldn’t help but wonder – but why me?

Everyone else was wondering it, some people even had the guts to blatantly say it to his face.

She’s too good for you.

You do realize she’s way out of your league, right?

How’d you even manage to get her?

Bachira had never been good with people. He’d spent most of his life alone and he’d be damned if he let random people, at this point in his life, ruin the best thing that had happened to him. You were everything to him, Bachira loved you beyond what he thought he was capable of. And he liked to tell you every day, shout it to anyone that would listen – mainly you – and he’d never once doubted his feelings for you.

But eventually it just got to be too much.

“Why do you even like me?”

The words slip past his lips before he can stop them, his mind too slow to register what he’s said until you’ve heard the words. He mentally cringes at the look on your face, watching as your eyes widen and your lips part. There’s this expression that flickers onto your face, you almost look hurt?

“What do you mean, ‘Guru?”

“I mean,” and he hates the way the words get stuck at the back of his throat.

What does he mean?

“Why me?”

Your head tilts to the side, eyes blinking, and Bachira can’t help but notice just how adorable you look in that moment.

“Because you’re you, Meguru,” you say simply, shrugging your shoulders as if the answer was plain as day. Like there wasn’t even a doubt in your mind. “Because you’re sweet and really handsome. You constantly make me laugh, and you’re so warm and inviting. You make my insides feel like jelly because I can barely contain myself around you. You never fail to make me feel loved, and I love how cuddly you are and–should I go on?”

Bachira doesn’t fluster easily, but the bright red of his cheeks in undeniable.

“No, no, that’s enough.”

Frowning, you reach across the table, taking his hand in your own. “What made you think that?”

Shrugging, Bachira uses his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck, suddenly feeling entirely too bashful. “Dunno,” he mumbles quietly, “just think you’re too good for me sometimes.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

Blinking, Bachira glances up at you at your words, a small smile curling onto his lips as you shuffle in your seat, shaking your head. “If anything, you’re too good for me.”

His eyes widen, lips parting for emphasis; “absolutely not.”

“It’s true!”

“Is not!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Nope!”

“Then, I’m not too good for you either, kay?”

Smiling softly, Bachira lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, sure,” he grins, “okay.”

NAGI SEISHIRO - “i can’t stand you.” “i want to kiss you.”

You couldn’t stand him.

God, he was so… annoying!

Standing there with that stupid lazy grin of his, entirely too happy about the situation you’d been forced into. If you’d known that volunteering for an after school project would involve being forced to spend the next two hours with him – you never would’ve done it. You would rather d*e before being forced to simply be in the same room as him.

But the matter of the fact is you didn’t really have much of a choice.

You’d left it to the last minute and you knew your teacher wouldn’t let you back out of this. Especially since you couldn’t really afford to given you needed the credits.

You’d just have to suck it up for the day.

It was only one day.

“Just… you stay over there and I’ll stay here, okay?” You huff, brushing a strand of hair out of your face angrily as you turn, practically stomping over to the corner of the library to get started on the pile of books that first needed to be sorted. Nagi doesn’t say anything in response, but he’s a man of few words anyways so you don’t really think anything of it.

Except when suddenly there’s a shadow next to you.

“Nagi,” you sigh, “did I not just tell you to stay over there?”

He simply shrugs; “got bored.”

You narrow your eyes, lips parting to say something until you notice the fact that he’s literally not doing anything. He’s just… standing there. A quick glance behind you to where he’d been tells you he hadn’t really started anything over there either.

“You can at least help.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Body tensing, it takes all of your will not to strangle him then and there.

“We’re supposed to be tidying up the library,” you remind, quirking a brow at him.

“It’s more fun watching,” he says plainly. “Besides, it’s too much work.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He simply grins at you.

Sighing, your shoulders fall with defeat. “Just… stay out of my way, okay?”

He just nods.

It goes on like that for the first twenty minutes before Nagi suddenly decides to no longer simply be quiet and unhelpful, but just unhelpful. A moan of boredom leaves his lips almost every few seconds, your name falling from his lips every few minutes, whining at you for ignoring him.

“Y/L/N! Y/L/N~!”

Slamming the book in your hands down on the table, creating an echoing thud, you turn to him. “What?”

“I’m bored.”

“Then leave.”

“I can’t. I need the credits.”

“Then help me.”

“Too much work.”

“Nagi, I swear to God, if–”

Your words come to a sudden halt when you turn, prepared to tell him off, only he’s not sitting in the chair across from you anymore and instead directly in front of you. He’s close, incredibly close, you can feel his breath on you as he stands chest to chest with you. It feels like you can’t breathe, him being this close, a flush flooding to your cheeks as you move to stumble back, only to feel the back of your legs hit the table.

There’s nowhere for you to go.”

And he’s entirely too close. You don’t like having him this close.

Nagi being this close means you can smell his cologne, that’s entirely too sweet to you, and can feel the warmth radiating off of him. If you just reached out, you could grab him and that brings a flutter to your chest at the thought.

You don’t want to even dare look up – because if you did, you’d see how inviting and plump his pink, perfect lips look and–

“I have an idea of what we can do instead.”

Eyes focused on his uniform jacket, you let out a shaky breath.

“W-What?”

The tips of his fingers fall under your jaw, guiding your gaze up and on him. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest as you meet his eyes, usually so dull and bored-looking, suddenly looking entirely too lustful and invested.

There’s a moment of pause before suddenly his lips are pressing against your own.

It’s warm and it’s nauseating how good it feels to have his lips pressed against your own. It’s everything you’ve spent the good chunk of the past year trying to avoid thinking about because you were supposed to hate Nagi and yet, you feel like putty in his hands right now.

Then, as he pulls away, his lips curl into a knowing smirk as your eyes lazily glance up to meet his.

“That.”

ITOSHI RIN - “i mean, it’s not all bad with you.”

“This is your fault.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at Rin’s monotone tone.

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “It’s my fault we’re trapped in the janitor's closet.”

“It is.”

Huffing, you glare up at him. “How exactly is it my fault?”

“If it wasn’t for you, this never would’ve happened.”

“Because the great and mighty Itoshi Rin would never be caught stuck in a closet, correct?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re an idiot.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest, pressing your back further into the wall to greaten what little bit of space there is between you and Rin. You’d texted Isagi a minute after the door had locked shut behind you, so you only hoped that it wouldn’t take him much longer to get here and set you free. You could barely handle being this close to Rin on a regular basis and being forced into such a small space with him was making it harder to think.

You’d had a huge crush on Rin since the moment you met him. His suave, cool-headed and somewhat emotionless behavior had caught your attention almost immediately. Over time, you’d gotten to see the small bits of Rin that he kept protected behind that wall of his, slipping in the odd and rare few moments the two of you had shared.

You knew Rin liked you, more than he liked more. You knew he thought of you as a friend.

But you knew he didn’t like you.

You’d sworn to keep your feelings to yourself, refusing to let them ruin the relationship you’d worked hard to build with the reserved boy.

Which is why being stuck in a very small, very cramped closet was not ideal.

There was barely a breaths away between the two of you. You could feel his chest pressing into your own, and if you simply glance up you’d see every little detail of his face that you loved so much. Simply looking from a far was hard enough, you didn’t think you could last much longer in here.

“Ugh, where’s Isagi?”

Rin’s eyes snap to yours. “You texted him?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “he said he’d let us out.”

Rin frowns, and your brows furrow in confusion.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, Rin avoids your gaze; “nothing.”

“No, there’s something–” You pause in revelation, “oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Isagi won’t say anything if you’re afraid of him embarrassing you. I won’t either.”

Licking his lips slowly (a sigh that has your heart racing), Rin sighs; “that isn’t it.”

“Then what is it?”

Pursing his lips, Rin hesitates; “I… there’s no rush.”

“No rush to get out of the closet?”

He shrugs.

“I mean, I’d rather not be stuck here all day and–”

“It’s nice… to be here with you.” If it wasn’t so dark, you’d see his cheeks are bright red. “I’m okay if it’s with you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“That’s it?”

You don’t know what to say!

“I-I mean,” you stammer slightly, almost positive Rin can hear the hammering of your heart in the quiet of the closet. “I like being in here with you too.”

The corner of his lips curve upwards ever so slightly, and in the next second, the touch of his fingers hitting your own registers in your mind before he threads his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagine #bllk #bllk x reader #bachira meguru #bachira meguru x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader

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manicrouge · 3 months

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Christmas Comfort

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 09/02/24)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3.3k

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot). I want all of my stories to be on the same blog so I apologise for the repost.

ANYWAY !! ENJOY !!

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve.

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground.

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces?

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one.

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better.

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention.

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice.

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before.

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces. ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours.

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul.

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him.

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen.

All of it can wait. But he can’t.

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him.

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips.

Mum <3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type.

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least.

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade.

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side.

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath.

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows.

Two goldfish are in a tank…

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you.

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I'm proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

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eamour · 1 year

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fearing the feeling.

everybody talks about fulfilling yourself, living in the end and feeling it real… but what if that’s actually what you fail to do? what if this seems too difficult for you? what if… you fear the feeling of having what you want? in this post, i want to simply remind you of the basics again and make you become aware of the fantastic spiritual, infinite being that you are. :,)

it’s your reality.

whatever scares you right now, remember, it’s your own creation! you can defeat it, not by fighting it but by not fearing it (thank you edward art). see, "fighting" the feeling suggests that the feeling is something outside of you, an enemy that you have no control over, whatsoever. but actually starting to not fear your feelings anymore means to understand that it is your creation. you can create (!) or erase (!) them. you need to finally comprehend that you are the one holding yourself back and that you can, at all times, stop getting in your own way.

no need for physical action.

speaking of your (physical) reality, you don’t need to do anything in order to feel the feeling. you don’t need to fear nor resist it. you don’t need to do a sacrifice, you don’t need to do a ritual — you simply need to overcome your fear. you need to surpass your worries and doubts.

it’s your imagination.

your imagination is yours. it’s your home, your safe space, your wonderful human imagination. no one can look into it, no one can judge it, no one can disturb it — it’s your secret little place in your mind where the most beautiful things happen. and your imagination is you. it "does" whatever you "do", meaning, it will think whatever you think. it’s not apart from yourself. you don’t have to treat it like a separate higher feature of your brain that might or might not grant you your desires.

feel free to feel.

dare to live in your imagination. i can promise you, no one is going to complain, or be mad, or accuse you of committing a crime against humanity. this is your imagination, your world, your mind, your rules — you have the damn right to think of whatever you want and know that it to be true, whenever you want it. feel free, feel save in your imagination. it’s your superpower! it’s yours, and no one can take it. just "taste the feeling just for a moment and see there is nothing to fear" as edward art would say.

trust yourself.

for once, trust yourself. trust your power and rely on it. know that everything will work out just fine, just the way you wanted, just in your favour. i know this might take a lot of courage, but we need to step out of our comfort zones sometimes, right? this way, you will learn to take responsibility of how your 3D looks like and can easily identify with it, even with things that do not always work out to your liking. you will learn to trust and to actually understand your power and what you are capable of and will feel less frightened or intimidated by outer circumstances once you encounter them!

still scared ?

if you can’t help but still feel scared, that’s totally fine! let your emotions flow through you and take some time to relax. once you feel better, you are free to try a meditation. the purpose of this is to practice and to dare — practicing to feel the feeling of having what you always wanted and simply daring to do so. :-)

"for once" meditation by edward art !

with love, ella.

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angelicglib · 5 months

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‧₊✩ Christmas Comfort ✩₊‧

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 28/12/23)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3,252

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is my first story here, please be kind I beg <3 also very sorry for this but I had the idea and thought it would be quite a bittersweet story for the holiday season !!

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve.

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better.

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’

‘Soundly, Lt.’

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

All of it can wait. But he can’t.

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips.

Mum <3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

You hold your breath.

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows.

Two goldfish are in a tank…

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you.

‘Are you sure—‘

‘I proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

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citrus-simp · 2 years

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A/N: So based off of this blurb here, I wanted to elaborate more on king Bakugou with his pregnant queen. (Idc if there has been a fic I’ve made about this I like Bakugou as a father and pregnant fics are fluffy and comfort)

ANYWAY-

__________________________________________

So after being nagged by advisors about having an heir Bakugou uh....took care of it

literally

Now you've missed 2 periods and you're more than sure you were pregnant. In addition to the constant tiredness, and morning sickness. Bakugou being the prideful king he was wanted to be the one to help you in the early months.

Holding your hair back, tucking you in bed, even making your food. Now he may be the king but the only person he would cook for is you himself and now your baby.

Once it was confirmed by the medic, Bakugou had to step out of the room for a moment while they spoke to you.

This was just an heir to the thrown this was his child. And he would be damned if he let them be treated only as an heir and not his pride and joy. The same thing went for you, he couldn't feel more pride knowing you were the mother of his child.

You thought he was protective before?? You haven't seen anything yet! it bumped up from a 10 to a 10000000.

He loved to watch you grow and sometimes he would stare at you in awe knowing what you and your body were capable of. This was your first child together so he was hoping all will go well

He would inspect the castle to make sure nothing was in your way to harm you.

"Katsuki you don't need the stairs taken away-"

"Oh yes I do, I'll go to hell before I let you go down any stairs" he answered back

"...katsuki its 3 steps"

"I don't care!"

He loved to wake up in the morning and watch as his stomach rose and fell. But it didn't fall completely flat. for the first few months there was a small bump, almost like bloating, but after about 3 months it started to round more. It only made Bakugou fall even harder for you

He would look at you and just wonder about it. The baby, its growth, who they'd look like who they'd act like, everything

Every now and then he'll wrap you in his arms and whisper a gentle thank you

"you both mean more than any gold I could ever have. I love you"

"awh katsuki" you'd say tearing up

While you were coming closer to the months of just bed rest he had the best midwives and doctors he could find in the village. He had them live in the castle at least until it was time for the baby to be born

He had already known women go through a great ordeal in life and childbirth was part of many. He couldn't bare your pain or take it away but he could help you. For once he had set his pride aside and asked to be taught all about childbirth and what he could do to help

he loves you....very much

"Teach me how this will all go down and what shit I have to do for her." he had his own unique way of asking for help. The doctor was in charge of scientific childbirth and the midwives told him how he can console and comfort you through labor.

he spent about 2 hours there

and he came out a new man with new knowledge. He wasn't the pregnant one and he was terrified. The labor was separate from actual birth and could go on for hours

birth wasn't fun either

and the months of recovery would not be easy either. In some ways, he felt regret for getting you pregnant and now he could only watch you through pain when the time came.

However, the midwives assured him that if he held your hand, encouraged you, and helped you in whatever way he needed, you would appreciate it even more.

While he snuggled you in bed he said "I learned some new information today. Just know that I'm grateful...for everything" he said cradling your bump

When the day finally came, he was there from the first light contraction to the very strongest. He would even see how your stomach contracted, but he knew the worst was yet to come

He had to admit it hurt him more knowing that you were in pain until this was over. Ignoring the pain in his hand from your squeezing. He wiped the sweat from your face, he held you while you let all your weight rest on him, he massaged any sore spots, he kissed your head to try and comfort you

"I know it hurts...but you're strong, you've got this" "that's it, it's almost over" "you're doing great, I'm right here" "good job, just one more push, you're so close"

After it was all done, a scream was finally heard, and the room fell silent.

It was a boy (:

The midwives cleaned him up while Bakugou kissed and congratulated you

"You did so good Y/N, I-I don't know how you pulled through all of that but you did amazing," he said kissing your forehead

The crying had died down while he was getting washed up making Bakugou look over, you squeezed his hand and said "Go see him" you urged him

he was a bit nervous to see him up close but his feet move without thought "your majesty, your son" said the midwife handing his baby over to him wrapped warmly in a blanket

"h-hey there...I'm your...your dad bud.." he was starstruck "He looked like him but he looked more like you. He even had his pout only being minutes old "let's go and see mommy yeah?"

"look at him babe....you did amazing," he said as teared up, handing you the small and delicate bundle. You couldn't fathom the amount of love you felt at that moment. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life

"Hello, sweetheart...I'm your mommy" you sniffed as tears blurred your vision. Bakugou crawled into the bed with you and gently touched the hair on his head. His eyes open up to showcase his bright crimson eyes, just like his father

"Y/N..." he called for your attention "you are nothing short of a goddess. I won't lie to you I was scared through the entire process, but you pulled through so strongly I...just..thank you...thank you so much" he said kissing your forehead

#domestic bakugou #dragon king bakugou #king bakugou #bakugou x reader #king Bakugou x reader #anime #bnha x fem!reader #bnha fantasy au #bnha x reader #bnha x pregnant reader #dad bakugou

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baby-jaguar · 7 months

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CoD Western AU and Mail Order Spouse Trope

Howdy!

Welcome to my version of a Wild West AU & Mail-Order Spouse Trope. Introduction of the reader scenario will be down below and a little digital art will be added in to show our lovely options of spouses. This is Gender Neutral.

This was my first Au and trope project I’ve worked on. While I learn and decide how I want to upload this, I hope everyone enjoys or just gets a kick out of this!

Introduction & Backstory

Your life wasn’t awful, per se, but sometimes you wonder if you say that to yourself to cope with what you’ve been through. Simply put, you were your family's breadwinner, caretaker, and damage controller. You were poor-ish, where you had to use scraps of fabrics to make your clothes, but yet your father could always afford a bottle to be in his hand, and your mother out on the porch smoking whatever she needed that day to cope and try to be a mom and wife.

Coat of many colors indeed.

You worked, and you have worked from a young age to continuously support your family as you didn't have a choice if you wanted to keep the roof over your head. Although, you were thankful that your mother was adamant you went to the schoolhouse and got at least a good amount of education.

After attending school for a few years until puberty, you were in the working class; your job as a domestic servant included the taste of farmhand, tailoring, and working to cann fruits that were grown on the farm. After a long shift on the warm and humid spring day, you walked back home to hear your father yelling as usual but stopped when you heard your name being spoken.

“As soon as we sell that damn nuisance, we’ll be rolling in dough. I can’t believe that damn bastard politician wants our kin. Said once he’s back from his campaign up north he’ll come meet ‘em.” He laughs before taking another swig of his drink, your mother laughing along with him as she has a lit pipe in the house for the first time in a long time.

Now, you to truly understand the depravity of this; the seriousness of her celebrating with a lit drug inside the house.

Your stomach drops, nausea rolling over you at the thought of them selling you off to the old and decrepit wealthy politician for marriage to get money. Money that they’ll blow through, having never learned to control their vices turned addictions.

A cold sweat breaks out on you as you swallow down the urge to expel the minimal amount of food in your worn-out body, and promptly turn around and walk back into town.

Walking the dark streets, you navigate quietly and hide behind the shadows of the night with only a few dimly lit light posts flickering their oil flame light. While walking the edge of the closed shops, you see a dirty newspaper thrown on the ground and almost step over it until a small headline catches your eye.

“FRONTIER MEN, LOOKING FOR CAPABLE SPOUSE”

Your eyes scan quickly over the matrimony company advertising for men located in the frontier lands, each searching for promising spouses and wanting to marry soon. You read over the information, seeing that the listed men below are located in newly booming towns out west, a few even located in mining towns or having their own company.

Your body zings with a chill of adrenaline at the thought of diving head first into chance and change, but you knew something much better could be awaiting you…

Should you do it?

looking around, the humid and small town looks back at you as you enter a hardened state of mind; What would become if you stayed here? The disgusting politician's new toy just to break? Your parents are already planning on how to drain their funds dry within a month of letting their addictions take over? You don't have friends, your boss is the closest thing to one just because you spend hours each and every day working.

Yeah.

You're gonna fucking do it.

Taking a seat, your eyes quickly scan down the page of advertisements, looking over the small blurbs of descriptions offered. The correspondence cost would be 10 cents, meaning you have one chance to get his attention and get the new life you need.

Simon Riley Biography, Meeting Simon,

John Price Biography, Meeting John

Kyle Garrick Biography, Meeting Kyle

John MacTavish Biography, Meeting Johnny

Phillip Graves Biography, Meeting Phillip

Alejandro Vargas Biography, Meeting Alejandro

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cleromancy · 6 months

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one thing i think people miss when trying to nail down the like nitty gritty of like-- okay. so post-crisis post-resurrection Jason's a hypocrite, right? and hes purposely fancast himself as the villain opposite bruce in utrh.

but also even while Jason's doing this he *has a point,* and he *knows it.* Jasons got a lot of big moral ideas hes spouting, and from what we see, he mostly only abides by *some* of them. so while you're like acknowledging that utrh/lost days jay is motivated by his emotions and doesn't act in ways that align with his moral principles, but also he *keeps bringing **up** those moral principles*, you start to wonder like. What the hell is going on in that big brain of yours jay.

and what i was getting at. the thing i think most people miss or forget when exploring that. is jasons appearance in outsiders 2003.

im looking through the tpb so im not giving you the exact issue numbers for any of these panels sorry but its 44-46 plus the annual.

but here is the crux of the matter:

cutting for length!!

so whats going on here in outsiders! is that black lightning, aka Jefferson pierce, aka anissa pierces dad and one of the few really good dads in the dcu, got (basically) framed for murder by deathstroke; believed he (accidentally) actually did the murder; eventually turned himself in to serve his time in prison.

jason happens across this information entirely by accident, and goes out of his way to deliver that information to dickie, who has an on-again off-again relationship with being the leader of the outsiders at this point in time. and im just going to post a lot of it, both bc i like it and also so you see what Jason was going against JUST TO DELIVER THIS INFORMATION:

skipping the first page to save images but jason asks dick to meet up with him in Gotham; the next pages:

im skipping a bit of really enjoyable fighting after that as well but pls know its there. jason asked dick to meet up and dick fully said okay ill come to your rendez-vous *just* to beat the shit out of you. and he was so valid for that. but this aint about him so lets get back to jason:

why does jason bring this up + how does Jason come by this information? well

ok. now youre as caught up as dick is.

some times fools and jackanapes say to me. but sisky why would jason do this and bring this information to dick. why would he try to break black lightning out of prison. why would he do such a thing when he is a known knave, neer do well, scoundrel, etc. to which i say HE TOLD YOU!!! HE TOLD YOU WHY HE DID IT

JASON FUCKING VALUES THE *GOOD GUYS.*

(and also sidenote. winick is writing this so we have to assume he knows how competent and resourceful jason can be bc... as the guy who defined the character after his resurrection... he *made him that way.* so based on utrh we have to assume both that 1) jason could have pulled this prison break off solo and 2) jason *knows* he could pull it off solo...

but he also knows he's a Bad Guy now, and he realizes that *if* he sprung black lightning hed just fucking! turn himself back in! so jadon needs to convince some big goddamn heroes to do it....

so he goes to dick.)

((and also secondary sidenote. willis todd canoncially spent enough time in and out of prison that jason assumed hed wound up back there without telling him or catherine before she died and jason wound up squatting, and he only found out otherwise when he read the entry on the batcomputer on two-face.))

the point is. jason has a *lot* of moral ideas he is not, at this point in time, capable of living by for a variety of Jason Reasons, ill do more meta on that some other time. so he's inhabiting the bad guy role, but sometimes he keeps slipping and falling and accidentally caring about things, and...

god damn it dick, black lightning is one of the *good* guys. like *you're* one of the good guys. aren't you going to fucking help him??

i will probably elaborate on this more in the future as well. i just need to hit send rn LOL

#jason todd #dc #text #outsiders #meta

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sheriffgrimes-archerdixon · 1 year

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Harmful words

Warnings: arguments, shouting, cruel words

Request: hi!! I was wondering whether you could do one when Daryl snaps at the reader whom is like a daughter to him and she sees him as a father figure and they get into an argument that causes issues and he says things he regrets please? Thank you. (A/n this’ll be written during the prison era)

Someone better take my phone away from me the amount of sad twd drafts I’ve got saved is becoming concerning 😭🤣

“I’m sorry okay,”

Your words were weak and tired as Daryl stood in front of you, crossbow hung just over his shoulder “sorry isn’t going to cut it y/n. You could’ve been killed-“ “well I wasn’t.” Your words were harsh as you glared into his eyes “please stop treating me like a goddamn kid! I’m sick of it… you hear me? Sick of it! All of it!”

He looked at you a hurt expression lingering in his eyes “what the fuck y/n?”

“Stop treating me like your god damn daughter! I’m not your kid! I’m just someone you rely on since you can’t do shit yourself!” You yelled, you didn’t mean it. They were just words. Angry words that you couldn’t even comprehend as you failed to notice the growing anger and sadness forming on his face “you’re right.” He spoke disgust visible on his face as he began shaking his head “you aren’t my daughter,” he continued shaking his head “and I sure as hell ain’t your dad.”

His words caused your breath to hitch as you stared off into space your eyes full of sadness before you looked down, Daryl didn’t mean to be so harsh- regret immediately forming on his face. You didn’t think he would go that far, you were just angry and it upset you that he would even say something like that. You had gone on a run, a risky run at that but it wasn’t your fault you wanted to get things for the group but you knew Daryl was protective over you so it was most definitely a stupid decision. You knew it would cause an argument but didn’t the groups lives matter more than yours?

“I- I didn’t mean to say that y/n…” he spoke and your eyes flicked to him a saddened expression on your face “I’m not Merle, I’m more than capable of saving myself and not getting killed. Okay? Get off my back for once yeah? I just want to support the group! Don’t you get that? It isn’t just us anymore!” You raised your voice as Daryl’s breathing became heavier his eyes narrowing as a slight worry and sadness consumed his face but he didn’t say anything he just stayed quiet “we’ve got to support Rick! Beth! Carl! And Judith, she cannot live without baby formula! What do you expect me to do? Just sit around here on my ass all day when I can go and get supplies for everyone!” Your voice was raw with emotion anger in your eyes. You knew Daryl meant no harm, he was only protective over you but sometimes it felt overbearing- overwhelming- as if you were walking on eggshells whenever you went out. It was as if he didn’t believe you could protect yourself.

“I know damn well we need to go get supplies but that don’t mean you should go out there risking your life! We go in groups! Not as individuals!” He shouted, raising his voice his hands moving about a lot as he talked a lot of his emotions through his hands. “And I know you ain’t Merle but that isn’t the point! You’re the last part of me that I’ve got! I cant lose you as well if I lose you then what the hell is the point of living anymore, huh?” His words cut into your heart harshly and you closed your mouth, falling silent as you shook your head “haven’t got an answer because you know damn well if you weren’t here I’d be dead!” And that’s when you snapped walking up to him getting in his face “don’t patronise me. Don’t you dare. Don’t put your life in my hands…. Just don’t.”

Daryl wanted to say so much more his eyes full of pain but before he even could Glenn quickly moved in between the both of you “c’mon just stop this. There’s kids here. Stop shouting…” he said desperate as he held his hands out to you and Daryl as if trying to keep you both away from each other. “What’s happened?” Glenn spoke trying to sort everything out and you looked at Daryl who was now pacing back and forth “y/n goin’ on that supply run alone… could’ve gotten killed. Stupid decision.” He spat out and Glenn listened as you scoffed rolling your eyes. You loved Daryl a lot, he protected you when you couldn’t protect yourself but you didn’t want him not believing in the fact you could protect yourself.

Glenn went to say something but a different voice spoke up “I have to agree with Daryl on this one.” You looked at Rick as you frowned but he held his hand up to you telling you silently to remain quiet instead of inputting your opinion “if Carl had gone out there-“ “Carl is a kid. I am an adult.” You cut Rick off, an unimpressed look forming on the older man’s face “if Carl had gone out there I would’ve had the same reaction as Daryl. What you did was charitable, good work- yes, but risky as hell… what happened if you got bit, hm?” You remained silent as you stared down at the ground. Hearing it from another person made you realise that maybe you were being slightly too harsh. You sighed quietly as you ran a hand over your face,

“We don’t need another fight breaking out so please solve this quickly.” Rick spoke calmly but it was as if he was ordering the both of you to make up and as he and glenn left the room Daryl continued pacing back and forth whilst you stayed still. “I’m sorr-“ he started but you cut him off “no. I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful. I was being an ass” you said softly as the archer smiled slightly at you his eyes growing softer as he walked closer to you wrapping an arm around you as he pulled you into his side as you hugged him tightly “forgive and forget?” He asked and you nodded your head “forgive and forget.”

~~~

You sat on the table in the prison eating some chocolate pudding from a small can, everyone else was eating some food and Daryl was holding Judith in his arms holding a bottle of milk to her lips as she drank, everyone else ate as much as they wanted to your attention soon turning towards Beth as she nudged you nodding towards Carl.

You looked towards the kid noticing how he was eyeing up the can of pudding in your hand, he had fruit but didn’t seem to be too interested in it. “Eat up,” Rick spoke quietly to Carl but you quickly stepped in “trade?” You questioned sliding the can of pudding over to the boy who’s face and demeanour immediately lit up as he began eating the pudding, you reached over getting the fruit as you began eating the canned fruit Rick nodding slightly at you in a silent way to say thank you and all you did was smile. They were family. You’d do anything for them.

As night drew closer, the sun going back into hiding you made your way to your cell climbing up onto your top bunk as you exhaled. You shared a room with Daryl- he slept on the bottom bunk and you slept on the top. As you laid down you felt a sudden vibration against the bottom of the bunk making you jump in fright a chuckle falling from Daryl’s lips as he stared up at the mattress “sorry,” he said and you let out a little laugh “it’s fine… you know you preach on about people not sneaking up on you yet you sneak up on us all the time.” You laughed out and a small smile remained on his lips “oh shut up,” he spoke playfully and you rolled onto your side as he continued talking to you, the sound of him talking easing you into a tired mindset as you began relaxing “you warm enough?” He suddenly asked and you hummed in affirmation “enough pillows? You can have mine if you want.” He offered. He did this every night and you always said no. “I’m fine, really.” You spoke and he sighed gently “alright..” he laid back down onto the hard bunk resting his arms under his head “sleep well…” he knew once you hadn’t responded that you were flat out and he smiled slightly,

“I love you sunshine.”

#twd #daryl dixon #x reader #daryl x sister reader #Daryl x daughter reader #comfort #the prison twd #prison #rick grimes #glenn rhee #mention of characters #twd imagines #judith grimes #xreader #yn x daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon twd #rick grimes twd

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angelicglibsss · 5 months

Text

Christmas Comfort

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] [ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 [ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3,252

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is my first story here, please be kind I beg <3 also very sorry for this but I had the idea and thought it would be quite a bittersweet story for the holiday season !!

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Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve.

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better.

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’

‘Soundly, Lt.’

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

All of it can wait. But he can’t.

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips.

Mum <3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Choosing has never easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least.

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

You hold your breath.

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows.

Two goldfish are in a tank…

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you.

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,’ he confesses. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’

‘I proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

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#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #angst with a happy ending #ghost cod #cod simon riley #cod simon ghost riley #cod mw3 #mw2 #modern warfare #female reader #simon riley x you

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fieldofdaisiies · 6 months

Text

I Like You

ship: Elucien type: angst word count: 2,6k warnings: none summary: Elain decides that she is ready to make a move towards Lucien. And yes, it is a bit sad. [read on ao3]

"His name is Lucien." "I don't care what his name is…You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?" "It means nothing. I don't care who decided it or why they did-" "You belong to him." "I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you." "I don't want it."

Do you even know what that means?

Does Elain know?

It does not mean that she belongs to him. She is not Lucien's possession and though Grayson would have never believed that, Elain knows it is true (it has taken her a while as well to understand).

Lucien would never claim her without her consent, he would never make her his, call her his, without her wanting to. He would break the bond, just so she could be happy. He would do all of that, just for her. Just for her to find happiness. Because Lucien…Lucien is a good male. Lucien is…good. He is so very good in his heart and soul. So good.

Elain leans against the cool windowsill, her figure framed by the muted light filtering through the rain-slicked glass. Her gaze moves to the garden below — her garden. Where there used to be beautiful, flourishing flowers and plants in spring and summer, there is now a grey cast to the light. The lush green leaves of the trees have turned red, orange, and yellow, they glisten with raindrops, the landscape behind them grey. Autumn.

Although it is the season where plants and flowers go to sleep, rest, and sometimes wither, it isn't her least favourite season. It is quite the opposite actually. She likes autumn, yes, so very much. It is when nature shows, just like in spring, what it is capable of and it mesmerises her. It astonishes her.

As she looks out into the garden, she contemplates the withered roses. Is she one of them? A flower that once bloomed so happily, but now is empty of joy and life. Are the roses a reflection of her own fading hope and happiness?

Elain draws in a deep breath and wonders. How did her joy and contentment turn into such bitterness and made this deep void appear in her chest where once her steadily beating heart used to be?

The questions weigh heavily on her, a burden to her omce joyful soul.

For such a long time, she blamed the loss of her happiness on a male who had absolutely no fault in her misery. It wasn't Lucien who betrayed her and her sisters. It wasn't Lucien who forced the mating bond on her. It wasn't Lucien who—

Lucien had absolutely nothing to do with it, and he also can't change anything about the situation she is in. The only person to change something is Elain herself. She can change something. She knows this now and it has taken her a damn long time to realise that.

She knows she hasn't been fair to him — to her mate. Knows that how she acted around him was not alright.

The rain intensifies for a moment, and she watches as it beats against the glass of the window.

Elain wonders if he ever thinks of her, or how often he does. How much he is affected by her actions, if he is just as…sad as her. As empty as her…

The mating bond inside of her is dim, robbed of life, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It is there, and it connects their souls. And she now knows that just like herself, Lucien was forced into this. He would have never chosen her if he had had a choice…

A sudden gust of wind that rattles the branches outside fetches her back to the moment, inside her cool room. She blows out a long breath.

He is here for a few days, she knows this, and she will take this chance to finally talk to him. She can't avoid talking to him forever. What sense would it make? It would be childish and idiotic if she kept ignoring him until the last day of their immortal life.

They finally have to talk, and maybe this rainy autumn day is perfect for it.

With a heavy sigh, she turns away from the window, her heart still heavy with sorrow and also shame. The rain continues to fall as she walks away from the window, feet a little heavy. She slowly, so very slowly, slips out of the door, not minding that she is still only dressed in her nightgown, hair undone, falling over her back in loose waves.

This talk only considers honesty, sincerity, and not her brushing up for it. She doesn’t need to put on a mask, she wants him to see Elain. The real Elain.

She wants to show her true colours to Lucien, put her cards on the table, and finally have the talk with him they should have had months, years, ago.

Outside the door to his office, the one Rhysand has provided Lucien with, she halts, collecting her thoughts. Elain inhales. One deep breath. Then another. And another. Her knuckles are placed on the cool wooden door, but she doesn’t knock, just lets her hand rest there. And that for a while.

She calms her mind, closes her eyes. She can hear it…can hear his heartbeat behind the door. She can feel it, feel him and the rhythm tells her that his own soul is a reflection of hers — cold, empty, sad.

She draws in one last deep breath, and then knocks. The answer comes immediately, and for a moment everything blurs, her head feeling dizzy to the sudden rush of blood in her ears. They are finally going to talk!

She opens the door, slowly, and then steps into the room, immediately being greeted with warmth and the scent of fresh apples and cinnamon.

Lucien is sitting at his desk, his strong back on display for her. He seems like he is very concentrating, not even turning around to see who has knocked on his door.

She looses a breath, gathers all her courage and opens her mouth.

"I know you probably hate me…" Elain starts, her tone a breathy whisper, her voice trembling.

Slowly, Lucien turns in his chair, his brows lying in furrows. He does not answer her immediately, just looks at Elain…at his mate. She is fidgeting with her fingers, gaze downcast, a sad expression on her face. Not only sad, maybe even a little ashamed.

The Vanserra male braces his forearm on the backrest of the chair, and swallowed around the lump that has formed in his throat. She is a picture of misery and he feels a sudden urge to remove all the sadness from her only to see her smile.

"I never said that I hated you."

Her breath catches, her gaze searching his when a kernel of both relief and a hope starts to take root inside her chest. "Well…" Elain releases a short breath. "That is…I actually like you."

At the revelation, Lucien's features soften, so does his gaze, his shoulders relaxing visibly. Once again he says nothing, waits for her to find the right words to continue.

"And I know that I haven’t been fair to you…that from the first moment on I haven't been fair to you. How I acted, what I have said and not said to you, nothing of it was fair. But—"

"You don't need to justify your actions, Elain."

Elain. The word, her name, reverberates through her mind, his voice so soft when he said it, like it is the most beautiful thing in the world. Like there is beauty within her name. And hope. Like he likes saying her name.

"I didn't blame you for your actions, and I would never do so. What had been done to you, turning you into fae, ripping you away from your old life…that is what wasn't fair. It wasn't just."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the Vanserra male rises from his chair, only taking a few steps towards his mate in order to not make her nervous. He doesn’t want her to feel uncomfortable in his presence, he only wants to be a little closer.

Elain runs her eyes over him. He is a beautiful male - the most beautiful she has probably ever seen. But just like his heart, his body is marred by things that happened to him. Unspeakable things. Things she wants to remove from his skin, from his heart, from his mind. She wants to take the pain away from him. Also the pain she caused him. With her indifference. And her ignorance.

"I never meant for anything like this to happen to you. I never meant for us to be mates. I know what it means, and if I—" "Could choose another, you would." Elain swallows thickly. All of a sudden her throat feels very dry, her eyes starting to burn a little.

But Lucien shakes his head. He searches her gaze, hoping that his eyes, sincere and gentle, can convey more than words can speak. "That is not what I meant to say."

Elain holds his gaze, and pulls her lip between her teeth, waiting.

"If I could turn back time and have us meet under different circumstances….I would do it."

It is Elain's turn to furrow her brows. She slowly unclasps her fingers and is now the one who takes a step closer to Lucien. "Under different circumstances we would have never met. You are fae and I am—was mortal."

"I meant if we had met without a mating bond involved."

"You think you would have cared about me without a mating bond?" A deep crease is etched into the centre of Elain's forehead.

"Yes, yes I would have." He is so sure, so sincere, it makes Elain's heart skip a beat, now beating in the same rhythm as his. She can hear it, feel it.

"Why?" she asks, not quite sure about her question, but it leaves her before she can think about it any further.

"Why, you are asking?" A small, barely-there smile appears on the Vanserra male's face. "Because you are wonderful. Delicate and smart. Gentle and observant. You have the purest soul I have every seen, you find beauty in the smallest things. You are calm but not in a bad way. You, only with your presence give me a feeling of comfort and solitude. You make a place feel like home simply with being there. And—don't cry."

The corner of his mouth ticks, one brow raising. Elain quickly brings a hand up, wiping her thumb over her damp cheek.

"How…how can you say all these things, you don't even know me?" Elain asks, her voice a little shaky and breathy.

"I am observant," he says matter-of-factly and whatever small part it is of her heart, it starts to heal.

However, she shakes her head, almost like she can't quite believe his words, like it feels surreal that someone notices these things about her. Everyone has always called her beautiful, delicate, charming, but no one has every truly looked beneath the facade. Until…Lucien.

"And even if there wasn't a mating bond, I would have seen those things. And I would have…liked them about you. You are…I was enchanted by you the first moment I saw you, captured not only by your beauty, but by what is lying beneath. The soul glowing inside of you, the heart beating so vividly for the people you love."

Enchanted. The word reverberates through Elain's mind, and she as well, has to admit, feels enchanted by him. Not only now, she has felt that way for months. Maybe even years.

"I like you." She repeats what she had said at the beginning of their conversation. "Although I've never shown it, although I've ignored you most times. Although I've always been reserved around you, and might have looked intimidated. But it is true, I do like you. A lot, in all honesty."

A warm smile, edging on a smile of relief and hope, graces Lucien's face. He draws in a deep inhale, and slowly releases it. His arm lifts a little, hand extended to Elain. "Come sit with me," he offers, using his other hand to point at his table with one chair and one stool next to it.

Elain accepts, silently, although her movement speaks volumes. She carefully and slowly, lets her hand slide into his. It is so small in Lucien's broad hand, his palm so warm against hers. Her skin so soft, his calluseed.

Their hands fit together perfectly, almost like they were made for each other. And probably they were — they are mate's after all.

The first connection of their hands elicits a sparkly, tingly feeling where their skins touch, both of them feeling it. A small noise of surprise leaves Elain, and she turns her head, looking up at the male beside her. He is so tall, his shoulders so strong, his body nothing but sculpted muscles, but in no way does he seem intimidating. Quite the opposite actually — it makes her feel safe, secure, protected.

Lucien must have noticed her gazing, he stops and turns to look at her. She is so short compared to him, even on her tip-toes she will barely reach his shoulder. Nevertheless her radiant presence fills the whole room.

"Are you alright?"

"Didn't you feel it?"

Lucien is unsure of what she is aiming at.

"The sparks," Elain adds, her cheeks gaining a little bit of colour. She bites down on her lower lip, wanting to avert her gaze, but she doesn't. She keeps eye-contact with him, getting lost in the depth of his eyes — one of russet and one of metal.

"The sparks?" Lucien repeats, a hint of amusement in his voice. But it fades the moment, a small pout appears on Elain's lips. She is thinking he is mocking her. It wasn't his intention.

"I felt it, my lady. I did." He is voice is stern now, sincere, and conveys everything needed to ease her frustration. And it is the truth. He feels tingly sensation as well!

"And your heart, my lady. I can heart it. Beating rather fast."

"That's what you do to me." Elain wants to slam her hand over her mouth, her traitorous brain making her speak before her mind gets a chance to think. "I mean—I meant—"

But Lucien shakes his head, moving their clasped hands up and over his own heart. He places her palm flat onto his chest, nothing but corded muscles beneath his linen shirt. His own palm is placed atop hers, and when Elain's mind finally comes to a rest, she can feel it. She can feel his heart, beating quickly but steadily, in the same rhythm as hers. She allows herself to close her eyes, relishing in the feel of him, the warmth his body radiates, his shallow breaths that tingle her skin lightly. When has she moved so close to him?

She needs to tip her head back to look up at him. Lucien is already looking at her, his features warm and soft, almost like he feels fully at ease in this moment. In her presence.

"There is a lot for us to talk about and I understand that this is not easy, and it will take time. I appreciated what you did today. Onwards, we do this at your pace, my lady. And at your pace only." Lucien smiles. "You tell me when you are ready to talk about everything. If we do this in 200 years, it is fine as well. But I want us to talk about everything. Share everything. And for us to figure out a way how to go forward. Together."

Elain's hand trembles the slightest bit beneath his. "I want to start now."

She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. "With thanking you for giving me your jacket when I was cold and afraid and you were the bravest of them all to walk over to me and help me."

~~~~~~~~~~ tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #elucien angst #acotar #acosf

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onceuponastory · 1 year

Text

home comforts - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: When Bucky finally comes home from another mission, reader makes sure he’s okay...and Bucky reflects on just how lucky he is to have her. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, blood, injuries/wounds (nothing too graphic though) and everything Bucky did as the Winter Soldier, and went through with HYDRA. Also, I mention how when he was the Winter Soldier, everything that happened to Bucky was without his consent, so that’s a trigger too. As always if I miss any triggers, let me know. Notes: Bucky deserves the world! Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

One summer evening, the front door to Y/N and Bucky’s apartment opens, breaking the silence in the space. Immediately, Y/N jumps up, rushing to the front door. That noise means Bucky is finally back after his mission. He’s been away for close to three months, and ever since he left the threshold of their front door, Y/N has been counting down the minutes until he got home.

Finally, she sees him, standing in the doorway and taking his jacket off. She notices the mixture of blood and sweat on his body and face, still there despite Bucky’s obvious attempt to wipe it away. He does that a lot when he comes back from missions, she’s noticed. Trying to shield her from the death and violence he witnesses almost every day, keeping his life with her separate from his Avengers life. Maybe he’s scared she’d run a mile if she knew just what he’s capable of. But honestly, Y/N doesn’t care about that. She knows everything that Bucky’s been through as the Winter Soldier, and she doesn’t blame him for it.

It wasn’t his choice. It never was.

“Hey love.” He murmurs, giving her a smile. Although she appreciates it, worry creeps in. He seems tired and empty, not like the cheerful Bucky she’s used to seeing now. Still though, she tries to mask her sadness. It’s tough, seeing him so worn down after a mission, and wanting to do all she can to help. Superhero or not, he deserves someone there for him on the other end. And she’s more than happy to be that person.

“Hey.” She takes a moment to take all of him in, noticing all the bruises and wounds dotting his skin. Even his arm seems to have lost its shine a little. Sighing, Y/N gently takes his hand. “They really put you through the ringer, huh?”

“S’Okay. It happens. It’s a part of the job.” He murmurs, shaking his head. She knows Bucky hates having her worry, but she knows that as his girlfriend, it’s her job to worry.

“I wish it wasn’t.” Y/N doesn’t say that, though. She can’t. How do you tell your boyfriend that you don’t like him going out there and saving the world, just because it means he might never come home to you again? Her stomach twists, the familiar feeling of anxiety about Bucky’s condition rising once more. Again, she tries to bury it.

He’s here. He’s home, and he’s safe. For now.

“You must be exhausted. Let me run you a bath.” She offers, and he nods. Although, Y/N catches a slight moment of apprehension in his gaze. Even though it’s been a while since he left HYDRA’s grasp, it’s clear their torture still affects Bucky. Sometimes, she sees it on his face. Him wondering if he deserves care and love. Even something as simple as bathing and taking care of himself was a reward back then. And it breaks her damn heart.

“Thank you. That would be perfect.” He manages a smile at that, and she nods. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, darlin’.” Y/N smiles softly, gently cupping his cheek.

“You deserve it because you’re a good person, Bucky.” She insists, hoping he believes her. Even after everything he’s been through, Bucky still tries to see the good in people. At least…those who deserve it. She just wishes he’d see the good in himself, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Running the hot water, Y/N glances at all the bath products she has on offer. Most are floral, fruity scents, not the most super soldier-esque fragrance. Bucky doesn’t mind that, though. He loves everything about her, and worships the ground she walks on. Instead, she opts for a lavender bubble bath, hoping it soothes him and calms his mind a little. God knows what he’s seen, but no doubt it will weigh on his mind like all the others. She pours some in, letting the water and bubbles rise as the scent of lavender fills the room. “Here you go.” She smiles, standing aside to let Bucky inside. He inhales the lavender, sighing contentedly, already feeling a little better.

“Thank you.”

“Do you need anything?” She asks. Ideally, she’d want nothing more than to help him undress, peel off every piece of tactical gear that’s still clinging to his body, wet with sweat and blood. And then she’d treat every single wound on his body, making sure he’s 110% okay. But after so long being used as a weapon, having your humanity and agency stripped away from you piece by piece…she wants Bucky to have the choice to decide what happens, and who touches him in moments like this. If he’s more comfortable being alone, she’s more than happy to oblige.

“No, thank you. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, just give me a shout, alright?”

“Y/N.” He speaks, stopping her just as she leaves the room. “Thank you. For everything you do. I appreciate it more than you could ever know.” Smiling, she nods.

“I know.” But Bucky wants to tell her that over and over again. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, tell everyone just how lucky he is to have someone as caring as her, to have someone treat him and his body with kindness after so many years of being tortured and broken. He can’t even put into words what she means to him, what his love does for him.

Once he’s alone, Bucky steps into the water, immediately moaning happily as the warm water embraces him. He leans back, his back pressing against the cool porcelain of the bath. Finally, he has a chance to relax and clear his head after his previous mission. Finally, after god knows how long he spent on this last mission, he can finally think about something else, and clear his mind from this weight.

Soon, his mind goes to Y/N. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky starts smiling. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone like her in his life. Someone so patient and loving. With her, his life is so much easier, and now he actually enjoys waking up in the mornings and going to bed at night. At least, he does when Y/N is beside him. He must’ve done something incredible in his past life to have her in this one. Sometimes, he worries that he’ll wake up and still be the Winter Soldier, his happy life with Y/N only a happy dream.

But life with Y/N is better than anything his mind could ever dream up. Even with all the death and blood he sees on almost a daily basis by this point, all the times he wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming…Y/N is right there by him, loving him, and staying up into the wee hours of the morning making sure that he’s okay and knows that he’s safe. She does so much for him, like now, when she made sure to respect his consent even when he knows all she wants is to be beside him, checking every inch of his body for any scars or wounds. No doubt she’d treat every single one of them too, big or small.

Bucky swears that Y/N’s heaven sent, that some angel must’ve been smiling on him that day when they sent her his way. Or maybe Y/N’s the angel they sent to him.

Regardless of the way she entered his life, Bucky feels incredibly lucky to have her. And he’ll be sure to tell her that every day for the rest of his life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a long, much needed soak in the bath, Bucky goes back to his and Y/N’s bedroom, wrapped only in a towel. As he creaks open the door, he spots Y/N. She’s laying on their bed, humming to herself as she reads. Bucky realises she hasn’t seen him yet, and for a moment, he just gets to watch her. She’s so beautiful. So peaceful. He would move heaven and earth to make sure she was okay and happy. Sometimes…well, most of the time, Bucky can be a grumpy asshole. Although, after being treated the way he was for so long, that’s understandable.

Y/N though? Y/N is the total opposite. She’s just so genuinely good, so loving and understanding. He could be having the worst day, wanting to scream and shout about the world and how much it hates him, and Y/N would be there to talk him down, to show him that there is good in the world. Although…he’s already seen that there’s good in the world.

And it exists solely in Y/N.

She looks up then, noticing him in the doorway.

“Hey you.” When she notices he’s only dressed in a towel, her eyes widen slightly. “What’s up? Enjoy your bath?” She stammers, clearly hoping he hasn’t noticed her staring. Chuckling, Bucky comes and sits beside her.

“I did, thank you. I really appreciate you, love, you know that?”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’re my boyfriend, and I want to take care of you.” She insists. “If you ever need anything, even if it’s just a shoulder to cry on, you can come tell me, okay?” Instead of answering, Bucky leans in, kissing her softly. All the love and passion he has for her, and all the pain of missing her that’s built up over the last few months he’s been without her, finally releases. Y/N moans happily, scooting closer to him and wrapping her arms around him as the kiss deepens.

“I will... But how about….” He whispers, smiling. “We make up for lost time?” Giggling, Y/N nods.

“I’d like that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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