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lxndonorris · 1 month

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Chocolate- Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smutish, Teasing, light touching Charles is your best friend and you're joining him in Australia. However, Pierre pranks the two of you with some spicy chocolate x word count: 1930+ taglist: @game-set-canet mentions of Pierre :P requested by anon :) feel free to request in my askbox gif by me

The scorching Australian sun beats down on the bustling Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit, where the roar of Formula 1 engines fills the air. Among the throngs of racing enthusiasts, you stand nervously, your heart pounding with excitement. Charles, your best friend and Ferrari's star driver, invited you to spend the weekend with him at the track, a dream come true for any racing fan.

As you stand inside the Ferrari garage, Charles flashes you a mischievous grin. "Ready to cheer for me?" he asks, his eyes sparkling brightly.

"Absolutely," you reply, barely able to contain a giggle. "I can't thank you enough for this opportunity, Charles."

"That's what friends are for, right?" He says, running a hand across his chest to button up his racing suit, getting ready to jump into his race car.

He zooms out of the garage and onto the track, while you watch the screen with a mix of excitement and nervousness. To calm your nerves, you brought yourself some chocolate from Charles' motorhome. He told you he got them from Pierre earlier today, and both of you enjoyed a bar before this training session—it tastes so good.

As you wait for Charles to finish his last training session for the weekend, the anticipation bubbles within you, heightened by the thrill of the fast-paced racing world.

Clad in his Ferrari shirt and cap, you feel a strange sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins, mingling with the nervous excitement that pulses beneath the surface.

When Charles finally emerges from his car, his presence seems to command the entire paddock. His aura is magnetic, drawing you in with an irresistible force. In one swift motion, his helmet and balaclava come off, revealing a face flushed with exhilaration.

He exchanges a few words with his mechanics, his focus on the training still evident in his demeanor. But then, as if drawn by an invisible force, his gaze finds yours.

His expression softens slightly as he runs a hand across his chest firmly, stroking himself through his racing suit. Charles licks his lips before turning his attention back to the conversation.

A tingling sensation erupts in your belly, sending shivers down your spine when he approaches you. As Charles closes the distance between you, palpable energy seems to radiate from him, his every movement infused with a magnetic charm that is impossible to resist. Time seems to slow down; everything around you is out of focus; just Charles remains the center of attention.

A confident swagger in his step, he exudes waves of effortless allure, seemingly pulling everyone's eyes on him. With casual grace, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, the strands falling back into place with practiced ease.

His touch lingers on his beard, his fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jawline before trailing down to his chest, where they linger for a moment longer.

You can't tear your gaze away, captivated by the sight of him and the way his features seem to be sculpted by the very hands of a divine artist. His confidence is intoxicating, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

"How was I?" He asks, his words washing over you in a warm embrace.

"Simply amazing." You smile as your skin heats up rapidly. Your face flushes with color, nearly as bright as your Ferrari shirt.

"Thank you; the car was so good." Charles remarks with a coy smile forming on his lips. "It felt amazing, like it let me do all that I wanted."

Despite your best efforts to concentrate, your attention keeps drifting, drawn inexorably to every nuance of his being. His lips move with fluid grace, forming each word with precision, and you can't help but be mesmerized by their subtle curve.

His beard, perfectly groomed yet with a hint of ruggedness, frames his jawline with an undeniable allure. As his fingers trail along it, you feel a surge of longing wash over you; the desire to reach out and touch the softness bristles alomst overwhelming.

But it is his hands that truly capture your attention—strong and calpable yet gentle in their touch. Every movement is deliberate, and each gesture imbued with a quiet confidence.

And then there are his eyes, pools of endless depth that seem to hold the entire universe within their gaze. They sparkle with warmth and mischief, drawing you in even closer.

Then, however, he leans in to whisper in your ear. "You look so good in that shirt," he breathes, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Almost as good as me out there on track, huh?"

You chuckle nervously, the air crackling with tension as you struggle to keep your composure. Charles' newfound flirtatiousness is both exhilarating and unnerving, stirring emotions within you that you had never dared to acknowledge.

His hands brush over yours before he separates himself, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as his eyes roam all over you again.

One of his mechanics calls him over, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Charles has been your friend for years now, and you can't deny the attraction you feel to this beautiful man, but this comes out of nowhere.

Later, you make your way back to his motorhome. The atmosphere grows increasingly charged, thick with unspoken desire. With each step, you find yourself drawn to Charles, unable to resist the magnetic pull that draws you closer together.

Inside his quarters, the air was heavy with anticipation, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your racing hearts. The scent of his cologne is all around you as Charles moves with fluid grace, his movements mesmerizing as he sheds his racing suit.

You watch, transfixed, as he lets the upper half of his suit hang down his waist, exposing his tight fireproofs that hug his form. Like a second skin, its fabric clings to his skin, and you can't help but admire the way they accentuate every contour of his muscular physique. Despite their attempt to conceal his strength, his powerful frame is unmistakable.

With causal ease, he flexes his arms, the fabric stretching taut against the bulging muscles beneath. You gasp silently as he stretches and moves, showing off his beautiful form.

But it is when he runs a hand over himself, stroking firmly along the curves of his chest and abdomen, that you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away. The sight is hypnotic, a tantalizing display of masculinity that leaves you breathless with desire.

Caught in the act of staring, you feel a blush creep into your cheeks as Charles' eyes meet yours. But instead of embarrassment, there is a playful twinkle in his gaze.

"Like what you see?" He winks, a mischievous grin quirking the corners of his lips as he teases you with a knowing look.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You raise your hands slightly, but he doesn't mind you watching him.

"I don't know. I'm so horny right now." He lets out a low moan that gives you goosebumps.

Unable to suppress the surge of desire that courses through your body, you close the distance to him, your hands trembling as they reach out to touch him.

His body is warm beneath your fingertips, eliciting a soft gasp as your boidies collide in a frenzy of longing. As your hands venture forth, a hesitant yet undeniable curiosity guiding its path, you feel warmth and a tingling sensation run through you.

Charles stands before you, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, the fabric of his fireproofs offering little resistance to the exploration that lies ahead.

With a tentative touch, you allow your fingers to trace the contours of his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the thin barrier of fabric. Each ridge and curve elicits a soft gasp from you and an even softer yet guttural moan from him.

Charles breath hitches at the touch, his gaze locked with yours in a slient exchange of longing and desire. Emboldened by his response, you press your hand firmer against him, reveling in the sensation of his warmth seeping through his clothes.

His muscles ripple beneath your touch, a testament to the strength and athleticism that define him as a professional racing driver. And yet, beneath the surface, there is a vulnerability, a rawness, that speaks of the humanity within him.

"It feels so good," he growls, and places his hands on your waist, holding you close.

In the heat of the moment, you lean in, and your lips meet in a hungry kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance. But just as your passion reaches its zenith, a sudden sound shatters the intimacy of the moment.

Startled, you break apart, your gazes locking in shared disbelief as you turn to see Pierre standing behind you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. His laughter echoes through the motorhome, mingling with the stunned silence that envelopes you.

"It looks like someone's been busy," Pierre teases, unable to contain his amusement.

Embarrassment floods through you, your cheeks burning as you struggle to find the words to explain the situation. But Charles simply chuckles, his arms wrapping around your waist in a protective gesture.

"Thanks for the chocolate, Pierre," Charles says with a wry grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like they had quite the effect."

Confused, your gaze shifts between them, trying to make sense of the situation. Then, you notice him brandishing a box of chocolates with an impish grin.

Pierre's grin widens, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. "My pleasure," he replies. "I must say, if I weren't taken, I'd be falling for either of you. You both look so good."

You can't help but giggle at his remarks, even though you're still slightly confused, as the warmth of embarrassment creeps into your cheeks.

"Oh, Pierre, you're naughty," Charles chimes in, his laughter joining yours. "But I suppose I can't argue with you there."

Pierre approaches you, the box of chocolates held out in offering. You accept it, and your eyes fall on it right away.

"Spice up your life with our new aphrodisiac chocolate bars." You read to yourself and pout, "Really, Pierre?"

Pierre's hand lands on Charles' firm chest, a playful pat that elicits a low growl from him.

"Aren't you just the heartthrob of the paddock?" He teases, his hand stroking Charles' chest a few times, before Charles nudges him with his elbow.

"You're unbelievable, Pierre," he says, shaking his head with a shy smile.

Still feeling the effect of the chocolate coursing through his veins, Charles can't resist the urge to indulge in a bit of self-admiration. With a smirk, he strokes his own chest, his movements mirroring Pierre's teasing gestures.

Sensing the playful energy in the room, you join in on the fun, nudging Pierre playfully as well.

He giggles in response, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he returns the gesture.

"I think I should leave you to it then." Pierre licks his lips. "You can keep the chocolate." He smirks and shrugs before leaving the motorhome.

As his laughter fades away and you are left alone once more, a comfortable silence settles between Charles and yourself.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "You know, it felt good to hold you close like that," he admits, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability.

You nod, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his words. "Yeah, it did." You agree, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc drabble #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 smut #formula 1 imagine

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romantichomicide95 · 18 days

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DABI ~ confessions

summary: you ask dabi why he never says those three words back.

cw: toxic relationship vibes, but still kinda cute. dabi opening up in his dabi way.

a/n: bee aren’t you on a writing hiatus? -no comment, also first time i’ve ever written for him and i know his stuff is prob a dead side of tumblr but when in rome.

tagging: @i-literally-cant-with-this (i almost forgot)

“how come you never say it back?” you ask dabi, adjusting your position against him on the couch. this particular question had been on your mind for awhile. whether or not he loved you back. it was something that twisted in your gut like a knife each night that passed. his stark blue gaze flicked away from the television, finding your eyes momentarily before flicking back to the TV.

dabi’s lips twisted slightly, forming a semblance of a frown, one that made his eyes seem even colder and more distant than usual. the faint glow from the television cast unsettling shadows across his scarred face, emphasizing the harsh lines of his expression. “say what back?” he retorted.

you felt your heart beat painfully against your chest. “that you love me,” you whispered.

a low grunt escaped him as he pushes himself up to a sitting position, forcing you off his lap and creating a small distance between you. dabi’s voice drops low, his steely gaze finally settling back on you, sharp and piercing. “love doesn’t really suit me now does it?”

your heart sank at his words, but you couldn’t let it go. “okay…so you don’t love me?” your voice was rising, a mix of frustration and sadness weaving through your words.

dabi looks away again, his jaw clenched tightly. for a moment, there's a flash of vulnerability in his eyes before it disappears behind his mask of indifference. “it’s complicated," he finally says, his voice gruff.

you felt the sting of tears, trying to will them away but failing. “what does than even mean…i’m your girlfriend.”

his silence hung heavily between you, the air charged with the unspoken. he sighed, a sound heavy and filled with something that could almost be mistaken for regret. "can you just drop this and watch tv? i’m fucking tired.”

you wipe away a tear. "no dabi…you know i put up with a lot from you? for one you’re an asshole and like you’re not always nice to me. plus you use my body however you please. but despite that i love you…so i just deal with it.” you begin, the tears now rolling down your cheeks unchecked. “i just want to make you happy. and now you’re telling me you don’t love me? what’s the point?”

"fuck, " dabi cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. he saw the hurt flash across your face and it stirred something inside him. you were right, you do put up with a lot from him. always finding ways to justify his behavior, excuse his cruelty. “don’t cry i hate that shit. i’m not good with feelings and all that.” he runs a hand through his messy hair. the tv light flashes bright, casting a glow across his face illuminating his scars. “it’s not like i don’t care about you.”

“but you don’t love me? i guess i just don’t see why you’re still with me if you don’t.”

there’s a long silence as he struggles internally with the weight of the conversation. “well i am with you aren’t i? who else would put up with me?”

“oh so it’s out of convenience than? that’s real nice dabi jeeze.”

he glares at you for a second, almost like he’s insulted by the insinuation. “no. it’s not out of convenience okay! jesus christ, you’re impossible. can you just drop this please?”

“if that’s the case than why can’t you say it back?” your voice comes out exasperated, shaking and choked. laced with tears and sorrow.

frustrated beyond measure dabi’s blue eyes reflect a mix of anger and turmoil. like there’s two sides desperately clawing away at each other inside him. finally he explodes. "fuck…if you're really that desperate for meaningless words then fine…fine, I LOVE YOU, YOU STUPID IDIOT!" he screamed, his voice cracking under the intensity of his own emotions. the room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the tv in the background. he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling fast as he continues yelling. “i love you so much it’s fucking infuriating. why do you think i get so mad all the god damn time when guys look at you? why do you think i push back all the time? cause i’m fucking scared. i’m scared you’ll realize what a piece of shit I am and leave me. i fucking love you y/n. of course i do. fuck…are you seriously that dense that you don’t see that?”

the second those words left his mouth, there was a palpable shift in the air. the room suddenly seemed colder, and you could barely believe what you had just heard. you stare back at him in disbelief, unable to form words.

watching you struggle for a response he snorts, shaking his head. a low gritty laugh, utterly emotionless, escapes him. “of course you don’t see it you fucking moron, too busy whining and being a pain in the ass all the time.”

a feeling of relief bubbles inside you, mixed with annoyance at his utter lack of tact and disbelief at his confession. the swirling of emotions comes out of you in a laugh, one that lasts a fraction of a second too long. “how can you be such an asshole while saying something like you just said?” you continue to laugh, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

he rolls his eyes. “just because i said love you doesn’t mean ill suddenly change you moron.” he says, though the hardness in his tone has softened. he shifts uncomfortably, almost as if unsure how to handle the vulnerability he just displayed.

you smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek before settling back on his lap. he scoffs slightly but his arm wraps around you as you both settle back into your prior position. despite himself, dabi finds some comfort in having you close. there’s some peace that bubbles deep within him whenever he’s got your body pressed against his.

you look up at him, tracing the scar along his cheek. “well, i love you a lot…and i wouldn’t leave you by the way, so there’s no reason to be scared.”

“whatever,” he mutters dismissively. “just shut up and watch tv.” he shifts on the couch grabbing the remote and turning the volume up, but not before he leans down to place a small chaste kiss against your forehead.

#dabi x reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi todoroki #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #dabi x you #touya x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi touya #my hero academia x reader #my hero #dabi

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queenshelby · 27 days

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An Illicit Affair

Part 30: Realisation

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Many hours later, when the sedation wore off enough for you to open your eyes, Cillian was still there, his eyes fixed on you, a soft smile playing on his lips, his thumb gently stroking your hand.

"Hey. Welcome back," he murmured, his voice soothing as his eyes searched your face for any signs of pain or discomfort.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, the familiarity, the tenderness, the warmth seeping into you, a comforting balm.

"Hi," you whispered back, your voice raspy but thankfully audible.

Cillian smiled in relief, his fingers tightening around yours, before gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "I thought I lost you," he admitted, the words heavy with emotion.

You blinked slowly, taking in the weight of his confession, before managing a small laugh. "You can't get rid of me that easily," you whispered, and Cillian chuckled lowly at your response, the sound tugging at your heartstrings in ways you couldn't quite describe.

The two of you stayed there, holding hands and exchanging gentle smiles, basking in the comfortable silence that seemed to wrap around you both like a warm blanket. Speaking was still difficult for you and Cillian just wanted to give you some time which was something that you appreciated.

When you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper. "How long have I been out?"

Cillian shrugged, his eyes not leaving your face. "All night," he told you and you nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. It wasn't just physical exhaustion, either. There was a heavy weight settling on your shoulders, a weight made up of worry and fear.

"Why can't I feel my leg ?" you asked quietly, your voice barely audible.

Cillian's gaze immediately snapped to your face, his brows furrowed in concern, his grip on your hand tightening.

"The doctors said it's just temporary," he replied, his voice gentle, reassuring. "They had to fix a lot of damage. You lost a kidney and your leg was shattered in the accident, but with therapy, you should be able to walk again," Cillian told you, but his words didn't fully register. You were too caught up in the fear that had taken root in your chest, fear of never being the same again, fear of not being able to live the life you had always envisioned for yourself, fear of losing the things and the people that you cared about.

"Cillian," your voice was small, barely above a whisper, as you looked up to meet his gaze. You could see the worry etched into every line of his face, and it only served to fuel your own fear, threatening to drown you in its depths.

"Hey, it's okay," he reassured you, his voice soft and soothing as he leaned in closer. "You're going to be okay."

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but the doubts and fears that had taken root in your heart made it difficult.

"Were the nerves affected as well?" you asked,tightening your grip on Cillian's hand.

"Yes," Cillian admitted, his voice filled with regret and a heavy weight seemed to settle in the room, suffocating in its intensity. "You might be in a wheelchair for a while, but with therapy , you should be able to walk again," he continued, trying to sound positive but the uncertainty weighing down his voice was impossible to miss. He knew the chances were only sixty to forty and he knew that you knew as well.

Your breathing grew shaky and you couldn't fight back the tears that threatened to fall. "What if I can't?" you asked, your voice trembling as the fear took hold of you, paralyzing your mind.

Cillian took a deep breath, reaching for you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You buried your face into his chest, letting out a shaky sigh, surrendering the tears you had tried so desperately to hold back. But you weren't ready to accept this new reality.

"Shh, it's alright. Everything is going to be alright," Cillian whispered, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you, gently rocking you back and forth, soothing your trembling body just as your parents came walking in after having had a rest for a few hours in a hotel nearby.

"Oh sweetie, you are awake ," your mom exclaimed, hastily crossing the room, as she noticed you crying. Your father stood rooted at the door, a storm of emotion brewing in his eyes, conflicting, torn between his anger towards Cillian and the overwhelming feeling of relief and gratitude that his daughter had woken up.

"I will give you some time with your parents, alright?" Cillian murmured reassuringly, gently messaging circles on your back, offering silent comfort and support before reluctantly releasing you, allowing you to nestle back into the safety of your parent's familiar embrace, wiping away your tears as best he could, before turning around, his eyes meeting your father's confused and angry gaze, his body tense with coiled anger.

"I don't want this man around our daughter," your father mumbled shortly after Cillian had left the room, causing you to sigh heavily.

"Now is not the time!" your mother hissed, glaring at your father with a sharpness that could kill.

Your father scoffed, his eyes flickering towards the closed door through which Cillian had left, before turning back to you and your mother.

"He is older than me. I looked it up, on my phone. He is still married too," your father continued with a shake of his head, scowling at the thought. "He shouldn't be fooling around with our daughter," he murmured, a hint of hurt in his voice.

Your mother sighed, her eyes closing as she pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly overwhelmed by your father's persistent negativity.

"Stop dad, please ," you pleaded, your voice still weak, but gaining in strength as you spoke. "Cillian did nothing wrong. We love each other, it just happened. We couldn't control it and I don't want to control it," you murmured, your voice stronger now, confident and sincere.

"He defiled your body by agreeing to a risky procedure, with blood from another person now pumping through your veins, putting you in harm's way and at odds with God," your father argued, his voice rising in volume, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Dad, I am sure he made the decision that I would have made for myself, had I the chance," you interjected, lifting your hand in an attempt to shut down his outburst before it spirals out of control.

Your father scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes burning with unsaid words. "He doesn't know you like we do and I don't approve of you being with this man," he stated firmly, his voice unyielding.

Your mother sighed and placed a gentle hand on your father's arm. "This isn't the time or place to discuss this," she chided, her voice gentle yet firm. "Our daughter has just woken up after having been a major accident and we're lucky she's alive," she said and your father grumbled under his breath but nodded, conceding to your mother's wise words. They both turned to you, their faces filled with love and concern.

You could see the relief in their eyes, the sheer joy that you were awake, alive, but there was something else too, a wariness, a tension that hadn't been there before.

After a while, this wariness slithered its way into your mind, plaguing you with question after question, clouding your judgment, and tainting your perspective.

You knew they didn't approve of Cillian, and a part of you couldn't blame them, but the other part, the part that held the majority of your heart, was defiant against their unspoken disapproval, refusing to give in to their demands.

So, you pushed your questions to the back of your mind, focusing instead on your recovery, determined to prove your doubts wrong.

Eventually, Cillian returned to the room, closely followed by a police officer who needed to ask you a few question about the car accident. The investigation was ongoing and the officers wanted to get a clear picture of the events leading up to the accident.

You gave your statement, your mind focused solely on the facts, refusing to let your imagination take over and turn this tragic event into a senseless tragedy fueled by irrational emotions but still you couldn't ignore the fact that, for a while, you had been followed by a black Mercedes.

Each time, you brushed it off as a coincidence but after the accident, this theory seemed highly unlikely.

"There is something else," you told the police officer, your voice hesitant. This was the first time you were speaking about this, admitting this to someone else and the words seemed to stick in your throat, refusing to come. "I think I was being followed," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

The police officer nodded, making a note in his little notebook, before asking you a series of follow-up questions, carefully fishing for details and clues.

You answered each one as truthfully and as accurately as possible, unable to shake the feeling of unease that had taken root in your heart.

After the police officer left, Cillian turned to you, wondering why you had not told him about this before.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice but you simply shrugged, looking down at your hands, unable to meet his gaze.

"I didn't think it was important. In fact, I thought that, maybe, I was being paranoid," you replied softly.

Cillian reached out, gently lifting your chin so that you had to look at him. "It is important," he said firmly while his mind plagued him, wondering whether Danielle had anything to do with this after the verbal threats she had made towards him after he had filed for divorce. And then, suddenly, it hit him like a freight train. An idea that came out of nowhere but that felt so incredibly right.

Danielle had recently purchased a new car for Max from their joint bank account in the UK. She wanted to gift him the car for his next birthday and once his license was being reinstated. Following a DUI, Max was suspended from driving for three months. Cillian even had an argument with Danielle about her purchasing a new vehicle for him after he had crashed the other, telling her that he needed to learn to take care of himself and the things he owned. He had no idea of the make or model as Danielle would have used an agent to make the purchase but if his suspicions were correct, then Danielle had crossed a line, a line that could never be uncrossed. He couldn't help but wonder if she would go as far as to kill to get what she wanted.

"I need to go," Cillian muttered, his thoughts consumed by Danielle and the danger she posed.

"What? No, you can't leave," you protested, gripping his hand tightly, unwilling to let him go.

"Please, Cillian. Don't leave me," you begged, your voice trembling with fear and desperation, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and gratitude for the man who had captured your heart so completely.

Cillian hesitated, torn between his desire to stay by your side and his obligation to ensure your safety.

"I promise I'll come back as soon as I can," he said finally, his eyes filled with regret as he bent down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

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happybird16 · 1 year

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"Come here," Levi urges, hand tugging at your shoulder.

You sniffle, struggling to swallow around the huge knot in your throat. Eyes puffy and swollen, his form is blurry through your watery lashes. You let out a small sob, snot and tears flowing to coat your cheeks and neck. "Levi," you struggle, voice cracking with wetness. It's almost impossible to stifle your sobs, "I..I'm.. they..-"

It makes you feel so much worse, how much of a mess you always become when your upset. You must be such a disgusting sight, all mucus and tears. You can feel the tacky, stickiness of it coating your swollen skin. It's always so difficult to speak, when your crying like this, your lips feel swollen and slow, "Levi.. I.."

The fingers digging into your shoulder become more urgent. In your watery gaze, you can see the seriousness of Levi's expression. The concerned downturn of his brows, worry lines blooming as his mouth downturns in a frown. "Come here," he urges again, more firmly this time.

Tugging you forward, his grip on you shifts, fingers threading into the hair along the back of your head. The touch is soft, urgent yet comforting. For some reason it only makes you soft harder, fat tears welling in your eyes.

He's trying to pull your head to his chest, that much is obvious. Through swollen eyes, you note the stark white material of his shirt, firmly pressed and wrinkle free. The mess coating your face and neck suddenly feels so much thicker, cool and wet in the rooms soft breeze. You struggle weakly against his tugging, "B-but -I'm a mess.. I'll-"

"I don't give a shit," He barks sternly, pulling you forward the final few inches. "I-," Levi struggles, taking a deep breath, his chest rising and falling right below your ear. You can hear his heart throb, a steady yet quickened beat. "I'm not good at this comforting shit," he hisses softly, "but -just let me try."

"Okay," you murmur, lips brushing the soft cotton of his shirt. Your face heats, warmed by his intention. The hand at the back of your head hesitates, before slowly smoothing through your hair. Again and again, Levi pets along the back of your head, holding you firm against his beating heart.

"Just let it out," he murmurs softly, chin brushing the top of your head. You sniffle, tears still welling up in the corners of your eyes, but you already feel so much better. Nuzzling into his chest, you cry, letting the last echoes of your sobs escape freely. Levi says nothing for several minutes, fingers steadily smoothing circles through your hair and into your scalp.

He's warm, the weight of his other arm a solid mass along your back. Even through your clogged nose, you can smell him. He smells like warmth and spicy masculinity, like fancy black tea and fresh linens. The combination fills your senses with every sniffle, calming your frantic mild to nothing but a dull buzz. As tears slowly leak along your cheeks, you let all of your weight sink into him. Lip trembling, you fight a whimper, voice cracking, "It's my fault.."

"No it fucking isn't," Levi cuts you off firmly. Despite the phrasing, the words are soft. The fingers stop petting along the back of your head, shifting to pull you hard to the firmness of his chest. "They shouldn't treat you like that. It's really fucking shitty of them.

"But," you warble, mind filling with lingering self doubts.

"No." The petting begins again, his fingertips dragging long lines from the top of your head to the base of your scalp. "You don't deserve to be treated like that. You-" the rumble of his voice below your ear cuts off as Levi struggles for words. "You- You're- Fuck!" Breath your head, his chest heaves as he draws in one long breath. "You're good. And strong. And so fucking kind, okay? You always try with people, even if they treat you like shit." You feel him press a quick kiss to the top of your head, before shifting and pressing a cheek into your hair. He huffs a laugh, fingers threading through your hair, "Just look at us."

You smile, nodding your head into his shirt. "We did have sort of a rough beginning," you laugh softly. Sniffling again, you close your eyes tight as a fresh wave of tears stings along the edges. "Still, it hurts. It's always hurts."

"I know. I know," Levi hums softly, pressing another kiss to your hair. "And you always deal with this alone. I know you do. With everything." The hand at your back pats your shoulder softly. "Look -fuck- I know i'm not great at this, but just come to me from now on. You don't need to deal with this shit by yourself anymore."

"Okay," you respond truthfully, shoulders heaving in a relieved sigh. "I will, I promise." You nuzzle your nose into his shirt, now soaked with salty tears. "And you are good at this."

"That's a fucking lie," he huffs, warm breath dusting the top of your head. "You've stopped crying," he notes softly, "A-are you feeling better now?"

"No," you smile, faking a sniffle. Pressing your head further into the warmth of his firm chest, you decide you want to stay here, just for a bit longer. "Not yet."

#this is basically just a vent post lmao #levi/reader #levi x reader #soft and comforting #levi ackerman #written in like 40 minutes help #myaotdrabbles

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deansapplepie · 6 months

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Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 9

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

Masterlist

Chapter 9: I ain’t yer bitch, Grimes

Summary: The day starts with a horrifying secret coming to the knowledge of the group, dividing opinions about the matter. Stress is all around again, people say things they didn’t really mean. Everybody is suffering, but some matters have their conclusion. This is absolutely the worst synopsis I ever made, but also that was the hardest chapter for me.

Warnings: swearing, little angsty, nightmares, violence, death, discussions, Daryl is a meanie (but he’s suffering). Minors do not interact. (If you think there should be more warnings, let me know)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 5,029

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. I’m consulting a timeline of everything that happened, but it can happen that I put events out of order. In the series after the happenings of this Chapter we have a gap of 7 days, so I’ll use it to have the freedom to be more creative and create nice interactions of our loved characters.

You were walking in a large field, it was the end of the afternoon and a little cloudy, so the colors were not bright. Far away you saw a person, it looked like a kid, but you were not exactly sure you needed to get closer. Soon you weren’t walking anymore, you were running. When you got closer you could see better, it was a kid, a girl. She had short blond hair and was wearing a blue t-shirt. ‘Sophia’, you thought. That was the clothes she was when she got lost.

“Hey, Sophia. It’s me Y/N.” You called her going in her direction but she didn’t turn to you. “Sophia, we were so worried, we looked for you everywhere. Your mom is so worried. She’s gonna be so happy when she sees you.”

Again, no answer. When you got close enough to touch the little girl, you put your hand on her shoulder and called her. She turned to you, and you saw the most horrifying thing, she was pale white, veins evident on her skin, her eyes were the greenish that only the walkers had, and she jumped on you.

You woke up immediately sitting in the dark, you were sweating, your heart beating impossibly fast, it was even a little difficult to breath. When you sat up, Daryl woke up startled, he sat by your side touching your shoulders as delicately as he could. “Wha’ happened? Are ya okay?” He asked worriedly, by the way you woke up he was sure you were not ok.

“I had a nightmare. A terrible one.” You said, when you thought about talking about Sophia the tears came to your eyes, and you couldn’t help but cry. He was surprised he never saw you like that, well… except the day he encountered you in the woods, but in the middle of the night? Never… well, not that you had slept many times together, in fact this was the third time you slept in the same place.

“I’m ‘ere. Try to calm down and tell me. I need to know to help ya.” He pulled you to his chest hugging you from behind, as much as your sitting position allowed.

“Sophia…” You managed to say, all this days you were all worried about her, but you didn’t had any dream or nightmare about the girl, so why today? “I found her…” you sobbed. “She had turned Daryl, she died and…” More sobs take the control over you.

“Shush… com’ere.” He turned you around and laid down with you, your face hiding on his chest, he caressed your back and your hair. “It was just a nightmare, we’re gonna find her and she’s gonna be ok.”

He couldn’t be sure of it and you knew. He also knew it, but he wished to find the little girl more than anything. It’d give hope to the group, Carol would be happy and everything he went through would be worth it. He kissed the top of your head and continued giving you comfort till both of you fell asleep again.

The next day everyone was sat having breakfast together when Glenn came and dropped an atomic bomb on everyone, saying the old barn was full of walkers. When he gave the news, you almost choked on your breakfast, but you could see it was as if he had taken a burden off his shoulders. Damn, the kid was carrying a lot of secrets with him.

After this, it was all chaos. Everyone went to the barn, following Shane. Shane wanted you all to leave, but you couldn’t just leave without Sophia. He got mad at Daryl, because he insisted, he was close to find the girl. You all got to know that Hershel saw the walkers as sick people, how fucked up could this be? While you discussed the door of the barn started shaking with the walkers going against it. You decided to watch the barn just in case, Shane being the first one on duty.

You went back to the camp and saw Daryl, crossbow on his back, going to the stables. ‘Oh he’s not thinking about taking another horse, is he?’ You thought, but you knew he were, you followed him and also saw Carol coming in the same direction. You found him inside looking for a horse. “You can’t go out there in your state.”

“Well, just watch me sweetheart.” He said an acid tone in his voice.

“Daryl, you’re severely injured and it was caused by a horse. Let the others look for her.” You tried to bring reason to him.

“Listen, ya don’t get to boss me around, I ain’t yer bitch, Grimes.” Even when he was mad he had never called you by your last name, but when he made you upset you called him Dixon, so you could not exactly blame him.

“Alright, do whatever the fuck you wanna do.” You wanted to say that you were just worried, that he needed to have a good recovery because he was essential for the group, the group needed him. You needed him, but the words just got stuck in your throat.

You turned your back to him and left the place going back to the camp, you passed Carol on you way and knew she was also going to try to reason with him. Maybe he’d listen the mother of the child. You sat on the swing, Carl on your side and Luna on the ground chewing on a branch she found somewhere. You observed Daryl storming off the stables followed by Carol. It looked like she somehow convinced him, even though he didn’t look happy about it.

It all got you thinking about the terrible nightmare you had, you still wanted to have hope and the same faith Daryl had, but the odds were not really on the little girl’s side. “Aunt Y/N, do you think we’ll find Sophia?” Carl asked while you both sat on the swing.

“Yes, I’m sure we will…” You tried reassuring your nephew, well you really thought, but you weren’t sure how you’d find her, dead? Alive? A walker?

“I don’t want to leave and let her behind.”

“Me neither sweetie, me neither.” You took his little hand in yours and squeezed it.

After lunch you were all together at the house’s Porch when Shane arrived with all the guns, you took your gun back of course, you agreed that having the walkers so close, you needed to have protection. You put it back close to your knife on your waist. Shane was inciting everyone while he gave everybody guns, when you all saw Hershel, Rick and Jimmy bringing Walkers as if they were just doggies that they found in the woods.

“What the fuck?” You didn’t have time to hold your tongue, so everyone looked in that direction and if it could get worse, it would and it got.

Everything happened so fast at the moment, Shane ran down the hills you all followed behind him, Luna being faster than everybody an passing Shane. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It can get bad if she get close to one of those things.’ You tried to run faster even with your injured leg. When you got down there Rick was divided on telling Shane to stop and trying to command Luna to not get close to the walkers. You got her by the collar and brought her distant from them.

Then everything went fast, Shane shot the Walkers that Hershel and Rick were bringing to show the farmer that they were not alive and following he broke the lock of the barn door releasing the walkers that were inside. You got your gun and aimed it in the direction of them and started shooting with the others to contain the monsters to get to you. One hand holding Luna and the other firmly holding the gun. When you thought everything was over, you listened to a low moaning coming from the barn, getting closer and closer to all of you. And when it came to light… there she was. Sophia. She wasn’t Sophia anymore, she was a walker just like in your dream and you couldn’t dare shooting her… not the little girl you met on the road, the one that played with your nephew and was like a niece to you, not the so pure and innocent Sophia that had already suffered much in her life.

You put your gun back at your waist and turned your back, you didn’t want to see, you couldn’t dare to look anymore. You heard Carol’s cries and saw that Daryl embraced her so he wouldn’t get any closer. You got to Lori and Carl, and hugged them. It broke your heart, seeing Sophia turned just like in your nightmare, Carl crying for his friend, Carol suffering… You were relieved to have “found” Sophia, but you were also extremely sad.

You put the walkers bodies on the truck to burn them, but made graves for Sophia, Hershel’s wife and stepson. You reunited to make a funeral for them, Carol didn’t want to participate. You could understand her, but at the same time it pained you that her little girl was not going to have her mom on her funeral as it should have been. Maybe that wasn’t Sophia anymore, but it was before… and if you had found her dead instead of turned, wouldn’t you bury her too and say your goodbyes?

Everybody started to go their separate ways and back to their chores. You stayed there a little longer and then headed back to the camp. When you got there you saw Daryl disassembling all his camp that was in the extreme corner where all of you were camping. He was already kind of far from you, what was he doing? You approached him, a little afraid of his reaction.

“D., what are you doing?” You asked genuinely worried.

“Wha’ does it look like?” He grunted throwing things in his bag just to get away from there.

“Like you’re running away from us.” You kept your distance and let he continue to do whatever he was doing. “I know you’re upset, I’m too. All of us, actually. We need to stay together. I know it’s breaking you, you were truly involved on Sophia’s search…”

“Ya know nothin’ ‘bout me!” He retorted, throwing all his belongings on the ground.

“You’re hurting. If you need me, you know where to find me. I’ll be there for you in the same way you were there for me when I needed.” You left, you didn’t look back. There was nothing you could do for him to listen to you in the moment.

You went looking for the others and found them at the Greenes house. It was a little crowded, Beth was catatonic. Maggie said that one moment she was on the kitchen doing her activities and in the other she passed out and was on this state she was right now. Hershel was nowhere to be found and he was the only one that could help her.

Lori suggested you tried to do something to help, since you technically have the same knowledge as Hershel, but you wouldn’t dare. The old man was way more experienced than you with animals and people, you’d not risk. Rick and Glenn left to bring him back to take care of Beth.

You stayed all the afternoon helping Maggie and Patricia with the house and with Beth. When the night arrived you had dinner ready for everyone to eat. In that moment you learned that Lori was missing, you hadn’t even noticed. A car was missing too. Shane got up and went after Lori, everybody was worried. ‘This day can’t get worse’, you thought.

“Carl, eat. Your mom gonna want to know you ate everything when she’s back.” You told the boy that continued to eat contradicted.

“Why’s your boyfriend not here?” Maggie asked sitting by your side to eat.

“He wants to be left alone.” You deep breathed. “I guess this is how he copes with his frustration. what happened today was probably too much for him.”

“First time you don’t correct me when I call him your boyfriend.”

“And would it matter if I did? You’d still call him that.” You shoved a mouthful of vegetables in your mouth, you didn’t feel like eating, but you forced yourself to.

“Why aren’t you with him?” You truly liked Maggie, she was a good girl and you were pretty sure Glenn was in love with her, but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed with her questions. You didn’t want to remember that he was hurting and that he was alone, just because he couldn’t stop himself from pushing away from people.

“He doesn’t want me there, I’m not forcing anything. I left the door open, so when he needs me… if he needs me, he’ll come and find me.” You drank water to help the food down, the food was delicious but you really didn’t felt like eating. You just ate to survive. “I finished, gonna wash my plate and stay with Beth till you finish. Carl, don’t leave Andrea.”

You were still not good with Andrea, but you knew she would protect and take care of Carl properly. You went to the room and sat by Beth’s side. It was really a great shock to her… Shane wasn’t completely wrong about cleaning the barn, but the way he did… it was the problem. “I’m sorry Beth, I wish you didn’t need to go through that.”

In one hour or maybe two Shane got back with Lori. She was hurt and you wondered what could have possibly happened. She told all of you the story about going to look for Rick, Glenn and Hershel. She was insane, maybe? Did pregnancy do this to a woman? Like it would be of no use to one more person go looking for them, as Rick and Glenn were already looking for someone.

“Know what’s that Y/N?” Shane asked you, and you knew that probably you’d fight after a long time with no fights. “She asked your boyfriend to go look for them and he didn’t…”

“And he had no obligation of going! Rick went with Glenn to look for Hershel, that was enough. The only thing we needed to do was wait for them! Going look for them aren’t going to bring them faster to the farm.” You exploded, now even this he would like to blame someone? “The only fault of this is yours Lori, couldn’t you just wait them? It’s not like you have superpowers and would bring they back instantly. You just put yourself and the baby in danger!”

“Baby?” Many of the people around Lori and Shane said. Which baby?

Lori gave you an annoyed look.

“Sorry.” You said about revealing the baby, not what you said about making no sense going to look for Rick at this point.

Then the questions started, and Carl learned he was going to be a big bro. Carol and Dale took Lori to the RV to check on her. You approached Dale to ask him a favor, well not actually a favor, but it would be one for you.

“Dale, can I stay on watch tonight?” You asked the older man.

“Yes, of course. Who’s going to change with you?” He asked.

“No one, it’s better if everyone rest. Tomorrow I can sleep.” You told him and he saw in your eyes you were almost pleading him.

“It’s not right, you know? To be deprived of sleep.”

“I’m not. Tomorrow morning someone can take my place and I go to sleep. Please.” You asked again.

He agreed, so you just asked him to wait a little cause you were going to check where Luna was. You pretty much already had an idea, but you had to make sure she wasn’t in the woods or somewhere else. You walked in the dark only with the moonlight to guide you, you could see the whole structure of his camp.

Anxiety was bringing an uncomfortable feeling to your chest and stomach, and you were a little afraid of what you could encounter. When you arrived, you saw him and Carol, he having an outburst on her. You ran to stay between her and him.

“What the hell are you doing?” You yelled at him. How could he treat her like this after everything she went through?

“Keeping all of ya away from me!” He yelled back, even though he was shouting you could see in his eyes that anger wasn’t exactly what he was feeling, maybe just a bit. “Don’t ya understand I’m here for a reason? I ain’t yer servant so ya can go ordering me aroun’ as ya want!”

“Carol, go back. Let him be today. I’m pretty sure tomorrow he’ll regret his actions.” You told the woman that was behind you.

“What are ya here for?” He asked daggers on his eyes, he probably didn’t like what you said. “Came here to tell me, how I treated yer sis bad?”

“No, you asshole. I just defended your ass when someone mentioned it was your fault!” You retorted him, you had come with good intentions just to look for Luna, but you couldn’t just stand how he treated Carol and how he was behaving.

“Let me guess, Shane?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You answered, you didn’t want to take longer there, cause the longer you got to come back the more you were inclined to have a fight with him, and you didn’t want it. You just wanted Daryl back, the one that was a little bit grumpy and rough, but that was also sweet and considerate in the small things. “I came here for my dog. Is she here?”

“She’s sleeping in the tent.” He replied, you were surprised she didn’t wake up with all the yelling.

“Good.” You turned your back to him and started to go back to the camp.

“Aren’t ya gonna take her?” He asked a tad bit annoyed and confused.

“Just wanted to know if she was safe, you can have her today. You probably need her more than me.” You answered not turning back and continued your way back to the camp.

You went to RV and let Dale know you were already there to start your watch. Once more he tried talking you out of it, but you needed this time just for yourself and speaking the truth you were afraid of sleeping alone after your nightmare the night before, this time you wouldn’t have anyone to hug you if you needed.

You sat on the beach chair on the top of the RV, rifle resting on your lap, binoculars hanging on your neck and starring at the darkness. You always liked the night, more than the day, but you never were the one to change your sleeping habits because of this and despite of that you couldn’t appreciate the night properly at the cities. In your opinion the most special and magic thing about the night, was the sky with the moon and all the stars, you felt like you were looking into the universe and that mesmerized you. Also, you loved the silence and peace you could find at night.

Recently, you couldn’t enjoy the night anymore, because it was too dangerous, but honestly, being a woman, it wasn’t so different before. You didn’t enjoy the nights because of the parties and trivial things like this, what you really liked was the calming and silence it could give you. No car noises. No phones ringing. No one ring the doorbell. No annoying neighbors (well, most of the time). Now wasn’t so different all day, but you still needed to deal with people, and drama, and damn people that should be dead walking around and trying to eat your guts.

You spent the night watching the darkness, admiring the night and putting your thoughts in order. It was so exhausting being on an apocalypse, you couldn’t guess that besides fighting walkers, you’d need to deal with other people, have tons of familiar drama and have worries about a man you knew almost 3 months ago and was able to shake your life in a way no one had before, not even that bastard son of a bitch that ruined your life. On top of that you had your own dramas, traumas, worries and he, the man you couldn’t just stay away or give up, had his own troubles and you didn’t know if you would be able to break each other's barriers.

When the sun rose, you saw some dust far away in the road, you took the binoculars and saw the car in which Glenn and Rick left coming to the farm. You descended the RV stairs and went running to the house, announcing they were back and you prayed that please they had Hershel with them.

Soon they stopped in front of the house and all of the three were together, but they had guy with them. His leg was hurt. Soon Hershel and Patricia went to do a surgery on the boy’s leg. Glenn and Rick explained everything, the way things escalated made you fear what could happen. If this boy escaped or if their group went after you, all would be lost. It was too dangerous, but as a human being you could also understand what they did and why they did. After Hershel finished the surgery, and took care of Beth, everybody reunited to decide what to do with the kid. First plan, was to wait his recovery and then abandon him in a place far away from the farm. It could be a good plan, Shane didn’t like it much, but… what did he like nowadays? Maybe just Lori.

You left after you got breakfast, ready to go to your tent and try to sleep a little, or else Dale would speak a lot about it and the elderly man could be very incisive when he wanted.

“Can we talk?” You heard a gruff voice behind you, his voice. You didn’t look back.

“Did you already talk to Carol? She’s probably the most upset one.” You said, looking side eyed to your right and seeing Luna following you two. “Talk to her, then we can talk. Luna, come on girl, you already stayed away from me for enough time.”

You went to your tent and changed into comfortable clothes just to take a nap and make Dale happy that you rested as you promised. Luna joined you and laid there running your hand on her back, in some way it was soothing for you. After some time you heard Daryl knocking on the imaginary door of your tent. “Come in”, you said and soon he opened the door, entered and zipped it again. “Did you talk to Carol?”

“Yeah, already apologized for being a dick.” He said sitting in the opposite side from you. You sat and took a look at him in the dark of the tent while Luna turned around to rest her head on his lap.

“At least you’re a conscious dick.” You murmured.

“Wish, I wasn’t one at all” he chewed on his thumb.

“Everyone can be one sometimes.” And it was true, just that he was one more often, but you also knew he never had anyone to help him deal with his emotions. “I don’t like when you’re like that.”

“I know. Me neither. It’s just… I dunno how to be anything other than that.” He petted Luna’s head.

“I know. You were bad yesterday, because you cared, you felt… it’s ok to feel D. You’re human, you have a heart. It’s just how you bring these emotions out.” You were so calm, that it got him confused. It wasn’t that you weren’t upset, but you could see through his angry grumpy façade. It was just him trying to hide what he was truly feeling, also a way of auto sabotage himself. “It’s ok to rely on others. I see that you probably never had someone like this before, but now you have us. You have me. If you need to vent about something, cry or just go to the top of a mountain and scream all your feelings, you can come to me.”

“ ‘m sorry.” That’s the only thing he could say, he knew no explanation was needed, because you had just said pretty much what he was feeling.

“Come here.” You said laying over your sleeping bag and pointing at your chest. “Lay down and rest your head here.”

“Whatta ya…” he started to question, but you just cut him.

“Just do as I say, if I can lay my head on your chest, you can also do the same with me.” You opened your arms waiting for him.

You almost expected him to throw a tantrum just like the day before when he said he wasn’t your servant for you to order him around, but he obeyed laying on your left side, so he would not hurt his recovering wound. He rested his head on your chest, put his left arm around you while you hugged him with both your arms. One hand caressing his back carefully to not hurt him and the other on his head playing with his hair. He was a little embarrassed in the beginning, he thought it was very different you laying on his chest than he laying on yours. In his mind when you laid on his chest, it was pure, lovely and innocent, but for he, a man, lay on your chest it sounded wrong… women chests had always been something extremely sexualized by the society. Until that moment, when you started to rub his back and ran your fingers on his hair, he had never thought it could also be pure, innocent, lovely, soothing and many other adjectives that he could use to describe the sensation. He could listen to your heartbeat and feel your breathing, being able to relax.

“You’re forgiven, just don’t push yourself away again. Specially when we didn’t even fought between us.” You kissed the top of his head and he would not admit, but you felt him snuggling more into you. “Do you like it?” He just let a small hum. “This is what I mean when I say you can come to me. Whenever you need I’ll comfort you as you have already comforted me.”

You didn’t feel any animosity from the day before, in fact, when you saw him taking his things to set his camp far from yours, you thought you’d give him his space so he could overcome the situation. But when you saw he treating Carol badly you couldn’t just watch. You were happy he apologized to Carol and you were glad he came to you. You felt good about being able to show him what comfort was and how he could heal without hurting himself and the others around him.

You ended up sleeping with him in your arms, he stayed a little more enjoying the feeling and organizing his thoughts. Then he got up and left taking Luna with him and going around to see what he could do to help. He didn’t want to disturb your sleep, he knew you didn’t sleep, because he didn’t too. The night before, He just laid in his tent, Luna by his side and he couldn’t stop thinking about all his actions of the day, he wished you were there, but he had treated you so badly that he didn’t even know if you would like him close to you ever again. He regretted his actions like you said he would, but it was like he couldn’t control himself when he felt like this and mean words came out of his mouth without he even thinking about it. So even though he rested during the night he couldn’t sleep thinking about everything and knowing you were there keeping watch all by yourself in the darkness of the night. He could see you there, before he went to his tent, he saw you on top of the RV even from that distance he could see it was you. He wanted to go there and ask what you were doing, tell you to stop being so stubborn and go to sleep, but that night he felt like he didn’t have that right anymore.

He just knew one thing he needed to stop hurting people he didn’t want to hurt, people that he was learning he cared about. It feared him, because the only person he ever cared about was Merle. He didn’t even care about himself, but now he had people that he wasn’t completely sure yet, but he thought that maybe cared about him. Well, he felt like you truly cared, and he had to stop building walls and closing the door for you. He had never felt so good and safe before as he felt in your arms, and that was one thing he had to value, this was something he wanted to feel again and again and again.

Final Notes: Gosh, this was a very challenging chapter for me to finish, it took me sometime because the things never seemed right. For the next chapter or maybe chapterS we’ll have a gab of time that I can fill with something, so I was thinking about crossbow and hunting lessons with Daryl.

What do you think? If there’s anything you’d like to see, let me know me know. If it fits the story I’m trying to build maybe I can include.

Taglist: @sunnybunnyy2 @royaltysuite

Wanna be added to my taglist? Just let me know.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl dixon imagine #daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x grimes!reader #till the dead do us part #deansapplepie

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jellymellydraws · 3 months

Text

Gortash's coat magically keeps his composure and emotions in check. So walk with me for a moment...

Grief Concealment

Rose is furious. He tells her she was his nearest and dearest. They would have been gods together. They meant to rule as the Absolute, together. But she hears how hollow those words come out. Like rehearsed lines by a poor actor. She calls him out on it.

"You're lying!" The accusation. "If this is true, you're a shitty lover. Where were you when the filthy Myrklites were carving me open? When I disappeared, did you even bother looking or was it too inconvenient?!"

The tears threaten to fall, recounting the horrible pieces of her demise that she's picked up along the way. This entire time, there was someone who could have stopped it. Someone who supposedly cared.

And he did nothing.

"Did it ever occur to you how convenient it was that my disappearance was followed by the discovery of the tadpoles' modification? The very piece needed for our plan to work. Did you ever wonder, for a second, who patient zero was?!"

She keeps the tears from spilling, but not her voice from shaking. All he did was stand there. Hands folded in front. Staring at her with dry eyes. No expression. Cold. Calm.

Uncaring.

"You're full of shit. You don't give a damn about me." A stray tear betrays her. Trails down her cheek. "Maybe you never did."

Gortash exhales a slow, controlled breath. No response. No admission. No denial. He turns to his desk and approaches it with tormentuously slow steps. The clinking of metal accompanied him as the fastenings of his coat were undone.

The heavy ornamental garb was tossed aside, unceremoniously. His hands press against the wooden surface as he hunches over. Another heavy breath.

Shaky.

A sudden pang in her chest as she watched him. Closely. The man that faces her is nothing like the one moments ago.

Grief creases his features. Despair lingers in his eyes.

Her lip quivered. This was him. This was real.

"Enver..." The words slipped as a soft cry. The urge to step forward, to reach for him-- it wanted to overcome her, but she was untrusting of it. Scared for what may come if she listened.

So he reached for her instead. Closing the distance and pulling her closer. Holding her as his lips met her's. Caressing her head as he brings her to his chest. His heart beat was frantic.

He couldn't fake that.

"I thought I'd never see you again," his shaky voice reached her ear. He breathed in her scent, trying to convince himself that she was, really, there. "When Orin returned and took your place, I didn't want to believe it. You? Undone by your impulsive and rash brat of a sister? Impossible."

She listened, doing her best to keep her breathing from getting out of hand. But she was shaking. She knew she was. He tightened his hold around her. A free hand stroked her back.

"But you never returned from Moonrise...Ketheric claimed he didn't know what happened. Orin's claims became more believable as time went. If she turned you into one of her art projects, I didn't want to see it."

She began to bury her face in his chest. With nothing to hold, her fingers curled into tight fists. His every word sounding more genuine as he went on. This was the truth. The unbearable heart wrenching truth. He pressed a kiss to her temple, burying his face into her hair.

"I couldn't let that be the last thing I'd have to remember you by."

#durgetash #gortash #oc: rose #dark urge #bg3 #the dark urge #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #baldur's gate 3 #durge #jellymelly writes

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nivisdreaming · 1 year

Text

Kinks And Cookies

Frustrated by the trials and tribulations of solo BDSM, Y/N comes to their dear friend Eddie Munson for support. Probably shouldn’t have chosen the best friend they’re also in love with for that role, but at least they’ve got cookies as a distraction from the heartache?

Eddie Munson x Sub!Reader

WC: ~800

Tags: Not smut but heavy kink themes, hurt/comfort turned love confession?, self indulgent af, drabble, gender neutral reader, 2nd person POV (you/yours and Y/N use)

Eddie cocks his eyebrow from where he lounges in a dining room chair, a lit joint hanging from his fingertips as he intently listens to your words. “Wait, so you’ve been doing solo play? As a sub?”

“Yeah, and it’s.. fine. Less than ideal for my style, but I’m a big kid, I can take care of myself. Porn and daydreaming works well enough. It’s good enough. For little while, anyway. But that’s not the issue,” you bite your lip and shuffle in your seat, “The problem is afterwards. Aftercare and that stuff. You know how I am with self care. It’s even worse when I’m…” Your words trail off.

“Fucked dumb?” He finishes for you, a smirk on his face as he clearly tries to suppress laughter.

“Eds! This is serious!” You huff and pull your knees up to your chest, burrowing your warm face and wide eyes away from him. “It’s gotten really bad sometimes, Eds, if I don’t do enough I end up dropping.” You take a shaky breath and try to wipe some of tears collecting on your lash-line on your pants. “That’s really scary alone, Eddie. I hate every second of it, and there’s nothing I can even do but wait it out when all I wanna do is feel good.”

A frown replaces Eddie’s teasing expression. He’s heard about subdrop plenty, helped a few playpartners through it once or twice. He’s even had to deal with topdrop himself after a particularly rough scene. He knows the emotions your trying to articulate. The anxiety that eats away at you, the shame and guilt that overshadows all else, the primal sadness and depression that you just can’t explain because there’s not always a reason beyond the physiological. He’s putting out the joint now, quick to move from his seat to squat next to you. A tentative hand reaches for your knee, and he begins to rub small circles over the soft fabric. “I’m sorry I laughed, Y/N.” He can hear your muffled sniffling from where your face is buried, and it’s really tugging on his heartstrings. “What can I do to help? What’d you want me for?”

“Just, hold me. For a few minutes. Til the bad feelings go away.” You feel Eddies arms move up to wrap around your torso, and you’re carefully shifted into his lap and pressed against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. His hand goes to caress your hair and a sob rips from your throat, stilling his breathing.

“Y/N. Maybe this is a bad time, but could I ask you something?” Eddie’s words come out tentatively. You nod from where you lay, not trusting your voice to hold steady. He mutters close to your ear, “Why don’t you have a dom? If being without one isn’t what you want, why be on your own?”

You feel your breath catch, and he worries you can feel how his heart skips a beat at your reply. “There’s… a guy. Who I want to be my dom, but I’m too scared to ask.” You take a heavy pause. “He barely even knows I exist in that capacity, but being with someone besides him would still feel wrong. I’m waiting to either get over him or work up the courage to ask him out. Both seem impossible.” Your words come out mumbled, but at least the talking is enough over a distraction to get you to stop crying.

Eddie is so glad your head is still buried in his chest. You always had such a way of reading him, like you could see his eyes and how they reflected the light and use it to know exactly how he felt. He didn’t want you seeing that moment the hope turned to jealousy turned to heartbreak. God, this had been a rollercoaster of a conversation, even by the weird standards you two had grown accustomed too.

You both sit in silence for awhile, enjoying each other’s embraces, terrified to be the first to move. It feels like centuries have passed by the time the alarm for the cookies you technically were here to bake in the first place sounds through the trailer, and you have to peel yourself from Eddie’s hold reluctantly. He stays on the floor, but you can feel his gaze on you even as you turn to pull the metal sheet from the oven.

“Whoever he is, tell him. You don’t… you don’t deserve to hurt, Y/N. Not like this.” His sightline doesn’t budge when you turn your head around to look at him. There’s some emotion dripping from everything about him, from the hunched way he sits, to the gruff tone of his voice, to the way he blinks a little too often, like he’s trying to clear something away. For once, you can’t quite determine what it is. It only spurs you on.

“It’s you, Eddie. For fucks sake, it’s always been you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #sub!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson drabble

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angelst4re · 1 year

Note

hi my lovely!! you're my favourite jamie writer, if you don't want to, you don't have to, but would you be okay writing something with jamie x y/n with vaginismus!

it's basically a form of sexual dysfunction where the vaginal muscles don't relax, regardless of how turned on you are, when penetration is attempted, so penetrative sex can be very painful or actually impossible as the muscles tighten and stop it altogether (like it is for me)

and so many fics just write y/n automatically able to have penetrative sex without much foreplay or prep beforehand, and i almost get jealous ig 😭. i would love to read smth where jamie is comforting about it (and maybe some smut with him giving you pleasure without having to have p in v sex)

thank u sm <3333

as soon as i saw this in my inbox i KNEW i had to write this!! i suffer from endometriosis and it often links with vaginismus, which i also have!! so this fic is very important to me :) and i completely agree with you and even i get almost jealous too when i read those fics haha! anyways... thank you so much!! and i hope you like the fic <33

Do You Trust Me? - Jamie Campbell Bower x Fem!Reader (with vaginismus!)

summary: it's your first time having sex with your new boyfriend...

warnings: NSFW!! contains smut! if this makes you uncomfortable then please don't read it my love <3

notes: as you may have seen at the top, i suffer from endometriosis, and it also happens to be endo awareness month right now! however, that's not what this fic is about... vaginismus is a very common condition and i don't feel like it's talked about enough, in fact i rarely ever see anyone talking about it, and it is almost never mentioned in fics :( so i hope to change this!! <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Jamie asks, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, his messy blonde hair hanging over his eyes, damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead as his body leaned over yours, caging you between his arms on the mattress.

“Yes,” you told him, hoping that this time it might feel a little less painful, especially after all the foreplay, “please.”

Jamie nodded his head, his lips slightly parted as he reached down between your bodies to line himself up with you. You felt your heart begin to beat faster and faster in your chest, you felt the anxiety building in your stomach as he began to push into you.

“Fuck-” He groaned, “you’re so- is this-”

“No, it’s okay. Keep going.” You told him, screwing your eyes shut and turning your face away from him.

It burnt, it stung, the pain was unbearable, but this was your first time with Jamie. You worried that you would disappoint him if you were to tell him to stop.

But then, suddenly, he stopped.

“Hey,” he took your chin and turned your face so you were looking at him, “this is hurting you, isn’t it?” He observed, quick to slip his cock out of you.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you told him, but the tears staining your cheeks told him otherwise, “you can keep going.”

Jamie shook his head, and moved to sit down beside you on the bed. You sat up too, and you felt an arm snake around your back and pulled you closer to him.

You couldn’t help but burst into tears.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he ran his hand up and down your arm comfortingly, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“It isn’t okay.” You declared, crying into his bare chest.

“Is it your first time?” He asked gently, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“No.” You told him, “I’ve tried to do it before, but it hurts. It’s unbearable, Jamie.”

“What if I-”

“There’s nothing you can do to make it easier, not right now. It’s a condition, I’ve tried so many different things to ease the pain but it’s never worked. I’m sorry.”

“Darling, why are you apologising?” He asked, “if you think this changes my mind about you- about us- then that’s just silly!” He reassured you, and you turned your face to look up at him, a soft smile on his lips.

In every relationship you have been in, the sex is what has ruined it. It was clear to you that in the past these people had only wanted you for your body. They couldn’t deal with the fact that you didn’t want penetrative sex, and so they had left- or you had put up with the pain, but once it had gotten so bad you thought you would black out.

“Y’know,” Jamie began, and you could feel his hand creeping down your thigh, “there are plenty of other ways I can make you feel good- ways we can make eachother feel good. Do you trust me, sweetheart?”

“Of course.” You whispered, nodding your head, and you felt him smirk against your shoulder.

“Good girl.”

His hand moved closer to your inner thighs, and you gasped when you felt his fingers on your clit, rubbing teasing circles with his fingertips.

“Promise me you’ll tell me if anything hurts, if you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.”

“I promise.” You said, growing when his fingers left your clit.

He moved again, and he was in the same position as he was before, kneeling between your thighs.

You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what on earth he was going to do.

He stroked his cock with one hand, he brought the other one up to your mouth. You let him dip his fingers into your mouth, and you danced your tongue around the digits before he pulled them back out, he then switched his hands over, but instead of slipping his fingers into your mouth again, he used his thumb to tease your clit.

He pressed the tip of his cock to your clit, and you let out a small whimper. Your slick was coating him already, and he couldn’t help but curse at the sight.

He rocked his hips, and you suddenly realised what he was doing. The length of his cock rubbed against your centre, as his soft, velvety head nudged your clit again and again, and it felt heavenly.

You threw your head back, but Jamie stopped you, telling you he wanted your eyes on him whilst he ‘fucked’ you. He then leaned down and captured your lips with his, in a hot, passionate kiss. You truly don’t think you’ve ever felt so turned on.

“Does this feel good?” He asked against your lips, teasingly. He could tell by the way your hips rutted against him, wanting more.

He applied more pressure, rubbing harder against you and your mouth fell open, a string of moans, followed by Jamie’s name, falling from your lips.

It felt like your nerve ends were on fire, you bit down on your lip as his met your neck, giving the skin sloppy kisses and gentle nibbles. You could feel the knot in your belly tightening, ready to snap and send you over the edge at any second, and you could feel his cock twitch against your centre.

“Are you close?” He asked, breathlessly.

You couldn’t answer verbally, instead you settled on nodding your head, and digging your nails into his shoulder in an attempt to ground yourself. You could feel the pleasure building and building, eventually leading to one of the most intense orgasms you had ever been given.

“Oh my g- Jamie!” You whined, throwing your head back as you came. You felt Jamie’s hips stutter and you knew he was getting close, and the feeling of your cunt pulsing without him even being inside of you sent him over the edge, and he let out an almost animalistic growl as he came, coating from your lower belly to your clit in spurts of his hot cum.

You didn’t even give him time to come down from his high before cupping his face in your hands and pulling him down so your face was inches away from his, before crashing your lips into his. You couldn’t tell if it was an act of love, arousal or gratefulness, but he was quick to return the kiss, collapsing beside you on the bed and pulling you onto his lap, not caring about the mess he had made on you spreading on to him as he held you close.

#jamie campbell bower smut #jamie bower smut #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #jamie campbell bower rpf #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower x reader #jcb

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fangirly14 · 1 year

Text

The thunder wasn't what had woken Jason up.

No, it was the piercing bright flash of light that had him sitting upright immediantly. His heart pounded in his chest. He hated nights like these.

Sometimes the rain was relaxing to listen to as he fell asleep or read his book, but thunderstorms? Those were entirely different.

He remembered being on the streets during these storms. How cold he was. Shivering and wet and squatted behind a dumpster for a shread of warmth.

Now Jason was shaking again, as if he were the same kid who had sat in the storms through the night, not knowing if he would wake up the next day.

He couldn't stop the tears from appearing in his eyes. His heart was beating so fast it fekt like it was going to explode. Why was he acting like this? He was fine.

He couldn't explain it, but he suddenly couldn't breathe. He tried to inhale air but it seemed almost impossible.

He needed help. He got up and practically ran to his door. He flung it open and charged down to hall to Bruce's room.

Bruce had told Jason to come to him if he needed something. Well right now he needed to fucking breathe.

He flung the door open and it hit the wall with a loud bang. Bruce shot up and was instantly wide awake.

"Jason? Are you okay?" He asked, worry lines appearing on his face.

"B... I can't..." Jason choked out.

Bruce got up and kneeled down in front of him. "It's alright. Okay? Inhale." He took a deep breath with Jason. "And exhale."

Jason wasn't sure how long they spent there, just breathing, but it felt like hours. Finally Jason could breathe normally again.

"Do you know what that was Jay?" Bruce asked gently. Jason shook his head.

"That was a panic attack. Something must've caused you too much stress or anxiety. Do you know what set you off?" Bruce continued to talk in a low, soothing voice. Something in his tone made Jason feel safe and sleepy.

"The storm I think." He whispered out. Bruce nodded to himself.

"Okay. Are you alright to go back to sleep? Or you can stay up and read or watch a movie?" Bruce offered.

"Can I stay with you?" Jason blurted out, the. His face flushed and he turned his head away, mortified.

"Of course Jay. "

Surprised by his response Jason stood there for a moment before diving into the covers before Bruce could change his mind.

He felt Bruce get in on the other side. He kept his distance which Jason was grateful for at first. Then he was cold. Too cold.

He didn't want to feel that way again. He hesitantly scooted closer to Bruce until he felt brave enough to fully curl into his side.

Bruce's hand made its way to Jason's hair and starting gently detangling the hairs. Soon Jason was overcome with the deep need to sleep.

"G'night dad." He murmurred before slipping off to dreamland.

A kiss was pressed to his forehead. "Goodnight son."

Just a little thought that popped into my brain. I hope you enjoyed some father-son fluff. Ignore spelling errors. Im too tired to proofread this

#good dad bruce wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne #thunderstorms #Fluff

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dapper-comedy · 5 months

Text

Leo and Penelope belong to @noriaki-kak

The door was kicked open, slamming against the wall violently as a hurried and panicked Caspian rushed in, the coughing, shuddering form of Giselle in his arms. In only moments, with long strides, he reached her bed, settled in the room next to the windows and he nestled her in the mounds of pillows and sheets. Behind him he was followed by Penelope and Leo, and behind them, Giselle’s father scurried after as he wrung his hands. Concern and worry was written across their faces, but the flurry of words from everyone made whatever speech they uttered impossible to decipher.

“It’s- It’s really nothing to be so-” Giselle started, tears pricking her eyes from the fit of coughs she tried to speak through, “You don’t have to- I’m fine-”

Caspian barely stayed in place to hear the rest of her words, before he whirled around, and raced out the room, likely to get whatever he could to amend her coughing, not noticing as she reached out towards him. Whatever attempt at reassurance she made was unmet, as her father followed Caspian, and the moment they were out of the room, there was the thundering and inevitable scolding she knew that would be coming.

Penelope grimaced, glancing over her shoulder at this still open door. Exchanging a glance with Leo, the two nodded, and she quickly exited the room, likely to back Caspian up from whatever stammering, guilt-ridden responses he would make. And with that, the sudden whirlwind of noise was gone, finished by the quiet, careful shut of the door, as Leo was left with Giselle who trembled from the effort to hold back her coughing.

With a sigh, Leo brought the chair beside the bed to its edge, fixing the bed sheets over Giselle as he managed to try to lighten the mood.

“Probably better this way, huh? I would’ve absolutely beat you in the race, so you won by default.” He chuckled, smoothing his hands over the fabric of the blankets.

Giselle took a moment to take a deep breath (not without sending a challenging glare to the prince), a thin sheet of sweat gleaming from her forehead from the exertion her body had gone through. After three more deep breaths, whatever coughing fit that had ridden her had seemed to ease as she finally slumped against the pillows, exhaling shakily.

The room was silent for a moment. Leo watched Giselle intently, taking in every twitch of her features, observing as she turned her head towards the large windows, the setting golden sun playing with the shadows of her face. For a moment, she looked so much thinner, and tired, and Leo’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest. There was a flame, one that he frequently ignored, but a flame nonetheless.

Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was frustration, irritation, he couldn’t quite identify it. But it flickered and it burned each time he saw her like this.

“Caspian’s hair will go white before you two are married if you keep this sort of stuff up, you know.” He spoke up at last, keeping his voice leveled and calm. Giselle smiled, not meeting his gaze, and keeping her eyes trained on the setting sun, before it disappeared behind her balcony. She said nothing.

“Not to mention you’ll bring Penelope to her wits end. And what about me? I can’t compete with you when I’m worried half to death too.” Leo continued. He wanted to reason with her. He wanted her to see just how much they all loved her, and yet, wanted her safety and health to remain stable just as much as they wanted to sneak away in the night.

“There has to be a line, Giselle.” He finished, unable to say anything else. And the flame flickered.

“It’s there.”

Leo blinked owlishly, confusion furrowing his brows, watching her raise her arm, and point to the balcony outside her window. Back and forth he looked, from the window to Giselle, before he shrugged cluelessly, not understanding.

“That is my line. That is the line that has been more than half my world.” She spoke softly, her voice raw, and hoarse, but still just as strong, “That is the line I have watched for so many days. That’s the line the sun gets to cross, and I never could.” She turned her gaze at last to meet Leo’s, and her smile was bright, and her eyes were glimmering.

“I thought for a very long time that the sun would get to see the world under that line and I never would, and it made me miserable. But you know something?” She leaned forward from her pillows, smile growing to an impish grin, “I went to go see it myself because no one would take me. I’ve seen past the line, and I learned that lines are very easy, and very fun to cross sometimes.” Giselle tilted her head.

“And then Caspian carried me past the line. And then you, and Penelope did too. No one’s ever taken me past it before. It’s always been me. And it’s beautiful, to be past the line with others.”

“I know he worries. I know my father worries. I know you, and Penelope worry. But you worry for something inevitable. I wish you would worry the same way I worry.” She fell back against the pillows, sighing in frustration.

Leo, now curious, leaned his elbow against the bed, propping his chin up by his palm as he observed her.

“What do you worry about?” He asked.

Giselle watched him just as intently as he watched her. And then she sighed, turning her head back out to the window, her voice a little softer.

“How many times will I get to cross that line? And will it be enough?”

Leo frowned.

And the flame flickered again.

“I know I’m sick.” She continued, the space between her eyebrows creased in frustration, “I know I’m weak, and feeble, and fragile, and- and frail.” She spoke the word in revulsion, “I know all that. I know I will die before you-”

“Giselle-” Leo tried to cut in, and she snapped her attention to him.

“It’s true!” She overruled him, “I will die, and I’ve sat with that truth for so long. For too long. What good does that do me? To sit and sleep and wait for death? With days blurring into each other, and time is- is gone. When I’ve read every book in the house, and played lyres and lutes to exhaustion, what else is there? I just had a line to stare at, in the morning, and afternoon, and evening. And I know, I know it’s unfair of me to ask you not to worry. To stop denying the inevitable, and just… stop letting yourselves hope that it simply won’t happen. It’s unfair, and it hurts, and it’s sad-”

Suddenly, she bent over, a hacking fit consuming her as she trembled and shook, pain tightening her abdomen, gasps for air the only interruption she was allowed. Immediately, Leo leapt to his feet, watching her as he felt the flame burst, exploding in his chest.

He was helpless.

Rubbing her back, holding her as her white knuckles clutched at his sleeve, and her bedsheets, he waited until the storm passed once more. For a while, they stayed there, before he gently and carefully leaned her back against her pillows, gingerly removing her grip from his arm. Her chest rose and fell, heavy breaths as she fought to steady them, eyes shut tight with focus. And Leo watched her, briefly bringing his hand to his chest, swearing the room was silent enough for her to hear his panicked heartbeat.

At last, her eyes opened, sweat sticking her hair to the sides of her face and neck. As Leo sat back down in his seat, reaching his hand over to peel the stray strands from her skin, she spoke up, voice low.

“I will cross that line as many times as I can, until I can’t any longer.”

Leo met her gaze, before he completed his task, and leaned himself back. Giselle’s eyebrows furrowed.

“...I won’t change.”

There was the distant sound of thudding footsteps.

“...I don’t want you to.” Leo replied, quietly.

Giselle blinked in surprise, before a relieved, happy smile stretched across her thin features.

And the flame flickered.

#caspian #giselle #leo #penelope #oc tag #braithen kids

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grampsoninspace · 9 months

Text

siren.

[inspired by Hozier’s brilliance and “De Selby (Part 1)”]

pure bliss floods my veins despite the murky waters starting to swallow me whole; the notes still ring in my ears as my ribcage starts to fill, but dark eyes peer through the crystalline waters at my descent.

a warm hand grips my wrist, nearly yanking my arm from its socket, hauling me from the sweet release of cold nothingness awaiting far below. fear suddenly breaks through the haze as my lungs remember what they need.

upon my escape, my body purges the offensive liquid from my chest, making room for oxygen in an attempt to fight for the life i was ready to release. it isn’t pretty, the struggle for survival, especially against my better judgment. spit and seawater and mucus run freely down my soaked body as i remember where i am; my addled brain attempts to take in an illustration come to life so real it feels as if i’m the fairytale.

flowing waves of hair the color of an ancient tree you lean upon to rest and read frames a fair and handsome face, with freckles scattered like stars over the vast expanse of skin exposed to the world and my vision. long, dark lashes flutter over then around wide eyes that tell of endless depths seen and unspoken for too many years.

a hungry smile twists a pair of rosy, supple lips — white teeth sharper than shattered glass slipping out between; but the mirth fades as those ageless eyes meet mine, a flush of color blooming over cheekbones high and proud, nearly drawing my glance away from that impossible stare.

almost.

that narrow, masculine jaw is set now, and a swallow bobs down a throat that creates a symphony within a sigh; the hand that isn’t keeping me above the water reaches out to touch my face.

“i am supposed to kill you now.”

his voice is sin and salvation, lighting me on fire and cleansing me of everything else i’ve ever known. my mouth falls open in a gasp so involuntary i don’t realize i’ve made a sound until he chases it with his lips covering mine.

he draws more sounds from me then — so much different than any i’ve ever made — pulling my trembling body tightly to his, his bare chest heaving against mine: sharing breath and warmth and a simmering passion i do not comprehend. he devours my sea-stained tongue and swallows down the lilting notes of my voice that i find i cannot help but surrender.

i am not freed from his deadly, life-giving kiss until my damp fingers curl into his hair and pull — gently, but firmly, drawing a sigh from him that i feel in my marrow.

“i do not understand,” he murmurs, holding me to him still, pushing wet strands of hair back from my eyes. i’m crying, and my arms slip around his neck as i begin to shake in earnest now. there is a steady pulse thrumming under his perfect skin, and i wonder what beats within the cage of his ribs if not a pounding heart like mine…

“you taste sweeter than any flesh i’ve consumed before, but i do not wish to rend it…” he presses his forehead to mine; his brow is wrinkled, his breath fanning over my face.

“and your voice… so human, but so…” he bends down to sink those deadly teeth into the soft slope where my neck and shoulder meet, and i draw in a breath to brace myself before he can pierce my skin. instead, he inhales, his nose tracing a line up to just below my ear. i whimper — a pathetic, begging sound — and he groans, his tongue dragging over my throat as i tilt my head back for him.

“what must i do to keep hearing such music?” he asks with his lips pressed against my collarbone, his smile grazing the spot and pulling a nervous whine from the pit of my stomach, my breath stuttering as his hands begin to roam.

“are you an angel?” he teases, with his words and mouth and fingertips, while his hands are tearing away my wet clothes and those eyes are cataloging every exposed inch of me. “we do not often see those down here.”

i force my eyes to meet his gaze and he freezes as though time has stopped dead, one hand on my neck, the other resting on my hip. i lay my palms on his chest and he looks suddenly unsure, as if i am the hunter here — unarmed though i may be, disarmed as i somehow seem to make him. i stroke his skin with my fingertips and his grip tightens around me, his thumb pressing to my windpipe as i swallow hard against it.

“i am not,” i admit, and his eyes flutter closed, like he is bracing himself against the onslaught of my voice slicing through the taut silence between us. his tongue traces his bottom lip as if my words are a tangible thing he can taste upon the wind, his thumb stroking my throat like he can coax more of them from me at will.

“i do not know what you are,” he admits quietly, “or what this feeling is. you are meant to be a feast for me, but i feel no hunger here, no thirst for your blood, no need to…”

“it is strange,” i agree, “but it isn’t wrong.”

“it is wrong, little angel of darkness,” he argues, a wry smirk warming his face, his hand kneading its way over from my hip to slip down between my thighs. “you are human; i am siren. for all of time your kind has sustained mine by seeking out our song and finding death awaiting.”

“i would die right here and now if you wished it,” i shrug. “but i would give you anything you wanted if you let me stay with you instead.”

he groans and buries his face against my neck, stroking me with long and nimble fingers, stealing my ability to speak anything but nonsense, a vast vocabulary traded for the soundscape of aching desperation then impossible release.

“i am supposed to kill you now…” he breathes against my skin, his head resting on my chest as i try to remember my own name. it seems inconsequential, somehow. i am lying on my back on the same rocks that ruined my ship, being willingly and gladly torn apart by the same creature who lured me here to die.

peace floods me as oxygen fills my lungs and my body continues to warm under his exploration. he is kissing me again, carefully this time, keeping his sharp points away from my soft give. my hands are in his hair, content to let him do whatever he decides is best.

“it is your choice,” i say against his lips as he finally moves again, his eyes searching mine as his fingertips tease and coax and keep me in a haze of bliss i can’t bear to leave.

“it is inevitable,” he says, peering up from between my legs this time— but his expression is unsure, his eyes unfocused. “i cannot keep you. not alive…not below.”

“do what you must,” i whisper, ecstasy flooding my brain for another drawn-out peak — his teeth finally breaking skin as his fingers curl and press inside of me. i cry out, pleasure and pain mixing in a confusing rush as he removes his mouth from me. blood flows from the tear he made, but i arch my back as he forces me to come again around his fingers and on his tongue.

i’m gasping for air, unable to focus on any one sensation, the raw burn of torn flesh blending with the beautiful ache of oblivion — and he’s creating it all, a work of art meant for no one but him, selfish and beautiful and cruel.

“no,” he rasps, and his tongue suddenly drags over the cut splitting my thigh; i’m screaming and he’s torturing me and it is clear now how this will end.

but at once the burning subsides, a cool breeze washing away the pain, and i sit up to watch my leg healing with impossible speed. i lock eyes with him, and he’s panting, both of us dragging our gaze away to watch as the wound repairs itself. his thumb is absently stroking circles over the skin above my knee, his other hand buried in his own hair.

“you saved me,” i whisper, holding his face in my hands, gazing upon his impossible beauty with fear and awe.

“no, little angel,” he sighs, his eyes pained as they meet mine, bloodshot and tearful. “i damned myself.”

his face becomes gaunt and his breathing is shallow, his skin graying and drying out beneath my hands.

“what did you do?” i cry, “and why did you do it?”

“i gave you my blood,” he huffs a soft laugh. “it was the only way to repair the damage i had done…but now i will die… do not look so stricken, my angel, this is not in vain. for the first time, i have chosen for myself.”

he moves his head just enough to kiss my palm before he withers quickly to sand slipping between my fingers and sticking to my wet skin. everywhere he lands, i am sparkling and warm. i weep for what was and for what could never be, a song rising in my throat — soft and alluring, like the swishing of the waves… like a lover’s kiss.

i feel the shift before i know what he’s truly done, the sea calling me to her depths to demand answers for her missing son. and i obey her command, unable to deny her anything, slipping beneath her surface; the scales of my tail shimmering under the waves in the last rays of the day.

#grampsoninspace #fiction #sirencore #hozier #de selby part 1 #unreal unearth #tell me that man isn’t fae #i won’t believe you

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intubatedangel · 1 year

Text

Code Red : Chapter 7

Getting close to the end now, only one or two more chapters to go depending on how the writing process goes. I hope everyone enjoys this one.

Story Index

* * *

Anna was still there, in that sightless, soundless void. She knew she'd been shocked twice, the all-encompassing flashes were impossible to ignore. But that was it. There hadn't been a flash in a while.

I'm asystolic. There's nothing to shock. My heart isn't even twitching.

She didn't know exactly how long it had been since then, she barely even had a sense of time. She knew it was passing though. She could still feel the persistent chest caving compressions. Knowing the team that was giving them to her, Anna was certain they were being delivered 100 times a minute. It didn't help her figure out the passage of time though. Every time she tried to count them the number slipped through her grasp.

Am I starting to fade away?

The thought scared her. Which was an odd feeling without it being joined by her heart speeding up in response. Before she let it grip her completely she felt something new. Her mouth was pulled open, a cold metallic object sliding into her throat.

Laryngoscope. I'm being intubated.

Less than a week ago the idea would have thrilled her. She had been desperate for it. She was desperate for it now, for entirely different reasons. As much as she'd always felt the burning desire to be laid out on a trauma bed with so many people fighting to resuscitate her, she didn't want to die.

Except that's what's happening. I'm dying.

No. Clinically I'm already dead. My mind just hasn't caught up yet.

She felt the tube push into her trachea, quickly followed by a lung swelling breath. It had an immediate effect. Coupled with the blood that must be flowing into her body, she felt... It was hard to put into words. How do you describe feeling like you're fading back in? Becoming more present perhaps? Ultimately it may not matter. With the boost in clarity, Anna understood that if they didn't get her heart beating soon the fading would return. Would progress. Until there was nothing left.

A poke in her neck, and a second in her wrist, drew her away from thoughts of her own demise. More lines. Her meagre senses gave her flushes of hot and cold pulsing throughout her body, drugs and fluids coursing through her system. Throughout it all, she felt the constant squeezing of her chest as someone beat upon her sternum.

Is it Carl? She wondered.

She knew it wasn't him the moment she felt a hand brush her hair. Tenderly. Lovingly. The soft kiss on her forehead confirmed it. And it terrified her. If he was openly kissing her while she laid there in full cardiac arrest...

Are they calling it? Am I dead?

Her panic doubled when she felt the splash of a tear on her face. It trebled when the rhythmic crushing sensation stopped.

No! No! I'm sorry Carl! I'm sorry I couldn't hold on long enough!

I'm so sorry my love.

An intensely sharp sensation smashed through her panic. It cut across her belly, from centre to side. The panic faded into hope. There must be a surgeon there, and they were not waiting around. As hands plunged inside her she felt it all. It wasn't painful, pain still didn't register to her. If it had done, she expected it would have been excruciating. Instead, it just felt a strange mix of weird, wrong. And fascinating.

Not the time!

The surgeon dug around inside her for a short while, then stopped. Even with Anna's ineffective sense of time, she could tell it wasn't long enough to fix her mutilated insides. But they weren't giving up. The compressions had restarted while she was distracted, and they were still going.

A new sensation appeared on her chest, next to the savage thrusts. It was wet and slimy, spreading across her ribs and rolling over her breast. The crushing sensations stopped.

Another scalpel began to cut into her.

* * *

Carl hadn't wanted to consider it. The desperation it embodied. The sheer traumatic brutality of what he was thinking to do. And yet. Anna was losing blood as fast as they could pump it into her. Even with four lines from a rapid infuser. It was quite literally a do or die moment. He either did it, or the love of his life certainly died. It was extreme. A last-ditch hail-mary. It was the only thing left to try. As soon as it became clear to him that this was the only option, he knew there was not a person on earth that could stop him from trying it.

"Trish." He said, his voice carrying across the trauma room easily, despite the whining monitor, the slurping suction and the clinking of the trauma bed as Lucy compressed Anna's chest. "Prepare for a left side thoracotomy. I'm going to cross clamp the descending aorta. It should limit the bleeding and give preferential perfusion to her heart and brain."

He didn't wait for an acknowledgement, he simply spun on his heels and went to the cupboards at the side of the room, pulling out the sterile sealed thoracotomy tray, dumping it on a trolley before taking out a gelatinous block. He tore off his gloves, barely noticing the open fingertips where his nails had sliced through the latex from clenching his hands so hard. He ripped the plastic wrapping from a gelatinous puck, mashing the antiseptic substance between his hands, forcing it into every crevice and joint, spreading it up his arms to the elbow. A messy but acceptable replacement for properly scrubbing in, when time was of the utmost essence. And right then, it was. Anna had been in cardiac arrest for 16 minutes. At this point, single seconds mattered.

He double layered his gloves, put on a mask and plastic glasses, then made his way back to the bed. Anna's arm had been pulled out to a right angle, dangling limply from the side of the bed. Trish had cast away the shiny orange defib pad and coated the left side of Anna's chest with iodine, spreading it from her collar bone, all the way down across her breast and ribs, down to the previously sterilised area from the abdominal incision. She pulled apart the packaging of the tray then stood out of the way.

Carl didn't say anything. Neither did anyone else. His body language, even with his face hidden by the PPE, was all too clear. He picked up the scalpel, using his other hand to landmark each rib as he counted up the ribs to the fourth intercostal space. He didn't need to take a deep breath for this. His decision was made, his determination stronger than diamond. Lucy stopped her compressions and Carl lowered the blade.

The scalpel cut through her skin and flesh easily in a long line from her sternum to her side. He followed it with a couple more careful and deeper cuts, then dropped the scalpel back on the tray, picking up the surgical scissors. His fingers pushed into the pleural cavity with a tactile pop, pushing her lung gently out of the way as he inserted the scissors, cutting through flesh and muscle to create the opening.

A few moments later the scissors joined the scalpel and Carl took up the rib spreaders. As he cranked the handle he heard the slight pooping as the cartilage connecting Anna's ribs to her sternum, already weakened by the extended bout of savage compressions, gave way.

He wrenched the spreader further and further, creating a gaping hole that allowed him to ease her left lung out of the way, revealing it. His target. The most important thing to him. Not just in this moment, but for the past few weeks, physically and emotionally.

Anna's heart.

* * *

It lay there, unmoving. He'd listened to its thumping beats often ever since they’d discovered their shared interest. Watched its electrical rhythm on a screen. That wonderful little organ had pumped away for 26 years, day in and day out.

Until 17 minutes ago.

With such a low blood volume the chambers of Anna's heart looked pale and sunken. Without more blood it couldn't beat on its own. That was Carl's first task.

He took a cross clamp from the tray in his left hand, while his right slid underneath her heart and gently lifted it. Other than a few traces from the incision, there was very little free blood in Anna's chest. It made the aorta easy to identify and he carefully worked the clamp around the thick blood vessel. The clamp pinched the aorta, but he didn't put too much pressure on it. While they needed to reduce the blood loss, completely blocking the artery would make it difficult for Edwards to actually find the bleeders. You can't see what’s bleeding without any blood flowing. Besides, it could be tightened if needed.

With the clamp in place, it was time. He needed to provide that blood flow, for the surgeons and for Anna's brain. With her heart still resting in his right palm, he brought his left hand over to envelope it. Anna's heart was literally in his hands. He squeezed his hands together, palms first, pushing inwards and upwards from the apex of her heart. Squeezing blood from the muscles chambers, into her circulatory system. With the clamp limiting the flow to Anna's abdomen most of the blood was pushed towards her arms, brain, lungs and through the coronary arteries to her heart itself.

The rapid infuser was still pushing blood into her veins at an incredible rate. Between the new products and the artificially limited circulation, Carl could actively feel the chambers between his hands filling. The monitor chimed, drawing his gaze. He could compress Anna's heart by feel alone. The trace of the A-line that had previously shown only small bumps with the external compressions was now showing big powerful spikes. The numerical display also showed an improvement, with two numbers present now. It was only 70 over 20; but having a palpable blood pressure was infinitely better than the state Anna had been in just minutes before.

"That's it Anna." He said, looking towards her face. Her head was leaning to one side, dragged by the ambu bag and the tube it was connected too, the blue holder pulling at the corner of her mouth as it kept the tube secure. Sara was shining a light across Anna's eyes. She stifled a sob.

"F...fixed and dilated." She whined.

Carl shook his head, staring down at Anna's half lidded eyes, seeing the chestnut ring around the wide dark pools. "No. No, that's just the epi." He said. It was true that epinephrine caused the pupils to dilate. And she'd had several rounds already.

She'd also been in cardiac arrest for nearly 20 minutes.

"I need you to get your heart beating now baby." He didn't care that he was saying it aloud. Everyone knew of their relationship. Everyone had their own friendships with her. They were all invested, all desperate for her to live. "You hear me. Just beat your heart."

He wasn't religious. But he prayed to the universe that she would hear him. In the meantime, his hands continued their rolling motion, compressing her heart between his palms.

* * *

Edwards poked about inside Anna's belly as Carl went to work on her chest, but still couldn't find the source of the major bleeding. As Carl worked, with compressions stopped, Edwards watched the blood clear away thanks to the suction. She examined organs and blood vessels, trying to find the source, but with no blood pumping it was difficult. She found some damage to upper edge of the small intestine, but there wasn't enough to cause that much bleeding. She investigated deeper, pushing the intestines out of the way.

Carl got the clamp on and started the direct internal compressions. Blood began to spill out, but much more limited. Edwards directed the suction to the right spot, clearing it as she explored deeper. She was totally focused on her task, ignoring the events at the head of the bed. Finally she found the source of the bleeding.

"There's a big nick in the aorta!" She groaned. "It's going to be tough but I think I can repair it." She said, finally looking up at the others. The nurse at the head of the bed had tears in her eyes and Carl was frowning.

He looked at her. "Do it. Quickly." He commanded, squeezing Anna's heart with determination.

"Put a bit more pressure on the clamp." Edwards told Zach, Jessica's single suction tube could manage for a moment, and Carl was busy giving the compressions that were sending much needed blood to Anna's brain. The bleeding from the crucial blood vessel eased further, until it was little enough to allow her to work. "Good, now hand me 3-0 prolene." She kept a finger in the spot, feeling the small dribble of blood from the sliced vessel. The knife had cut through almost a third of the artery. The repair would have to be strong.

No one spoke as Edwards took a synthetic graft and began suturing it around the damaged section. She worked quickly, fingers steady and dextrous as they manipulated the hooked needle.

* * *

Carl kept up his compressions, squeezing Anna's heart between his hands. He could feel the chambers filling with blood, which his palms pushed out as they worked the muscle. It was encouraging. Without the active bleeding her pressure was coming back up. Blood was perfusing through the parts of her body that weren't clamped off. They were making progress, Anna's heart just needed to start beating.

"Push another epi into that central line." Carl ordered, Trish moving around to comply as Mark exchanged the blood bags again. Over a dozen empty bags now sat dumped on a counter. Carl had barely noticed when the sheepish blood tech came back with the second order.

"Ok, that should hold the aorta. Zach, ease that clamp off." Edwards called out. Carl watched as the trainee surgeon worked the clamp, glancing over at Edwards. She nodded along as if counting to herself, while her fingers carefully squeezed Anna's aorta just beneath the repair. "Yeah, we've got some perfusion and the repair is holding. I can see some other bleeding but no major haemorrhaging. We can keep the clamp at that and fix the rest later. I'm going to try and reconnect the renal artery now."

More good news.

It still didn't outweigh the fact that Anna's heart remained unmoving between his hands.

"Come on baby. You've got everything you need. It's time to come back to me." He whispered, staring down at her face, so slack and lifeless, eyes still half open, her grey tinged lips hidden behind the tube holder. Was there a little more colour to them?

He continued squeezing her heart, willing it to beat with each pump of his hands. Then he felt it.

He didn't need the sudden change of the monitors alarm to tell him what was happening in his hands. The persistent whine had switched to the familiar two tone as Anna's heart quivered and trembled in his grasp.

"She's fibrillating! Get them internal paddles charged to 30 joules!" He shouted, continuing to compress the shivering organ.

It was Trish again who leapt into motion, quickly taking the internal paddles from a drawer and connecting them to the defibrillator. She turned the dial and initiated the charging sequence. As she did, Carl looked at the clock. 4:06. Anna had been down for 23 minutes. There was still hope.

"They're charged." Trish said, holding the paddle out beside Carl, trying not to look at her friend’s heart as it squirmed between Carl's crushing hands. He pressed on the ventricles twice more before dropping Anna's heart, quickly grabbing the paddles. He placed the spoon shaped ends on either side, pushing them together to give some extra compressions as he lined them up in the correct position and waited for the surgeons to clear. Then he pressed them in hard, pining the shuddering mass between them. He pushed the buttons.

* * *

Anna's heart jumped as the shock blasted directly through it. She seemed to pull inwards ever so slightly as other muscles were also triggered. Her heart stopped dead for the briefest of moments, then returned to the uncoordinated quivering.

"No change, go again at 30!" Carl ordered, using the paddles again to squeeze Anna's heart. It wasn't as effective as his hands, but it was better than nothing for the few seconds needed to charge the small shock. "This time Anna. Come on now."

"Charged." Trish called again.

The second shock caused the same reaction. Anna chest twitched slightly. Her jumped and stilled. Then it resumed squirming.

"Damn it." Carl hissed, pulling out the paddles and handing them back to Trish. "Another epi, push it up to 40 for the next shock in one minute!"

His hands dove back into Anna's chest resuming the internal compressions. On one hand they were gentler than external compressions. Her sternum wasn't being crushed in, shaking her whole body and forcing the whole trauma bed to clink in rhythm. On the other hand, they were far more brutal. He was practically crushing her heart between his palms each time he pushed blood up and out and through her body.

He kept it up for a minute, ensuring oxygen was delivered around Anna's system, then he grabbed the paddles again. He scooped her heart between them and delivered the shock.

Anna twitched.

Her heart jumped.

It fell still.

It stayed still.

The monitor began to whine once more.

"Dr Teague!" An angry voice shouted from the doors to Trauma 3 as they burst open.

#Medical Drama #Anna Swift #Cpr #Defib #Intubation #Resus Writing #dark cardiophilia

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vampire-chokehold · 11 months

Text

land of monsters and gods

preface the thing lay still

▶ Her eyes were still open. It was, in fact, the only thing she could move at that moment. The pain was immense, and she had no breath left. Everyone was dead, although there was only one death that truly mattered to her. In front of her, after the direct and forceful strike of Akko wielding Santa Markovia's femur, Strahd had fallen to his knees. With the little strength he had left, he transformed into mist to return to his coffin, where, with a stroke of luck neither of them had, he would regenerate and end the battle. Sweat on his forehead dripping on either side of his face, his previously tied-back hair dishevelled and blood-soaked, strands sticking to his forehead. Remnants of other people splattered on the once immaculate armour, blood tracing constellations on the gleaming metal. His defeated figure, agonizing, the incessant gasps to cling to what was already impossible. She couldn't erase the image from her mind.

Then, footsteps shattered the silence in the tower. She knew it was the moment, but she was surprised when she saw Akko's figure looming over her. She couldn't see him well because her eyes were filled with tears. And his were too. Were his tears of sorrow? Or were they also of anger, like hers? He should have been happy, ecstatic, beside himself. Finally, all the promises would be fulfilled. Forgiveness was his forever. Why was Akko crying? Why was he looking at her like that?

They locked eyes for a few seconds, silently conveying all the things left unsaid. She didn't apologize, she had no kind words for him. Only curses escaped her. If she could have bitten her own tongue, she would have poisoned herself. He didn't apologize either for what he was about to do.

Akko pulled out the stake that Ezmerelda had given him. The wood felt smooth in his hand. He brought the tip close to the vampire's chest and held it there, their gazes still lost in each other's eyes. He hesitated, oh how he hesitated. She had been his friend, his adventure companion. They had experienced the worst moments of their lives together, as well as some of the best. But hesitation could never turn into forgiveness because she was stained with the blood of too many people.

A lightning bolt split the sky in two, and for a moment, the darkness in Barovia turned into light. She felt the thunder reverberate inside her as if it had shattered her as well, the shockwave reaching the ends of her body. Her fate was the same as Strahd's; their deaths had been sealed practically from the beginning. Everything had to have an end in order to start anew. They were bound together forever.

A sharp pain began to well up from her chest where her heart no longer beat. The stake had plunged deep, tearing through her skin. The blood remained still as if nothing had happened. As if every cell in her body was on fire, she felt her skin peel away and dissolve, her muscles and bones disintegrating. Akko took a few steps back, leaving the wood to sink into her body. A single tear slid down her face and onto the satin pillow of the coffin. Absolute and complete silence.

Nothing remained of what had once been the tiefling.

The horror that she had been was no more.

Akko leaned over to look inside the coffin. A dark silver ring with a ruby at its centre shimmered almost magically. When he held it between his fingers, he saw thick blood within the precious stone. A symbol of eternal love, a love that had to be destroyed at all costs. He tucked it into his pocket. It was not a decision to be made without consulting his friends.

On his way to the door, he noticed the book resting open on a worn wooden table covered in torn and crumpled papers. He approached hesitantly because he knew it was not the time to investigate, but curiosity had always driven him to make questionable decisions. In cursive handwriting, he read the first lines of what seemed to be a diary.

PÉNTEK, TWELFTH MOON, 735

With his hands on my shoulders, we gazed at the picture of our future unfolding before us. In the darkness of the night, the campfires were mere orange dots scattered among the mountains. Silence reigned, but the next day the roads to our castle would be filled with all kinds of voices. Some would exclaim with joy, others with terror. I would hear yours among the rest of the commoners and instantly know that you had come to kill me. Hatred and rage are hard to swallow; they are always heard in words.

Nadia, will you come to my wedding too, or will you flee as you always do when things get ugly? It's okay; you don't have to be ashamed of your cowardice. I am too, a coward. My life has been a continuous forward escape. But that ends tomorrow. There is no more path to tread, and this time I won't jump off the cliff. I am ready to embrace my destiny.

"I'm proud of you, Vepharlim. I've finally found someone on my level. There are no more doubts. It's you."

He didn't want to read any further. His friend's words pierced his gut like thousands of knives. In that instant, he decided that his friends wouldn't know about the existence of that tome. The wound that Vepharlim had left in their hearts would take time to heal, but with her death, it had already begun to mend. Akko took the diary and put it in his backpack.

For the first time in a long while, unafraid of what awaited him outside, Akko left the tower, leaving behind a coffin that would never be occupied again.

A FEW YEARS LATER

Waterdeep hadn't changed much despite the years passing quickly and without respite. Its streets were still bustling with people of all kinds, regardless of the time, and the Yawning Portal Inn was no exception. Inside, people drank and chatted, laughter and commotion filling the place with a cheerful atmosphere that was always well received by both customers and staff. It seemed like it was going to be a calm night.

At a table near the door, Akko had left a jug of mead and a book with pages tinged red. He wrote thoughtfully along the edges of the pages with barely legible handwriting. His free hand held his head, the hair that was now slightly longer falling between his fingers. His glasses were starting to slip down his nose a bit. When he lifted his head to adjust them, he saw a diverse group entering the inn. Instantly, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He saw Nadia, Sabriel, Galánidas, and even Vepharlim in them. The group of boys and girls came in laughing, with the one in the front recounting a tale that the rest found terribly funny. When they sat at one of the more secluded tables, a man with a questionable appearance approached them.

Akko had unconsciously followed them with his gaze. Intrigued, he stood up to eavesdrop on their conversation. He could only catch the last part when the man asked them to take a carriage to Barovia. Those words sounded too familiar to him. A succession of images began to appear in his mind, memories of what felt like a past life. It felt as if it burned him, so he took out the ring he had worn around his neck since that day when they managed to break the curse. He took off the pendant and examined the ruby very carefully. It was empty. The blood that had once filled the stone was no longer there.

His chest tightened, and he heard Nadia's words in his head. Perhaps they should have listened to her and destroyed it as soon as it came into their possession. Was it possible that the curse still haunted the poor inhabitants of Barovia? Had it all been in vain? No. Even if the curse had returned, there was no reason to lose hope. He now possessed not only vast magical knowledge but something even more valuable: Vepharlim's own words. He took out the diary that had always accompanied him, just like the ring, and slammed it on the table in front of the group of adventurers.

"If you're going to Barovia, I'll accompany you. But first, you have to read this tome. It is of vital importance that you do."

One of the girls looked at Akko very seriously and dragged the diary towards herself. Its brown leather cover had slightly bent corners from use. She looked back at Akko, who hadn't averted his gaze and now had both hands resting on the table, expectant. She opened the diary and began to read.

masterlist

#curse of strahd #strahd von zarovich #dnd #dungeons and dragons #fanfic #the damned five #land of monsters and gods

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laspocelliere · 7 months

Text

Day Thirty: “Amity”

Peace between nations came at a price.

Sometimes, that price was extraordinarily lengthy negotiation meetings.

Conversation had rambled on at length for several hours now, and showed no sign of slowing. The smallest benefit to having the Scions and their Warrior of Light present wasn’t merely for optics for anyone who heard of the conclave, either; having those who were physically on the ground dealing with everyday scuffles and overarching conflicts had provided a perspective that past negotiations had been sorely missing. Their champion, in particular, was a unifying piece; she’d been on the ground in every nation, and could listen to people’s concerns like no other. Though she contributed little by way of conversation – she’d always been one to keep her words close to her chest – what resulted was still malms beyond what the leaders would have been able to accomplish alone, with only their own nation’s interests at heart.

Aymeric’s heart burned with quiet, fierce pride, one that didn’t reflect anywhere on his face. That she had chosen him, of all people, to lower her defences for, was impossible.

And the fact that he couldn’t hold her hand through it all was one day going to tear them both apart.

They sat across the table from each other, never meeting each other’s eyes for longer than was professionally necessary. They were experts at this dance, and Aymeric would almost be offended at how easily even those closest to them brushed off his obvious infatuation with her as impossible, if it weren’t so critical to both of their safety and wellbeing that they do so.

No one could know.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t tell her how very much he adored her anyway.

It had become an underhanded game, in its way. When all eyes were on Kan-e-Senna as she laid out her measured reasoning, he would cast a burning glance towards his wife, and know she’d felt it by the way her spine would shift, ever so imperceptibly.

A few beats later and she would retaliate, pulling her hair absently over one shoulder to expose the long line of her bare neck, and his pulse beat that much faster even as his face remained a mask.

It was well that he couldn’t reach her across the enormous strategy table, else his self control would be even more severely tempted.

All while not a single other occupant at the session was any the wiser.

“We’re getting nowhere today,” Alisaie finally groused, slapping her hands on the table. “We’ve been at this for hours, and no closer to a solution. I say to hells with any more talk until we make more progression on the ground.”

Alphinaud made a quiet, pained noise at his sister’s lack of tact. “Aye…I think a break would be prudent,” he agreed primly, clearing his throat on the delivery. “I thank you all for your insight – it will prove useful, I’m sure.”

The Warrior of Light rose from the table without looking at him, and Aymeric had to drag his gaze away from the curve of her hip when she turned away. He rose when the others did, following the small group out the double doors and into bright sunlight that was still, impossibly, waiting for them after so many hours cloistered away. The conversation was friendly, even after so many disagreements, and it kept him cautiously optimistic that they were still continuing to move in the right direction.

“Will you return to Ishgard, Lord Speaker?” Alphinaud’s voice was warm, and Aymeric shot the young elezen a small, gracious smile.

“Shortly, I presume,” he agreed with a nod. “We’ve still much and more to work on within the city, and I often cannot travel for long periods due to all the resettling of affairs that must be decided upon.”

“We won’t take much more of your time then.” Thancred’s voice was almost lazy, and dismissive of yet another political figure that he seemed to have very little regard for. Unoffended, Aymeric nodded once more.

“Aye, I’ll likely take my leave come morning. As Mam’selle Alisaie so concisely pointed out, there’s little to be accomplished here without further groundwork.”

“Well you know you’re always welcome here.” Lyse’s smile was bright, hands on her hips and seemingly unfaltering in her optimism even by the length of the previous discussion. “Not just for these meetings, either. Diplomatic peace can’t just be all stuffy discussions and negotiations after all. One day you should stay longer, and we can show you some proper hospitality away from the political table, as it were.”

Aymeric didn’t need to turn and face towards the Warrior’s retreating back – headed, he knew, to the private bedchambers that he would later slip into in the dead of night, to have a proper goodbye with his wife before morning – to know that where no one could see, she was smiling, bemused by that sentiment.

Instead, he fixed Lyse with a calm, professional smile, and didn’t flex his fingers absently around a hand that wasn’t there. “Agreed. I’d like that.”

Out of sight, the Warrior of Light flexed her own fingers around nothingness, and slipped away from the group, unnoticed by everyone except the only man she’d truly come to that meeting to see.

Peace between nations indeed.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #wolmeric #secret relationship #vaguely stormblood era #but honestly not set in stone at all #holy shit lads we did it #a whole month of prompts #I'm SHOCKED

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olivieblake · 1 year

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Hi Olivie! Here is part 3 (and the last part for now) of the praise I’ve meant to give you throughout the year. If you can believe me please know I did have every intention of making this short but…

Spoilers for One for My Enemy included.

BESTIE DID YOU PUT SOME OF BABA YAGA’S INTOXICANTS IN THIS??? BECAUSE WOW WAS IT ADDICTING. Of course I HAVE to bring up MashaDima because damn the angst they had was INCREDIBLE. Now I am a lover of angst (one of my favorite things ever I deliberately find angsty fics and books to read because I love pain), and this one definitely gave me what I wanted. There were times I actually had to stop reading for the night because I physically could not move on from it. Here is the part that like really made me have to take a pause for a night LOL I texted all my friends these quotes and I said “how do I recover” and I never did so enjoy what sparked a breakdown:

“Don't make this about technicalities. We knew a long time ago we couldn't be together, Dima, we knew twelve years ago we didn't stand a chance. We chose our sides, and now-“ “No. You chose your side," Dimitri reminded her, stroking her hair as her eyes fluttered open, meeting his. "You chose. You didn't let me choose, did you?" She blinked. "What?" "You married Stas." His voice was gravely pained. "You shut me out. You gave your life to someone else." "Because I know, above everything, you are your father's son," she began, but Dimitri cut her off. "No. No, Masha, I am my own man." He stroked a line down the back of her neck, loosely cupping his hand around it. "Why didn't you let me choose you?" he asked hoarsely. "I would have gone to you, Masha, if you'd asked. You would've only had to ask, and I would have chosen you over everything."

"I love you," Dimitri reminded her, and reached up, touching her cheek as she stared at him; willing him, impossibly, to stop talking, or even less likely, compelling herself to go. "I will always love you, I will love you until the day I die-and if you're the one to kill me, then by all means, you should know without a trace of doubt you will not have turned me away. I will have spent the final beat of my heart loving you, just as I always have. Only you, Masha," he said, and she bent in anguish, resting her forehead against the still-sluggish motion of his chest. "Only you, forever, I promise."

They are plenty more quotes that had me like that, this book was a gold mine for quotes that will live with me forever. Like the quote how his love made it so she could never be weak and how her love made it so nothing will ever stop him (who gave you the right to wreck me with these please). I loved how you kept bringing up the sun, the moon, and the stars for them too. It got me all emotional every time. And their end had me full blown tearing up which never happens to me. I was so emotional (even though I was pretty sure their ending would be tragic it still broke me) but I’m also so happy they are getting their forever in the afterlife 😭. They will continue to cause me emotional distress forever as they now live rent free in my head so thank you bestie. Masha is also my girl, I’m not the eldest sibling (although I do only have one sibling and she has disabilities so I’ve been the older sister in a lot of ways), but I related to her a lot and I just love her so much, definitely one of my favorite characters that I’ve read of yours.

Moving on from MashaDima to other things I loved:

Of course, SashaLev. Their text messages had me laughing so much (like the serum for blushing that was $74.99) but also just in general. I loved their little reverse grumpy sunshine dynamic, as a grumpy gal myself I always love that dynamic. I’m very happy they got to write their long story together 🥺. I also loved all the sibling dynamics especially with the Antonova sisters, they felt so real. I definitely know I have had a red sweater incident with my own sister 😂. Loved the bridge too and all his sarcasm. The last thing I want to talk about is the quotes that dealt with grief and struggle/growth.

“You are not incomplete because a piece of your heart is gone. You are you, an entire whole, all on your own. If you have loved and been loved, then you are richer for it; you don’t become a smaller version of yourself simply because what you once had is gone.” and “Strength comes from struggle. Each time we bid farewell to a piece of ourselves we become different than we were. But each time we rise again in the morning it’s a victory. Keep your memories. Keep your emotions, Keep your pain. Use them. Happiness, contentment, they are dull but persuvies lures. A rosy disposition only means you miss what's lurking in the trees.”

The one about loss really stuck with me especially because as I’ve said before I lost one of my favorite people, my grandma, this year and some days that can still be really hard even though it’s been since February. I had the privilege of having her as my grandma and to be loved and to love her and I will always have those memories and be richer for it. So thank you for that. The second one sticks with me because of how true it is. It reminds me in part of coming out of depression and the struggles with that but also just in general too. Each day we can each battle different struggles but every day we wake up and fight again. I just love those two quotes so much and they have been sticking with me ever since I read them, so I just wanted you to know they mean something to someone.

I absolutely loved this story and I can’t wait for its release with new stuff (and more angst 👀 as you said on twitter). It actually comes out right before my birthday so I will be treating myself to all the editions for it.

Unrelated by I also saw your last newsletter and a line about a “The artist doing the end pages is still confidential but hooooooooly shit, you’re about to get your minds blown, especially if you love a morally grey angel and her golden retriever of a reaper.” had me SCREAMING. MayraCal are my beloveds I’m obsessed with them you don’t understand, it felt like a dream seeing that tease lol I’m so exicted!!!

I apologize that it’s taken so long to do all of these once again (and for my inability to keep anything short) but love you hope is all is well, have fun on tour!!! Will be back to send more praise after finishing more of your work.

-Amanda ❤️

I’m sad to hear about the loss of your grandma, but glad I could be there for you, however distantly. I spent a good amount of time working on the style aspects of OFME for its rerelease in april and I think there are more lines in it that feel… well, extremely OFME, haha. I always say that what some people want from atlas is actually more applicable in OFME, which is more of a romance and leans heavier on angst as opposed to irony. I do like to think there’s something extra propulsive about it compared to my other works, so thank you for the suggestion I’ve laced it with drugs. a very high compliment

and by now you guys know that @polartss is doing the MOD end pages—WOWWWOWOWOWOW are you going to die when you see them

#filling the bucket #one for my enemy #ofme (ov)#masters of death #mod (ov)

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