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froggibus · 11 months

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The Second Choice - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon S Kennedy x gn! reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2k

Summary: after losing Ada, Leon can’t get her off of his mind—and can’t stop comparing you to her

CW: angst, feelings of inadequacy, second guessing, unhealthy relationship, feelings of loss, allusion to death/loss, Leon comparing you to Ada, alcohol abuse, hurt comfort, groveling (but pretty weak cause I can never stay mad at this man), arguing, insecurities, allusion to panic attacks

honestly have been feeling super angsty the past few days and needed to write a lil angst as a treat to myself lol. definitely not my best work but whatever

————

It’s no secret that after he lost Ada, your boyfriend was never quite the same. Aside from having nightmares for months, he also never quite got over her.

You’d be lying if you said a part of you wasn’t relieved the day he told you the news. She was always a point of contention in your relationship and you felt as though Leon would never be able to fully give himself to you as long as she was in the picture. You thought this would be a new leaf for you guys, a step in the right direction to further progress your relationship.

You’ve never been more wrong.

The first few months of the aftermath were rough. Leon drank more and came home less, and the times he came home made you wish he never did. You tried to take a deep breath and turn the other cheek to his drinking. He’s in pain, you’d remind yourself. He needs time.

It all came to a head one night after he hadn’t been home in almost a week—too busy out on a binge. You had been texting and calling him the whole week, desperately clinging onto him when you knew he didn’t belong to you. He never did.

Leon got home with the worst hangover of his life, hoping to just crash in bed and forget for a while. It had been so long since he slept—the nightmares that plagued him chasing away any hope of rest. But today he felt tired enough and the comfort of having you at home was more than enough to have the man dreaming of sleeping the whole way home.

The last thing he wanted to see was his bed covered in your clothes, a suitcase thrown open on your side of the bed and you desperately rummaging through the closet. “Honey?” He spoke softly, voice raspy from the constant burn of alcohol.

Your head snapped up, red rimmed eyes meeting his. “You’re back.”

“What’s going on? What’s—what’s all this?”

You almost felt bad for him. “I need some time away, Leon. I-I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” He wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“This. The long nights and the drinking and you never coming home anymore. It’s killing me, Leon. And I,” your voice broke and you took a deep breath, “I deserve better.”

Leon felt his heart drop into his stomach, a weight forcing him onto his knees, He looked up at you with glistening eyes, “y/n, please don’t do this. Please. I-I love you, I don’t know who I am without you.”

You sighed, trying to swallow back the lump in your throat. It’s not fair, it’s never been fair. But it’s Leon, and you’ve always loved him, and no matter how angry you were in the moment, you knew he needed you.

“Alright,” you said quietly, placing the suitcase back in the closet.

Hope filled Leon’s eyes once more, like azure sparkling in sunlight. He wasted no time in striding over to you and wrapping his arms around you. He held you so tightly it hurt.

He whispered, “I promise things will get better from here. I promise, y/n.”

—

Leon doesn’t drink as much after that. He comes home at a normal time but even then it feels like your boyfriend is vacant. Gone. The closer he is to you, the further away he seems.

She’s always on his mind—and he makes that obvious to you.

Leon’s eyes practically glaze over the day he sees you wearing red. The garment clings to your body in such a perfect way, the scarlet complimenting all of your features perfectly.

You almost smile at the way his jaw drops. He’s never been a very reactive person so seeing him like this is enough to make you giggle. Of course, that’s before he speaks.

“Ada had a dress that was almost the exact same colour.”

Your heart sinks at the mention of her name. He’s grieving, you try to remind yourself. It's only natural she’s on his mind.

“Red was her favourite colour, she wore it all the time.”

You sigh, trying not to let your tensed muscles show. He misses her. It’s okay. But it’s not okay, and your stomach hurts and now you don’t want to go out at all.

“It’s kinda itchy,” you say quietly. “I’m gonna change.”

And you find yourself tossing the cloth into the bottom of your hamper, never to be worn again. In fact, you don’t feel like wearing red ever again.

The comparisons don’t stop after that day. Ada never seems to leave his mind, and any time he looks at you, there’s a look in his eyes that says he’s not really seeing you.

It feels like anything you do, anything you wear, any interest you have—she had it too.

You’re watching a movie on the couch, cuddled into his side. You have your arms wrapped around one of his, feeling the muscle beneath his skin.

You giggle and point at the tv, “I love him. He was my favorite character as a kid.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth and Leon turns to look at you. His blue eyes are clouded over with nostalgia.

“Ada always loved him, too. Only guy that ever made her flustered,” he shakes his head, smiling at the thought of her.

You can’t help but pull away from him and withdraw to your side of the couch. Leon looks at you in concern, head tilted to the side.

“Can—can you stop comparing me? I hate that,” your voice comes out exasperated and desperate.

Leon doesn’t say anything but a confused look takes over his face. His silence is almost worse than his comparisons—almost.

He’s at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say. That’s just how his mind works; he makes connections between things like that. A force of habit he gained from his strenuous line of work. He thought you understood that.

“Just,” you sigh, pushing yourself off of the couch, “nevermind.”

You trudge your way to the bedroom and throw yourself on the bed, closing your eyes and forcing the tears away. He promised things would get better. He promised.

—

Leon notices you withdrawing from him after that. Never in his life had he heard you sound so defeated and so angry. You’ve never been good at voicing your feelings, especially not to him, so he knew something was wrong the minute you spoke up.

“Honey?” He shuffles over to his side of the bed, the mattress dipping down under his weight.

You don’t answer, drawing your arms and knees closer to your chest. Leon sighs—he’s really messed up.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize I was making you so upset.” He takes a deep breath, “I just miss her so much, and you know how my brain works and—”

You whimper, “it’s not fair, Leon. You’re not being fair to me here.”

“I-I know! But you knew how things were getting into this so maybe you shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what, Leon?” You snap.

The blond stays awfully silent, staring at his clenched fists in his lap. He doesn’t know how to talk his way out of this—he doesn’t know how to keep you with him.

“I think I need some time away.”

Leon stares at you slack jawed. As soon as you stand up, he’s jumping to his feet too. He practically dives into your way, blocking your path.

You stare at him expectantly and try to avoid the burning in your eyes.

He looks at you dead seriously. “For every thing you have in common with her, there’s another thing that you don’t.”

His words are enough to get you to sit back down on the bed. The beating in his chest settles down as you do. You’re not leaving.

“She was really athletic for one thing, and a serial flirt. I mean, she was just so beautiful she could have any man wrapped around her finger. And she loved to fight and she loved gory movies and—why are you standing up?”

Leon stares at you in confusion. Did he say something wrong? He doesn’t understand.

Your mind races a million miles a second. It’s clear from the way he talks about her that he loved her in a way he could never love you. Even from the way he talked about her compared to you. Beautiful, athletic, charismatic. Everything you wished you were, everything he wishes you are.

“I need to get out of here, I-I feel like I can’t breathe.” You clutch your chest, shoving past him and grabbing your keys and your coat.

Leon watches you walk out the door, hopeless to do anything to stop you.

—

Leon waits for you to come home, sitting in a chair by the door for hours. The more time that passes, the more worried he gets that you’ll never come home. He taps his foot in anticipation—a habit he’d never had until now.

He can’t believe how caught up he got. He was so focused on the ghosts of his past that he forgot about his future. And sitting in this old chair, his ass hurting from sitting so long, he wishes he could go back in time and shut his own stupid mouth.

It’s nearly 1am when he hears your key in the door. Leon shoots to his feet, standing only a foot away from the opening door.

The minute you see him, you feel like crying again. You were hoping he would be asleep and you wouldn’t have to have this conversation now.

You close the door behind you and lock it, not even sparing a look at Leon as you make your way down the hall and to the bathroom. You only get halfway before Leon grabs your wrist and tugs you to face him.

He drops to both knees in front of you, looking up at you with desperate eyes. “Y/n.”

You shake your head and try to tug your hand away but Leon keeps a firm grip.

“I am so fucking sorry, y/n. I-I got so caught up in things that I didn’t even realize how I was treating you. I want to make it up to you.”

“You promised things would get better, Leon.” Your voice is shaking dangerously, “but all you’ve done is make me feel like her replacement. Like I’m the next best thing. And it has me second guessing everything. How do I know you even love me for me? How do I know you love me at all?”

Leon’s heart aches at your words. He knew he messed up but he didn’t realize the extent to how unloved he was making you feel.

“No, no, no. Y/n, no. Look at me.” His eyes are wet, and he looks so vulnerable sitting in front of you on his knees. “I love you. I love you. You and only you. You’re not her, and I know that. I never loved her in the same way I love you.”

Tears fall down your cheeks, splashing on the floor in front of you and Leon.

He keeps going. “You’re not a replacement. You’ve never been a replacement. You’re the best thing I could have asked for, and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately.”

Leon slowly rises to his feet, slipping his hands into yours. “Let me make it up to you. Please, let me make it up to you.”

You sigh, biting your lip and trying to force the tears away. “Leon…”

“Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how much I love you, y/n. I will do anything to make you feel happy and safe again.”

And looking into his eyes, you know he means that.

“Alright, alright, just—” you wipe your eyes and offer a weak smile, “let’s sleep on it, okay?”

Leon nods and lets you tug him to the bedroom. He still has a lot of work to do, but that can wait until the morning. For now, he’s just glad he has you back.

#resident evil 2 #resident evil x you #resident evil 4 #leon resident evil #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy angst #hurt/comfort #Leon kennedy hurt/comfort #Leon s kennedy hurt/comfort

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gaybitchfx · 1 year

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-🍓 Character(s): Douma

-🍓 Type of reader: M!Reader

-🍓 Category: NSFW

-🍓 Warning(s): possessive behavior, manipulative love & Stockholm Syndrome

-🍓 Edited: ❌

Your relationship with Douma was a healthy one from the very beginning. You both loved each other equally and showed it in many ways let it be by touch, gifts, etc... That changed for the worst.

Douma began to love you far too much to where he’d put a tracker in your phone so he could know where you were at all times.

If you came home even a few minutes late you’d get an ear full and sometimes a couple of slaps.

He’d comfort you right after, saying how he didn’t mean it and that he was just looking out for you. Being so stupid, you forgave him all because you loved him. How stupid you were. Before you knew it you were kept in the house not being able to leave.

“I’m only doing this because I love you okay?” Douma would say as he kissed your tear-stained cheeks and held your shaking hand which was caused by a recent panic attack. “I just want you to continue loving me no matter what, my love.” That ‘love’ was far gone. But you did as he asked so he wouldn’t hurt you. A month had passed and you decided to go with your plan to leave this cursed place. It was late at night and Douma was of course, asleep.

You knew where the extra key was and decided to try and use that to leave through the front door. What a silly move. When you made your way to the door your hands were shaking, the thought of freedom being on the tip of your tongue as you fiddled with the key. That was until you felt someone’s hand gently caress the back of your head before yanking your hair. A scream left your mouth as Douma dragged you, his grip on your hair tight and firm as he lead you to the bathroom. Surprisingly, the bathtub was already filled with water almost like he knew you were going to try and escape.

Try and leave him. As you cried for Douma to let you go that fell on deaf ears and before you knew it your head was forced under the water. You would kick and scratch, your screams muffled by the water. You could barely make out Douma’s face from under the water but just by a glimpse of his eyes, he had the intent to kill you. If you’re dead he wouldn’t have to worry about you trying to leave him. Douma wrapped his hands around your neck which was still submerged under the water till your flailing began to become weaker.

That’s when he pulled you back up. Letting out a gasp you instantly began crying and there Douma was, comforting you. “Don’t cry my sweet, I’m here~ Do you promise to only stay by me?” Douma pressed small kisses on the back of your neck as you nodded your head. “Yes..” You crooked out, your voice horsed. Since that day, you were chained by the leg to a metal pole that allowed you to go to places you needed to go to.

Everything was babyproofed from the number of times you’ve tried hurting yourself, but that didn’t last long. After being like this for so long this became a normal thing for Douma and especially you. To you this was love. Douma depended on you, but not as much as you depended on him. Always greeting him when he’d come home, sitting with him by the table, and eating together.

Do things ‘normal’ couples did. “I love you so much.” You hummed as you hugged Douma, he held you close with a smile present on his lips.

“I love you more.” He said and kissed your forehead, your tired eyes staring back into him with no light shining in them like the first time you two met. Your eyes used to be filled with life, but now they resembled the dead eyes of a fish. One of your friends had called the police after not seeing you for such a long time. They were concerned and had a feeling Douma had something to do with this. Officer Tengen had brought backup just in case. When they were finally inside everything was a mess. Trash bags were piled up onto each other in corners, the whole house was barely illuminated with light.

Their attention was brought to the sound of chains dragging against the floor. Tengen signaled the other officers to have their guns drawn as they slowly moved towards the room. “Freeze!!” Tengen would shout as he pointed his gun into the room only to see you on the floor and Douma brushing your hair.

In a matter of seconds, everyone knew what was going on and instantly put Douma in cuffs, him screaming profanity after profanity as he was dragged away from you. You on the other hand were taken for treatment both physically and mentally. You never stopped screaming for Douma on the way to the hospital till you tired yourself out.

By the time you arrived at the hospital, you didn’t do anything. Only asking for Douma and Douma only. When they told you he wouldn’t be around you anymore you lost it. Grabbing everything in sight and throwing it at the officers, doctors, and nurses. Even trying to hurt yourself to the point they had to tie you to the bed. When your friends came to see you you nearly hurt one of them, the same goes for your parents. That was not the person they knew before.

The damage has already been done, there’s nothing they could do besides pray.

Pray for your sanity and mental well-being to go back to how it originally was.

#douma demon slayer #douma x male reader #douma x y/n #douma x you #douma x reader #fiction #anime #angst #angsty and sad as hell #male reader #kimitsu no yaiba #demon slayer x male reader #I’m sorry 🧍🏽

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cassiopeiasdaughter · 9 months

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the great war

Theodore Nott xfem!reader

part of the midnights collection

December 31st, 1998

Dear Diary,

So much has happened, I don’t know where to start.

The past month has been eventful, to say the least. As far as the Horcrux hunt goes, the boys managed to destroy two of them, almost one month ago, and Hermione thinks they’ll be going to Hogwarts by the end of January.

Hogwarts has been shut down, unofficially; classes have stopped and the only ones staying there are the teachers and the students who have nowhere else to go. Professor Lupin said that most of the muggleborns have fled the country with their families.

I worry about the boys going back there, especially now, it isn’t safe with Snape as Headmaster and the Carrows there. They shouldn’t be going there alone.

The attacks against muggleborns and muggles, are more frequent now than ever. There is a station on the radio, spreading news and updating the supporters of the Order.

From what we’ve been hearing, things aren’t going as well as we’d like them to. Moody says that, even if we destroy the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort, there will still be so many Death Eaters and werewolves left and they will try to continue his work.

Not to mention, the politicians who secretly support him. It just feels like no matter what we do, they will still keep appearing. So how will it ever end?

You feel panic creeping up on you again, and you stop for a moment, laying your head on top of your desk, hoping that if you shut your eyes, you will forget everything for just a few seconds. But you don’t. Instead you decide to focus on something else and you continue writing.

Andromeda Black has been visiting us, her husband is also fighting and her daughter moved in with us. And, in case it wasn't clear, she is Dracos aunt. I think she wants to fix their relationship, Narcissa and Andromeda were close growing up and from the way she talks about her sister I can tell how much she misses her.

Draco is the only person tying her to her sister- and her old family. I am sure she is proud of him. Proud of all of them.

We, have also grown closer to them, it is ridiculous to think how every time I’d stumble across Pansy Parkinson at school, I would feel anxious over the things she would say to me, but now- now we laugh together almost every night.

We all sit together and talk about school and our past, but only about the good stuff. Pansy makes fun of Theo and Draco, and how difficult they were back at school. How Draco would constantly talk about Harry when they sat in their common room.

She remembers how one time, Blaise invented a drinking game, where every time that Draco would mention Harry, they would take a shot of whatever alcohol they had. She woke up with a pounding headache the next morning next to Theo who looked sick and Blaise who had gone to the bathroom at least three times.

And worst of all, Draco was sober and kept on blabbering about quidditch and how unfair it was that “undisciplined-Potter” won almost at every game.

Pansy told us the other day that even if things go terribly and we all die, at least she made girl-friends and didn’t end up alone with a whiny Draco and a moody Theo- her words not mine.

Theo and I have also grown close this past month. After the last time I wrote you, he visited me in my room and asked if he could sleep here. I let him in and turned the rug by my bed into a mat. Anyway, he slept there that night, and the next one and everynight after that.

He says he doesn’t get nightmares anymore, he feels safe now; and he can fall sleep easier. And to be honest, I have also been sleeping better, ever since that night. It isn’t only easier for me to fall asleep, but when I wake up I feel safe, and I can calm down faster than when I am on my own.

I didn’t realize how much I craved to be near someone until Theo started sleeping here, how easier it gets when you have someone by your side.

He usually knocks on my door a few minutes before midnight, we lay in our beds and talk until one of us falls asleep.

He is kind and funny, and if it weren’t for the War I could fall we could be more than housemates-who-can’t-sleep-by-themselves and-need-eachother. But, we could die at any moment and living in a fantasy will not help me; and neither will getting my hopes up over nothing.

We spent Christmas morning together, we woke up very early, and those who were not on a mission were still asleep. He made us spiked-hot chocolate, and we exchanged Christmas stories, until the others woke up.

That morning he told me about his childhood and how he would spend Christmas with the Malfoys, because his father didn’t want him around.

He asked me about my childhood and I told him about visits at the Burrow, and that one year when I spent Christmas at Hogwarts; raiding the kitchen with the students who were also there; and then listening to Hagrid’s stories at night.

Last week, I think the day after Boxing Day, I heard him talking in his sleep. Usually, he is the one to wake me up, whenever I have a nightmare, but that day the opposite happened.

He was thrashing in his sleep and mumbling words that I can’t remember, he told me once that he dreams of Blaises death. I woke him up and

You raise your head and look outside your window as you recall that night.

You were on your knees next to him, desperately trying to wake him up. Tears were dropping on his cheek and he kept grunting as if he was in physical pain; you shook his shoulder hard enough that he woke with a deep sigh.

The look on his face haunts you to this day, it is something you never want to see again. You lightly grabbed his face and whispered “It was only a dream.”, but he didn’t seem to believe you. He looked at you in silence, and grabbed your wrist, willing you to stay there with him and not move.

After a few minutes, he let you go and whispered “I am sorry.”, you could have just gone back to your bed, he was fine, he had snapped out of it. But you felt something tugging at your chest, and you just couldn’t let go.

You grabbed your blanket from your bed and draped it over you, as you laid down at his makeshift bed. He was nervous at first, at how different this was, from your usual sleeping situation, but after a few seconds he laid next to you and guided you to rest your head on his shoulder, while he kept you close with his arms.

You slept in each others arms that night, but when the morning came you woke up alone with only his scent there to hug you.

You never spoke about that night, and you still pretend it never happened…

In a few hours it will be new years day. 1999. I feel numb, it almost doesn’t feel real. Time is moving and the world is changing, every day, but I feel stuck. I am stuck inside this house and in this war that no-one asked for.

I keep losing people and I can’t see how that is ever going to change. I just hope, wish, that the War ends this year, and the new millennia doesn’t start with violence and death. Is it selfish to also wish that I make it out alive, without losing anyone else that I love?

You hear a knock on your door and quickly hide your diary. “Come in.”, you say and the door opens to reveal Theo in his usual sweatshirt, holding his pillow with an apologetic smile.

It is the same look he has every night, he told you once that he feels awful for burdening you like this, and as he tried to leave your room you stopped him “I want you here, it helps me too.”, you explained and he laid back down.

“Hi.” You say softly and move to your bed.

You both lay down, you on your bed and he in his; but you are both on your sides, facing eachother.

“Theo?”, you softly ask and he replies with a “mm”

“Do you think it will end?”

“The war or the world?”, he asks yawning

“Both?”

“Yes.” , he replies softly

“Which one?”

“Both.”, he says as he rests his head on his head and looks up at you “I just don’t know, which of the two, we’ll get to experience.”

“What will you do, if you survive the war?”, you ask, wanting to change the subject before a full blown existential crisis hits you, minutes before the new year.

“It depends.”, he says seriously

“On what?”

“In your scenario, will you also have survived the war?”

“I hope so.”, you say with a laugh

“Well then, there is this house that I used to visit, with my parents, when my mother was still alive”, he quickly tells you “It is in the countryside and the healers said that it would be good for her health, to live away from the city.”

“I would go there, and you should come with me.” He says and earns a surprised look form you

“You can see the stars from there, very clearly, because it is so far away from the city lights”, he begins describing in a way that tells you that, this house and perhaps the memories he has from there are significant to him.

“And it is by the coast, so you can sit by the beach and forget about anything that troubles you. And it has a huge library, with so many books, you would love it there.”, he finishes, and you can tell by his movements and the way his eyes stare into yours, that he is getting tired as each minute passes.

“Mmm sounds nice.”, you reply slowly

“What about you?”, he asks then

“Hm, if I survive this war and you are still alive I’ll make you take me to that house, because now I am curious to see it.”, you say smiling, earning a smile back from him “You don’t go there anymore?”

“No, my father couldn’t visit it; after my mother passed, it reminded him of her.”

“Do you remember her? Your mom?”, you wonder

“No, not really. I remember she was kind and quiet. Maybe it is better she died, I don’t think she would’ve survived this war.”, he says now with a hint of nostalgia in his words

“You never talk about your parents.”, he points out, not in an accusing manner, but curious.

“Yeah, I- miss them, too much. I- it hurts talking about them.”, you say and it is true.

Whenever you think of your parents questions are shot at you; Are they okay? Are they safe? Will I ever see them again? It is easier to try and forget about them; for now, until it is safe for them to be with you again.

“It is almost midnight.”, Theo says, snapping you out of your thoughts

“It is almost new year.”, you exclaim “Come here, for the countdown.”, you ask craving the feel of someone near you.

He lays on your bed, facing you still, and instinctively he grabs your hands in his as he looks at you; opening himself to you, letting his emotions and thoughts show. Letting you see them.

“Will you really take me to your lake house if we make it out alive?”, you ask half-jokingly

“It’s a beach house. And yes.”, he replies seriously

“Then I will stay alive for that.”, you promise him. You will stay alive because the world is worth saving, you will stay alive because he gives you hope and something to look forward.

You will stay alive for yourself and the people you love, but also for him. The sound of fireworks snap you out of your thoughts.

The New Year has officially come. And the person you are spending this moment with is Theodore Nott, how could anyone ever prepare you for this moment?

What could they say to convince you that someday, you would lay in your bed with Theodore Nott, exchanging happy new year wishes and laying bare your souls to eachother. Exposing every dark thought and worry, opening your hands to receive the other persons concerns and fears.

“Happy new year.”, he tells you

“Happy new year.”, you wish back and look at his face more clearly now. You notice his eyes and how easily you can lose yourself in them, and you stare at his lips as if they are the medicine to cure your symptoms. Bring you back to life.

“Theo.”, you say; barely whispering

“Yes.”, he replies in the same tone, now looking at you like he can read your thoughts. His eyes scan your face, expectantly, wanting. As if he is starved.

His look is enough for you to lean in and whisper to him, when your lips are a breath away “For good luck. For the New Year”

And with that you close the gap between you two. He slowly closes his eyes and grabs the back of your head carefully with his free hand, pulling you closer to him. You place your hand on his shoulder, resting your body on him.

The way his lips kiss yours feels like a drug. This alone, is worth fighting for. To be able to kiss him, like this. And it is solely because when you kiss eachother, it feels as if a weight is lifted off your chest, as if his hands help you carry the stone to top of the mountain.

Normally, you would blame yourself for being weak; you should be able to handle things by yourself, you shouldn’t need others to survive, that is what your mind would normally tell you, and yes normally you would agree. But there is nothing normal about this life you are currently living.

So you keep kissing him and when his mouth travels south to your neck, causing you to let out a small sigh you don’t stop him.

“For good luck.” he repeats as he takes off your shirt and kisses your skin.

“For good luck.” you repeat as you pepper kisses along his jaw and neck, while he tugs at your hips to remove the rest of your clothing.

And, later when you lay together with your clothes discarded on the floor, with his arms around you; holding you impossibly close to him and his breath fanning rhythmically in your ear, tickling you softly, you try to convince yourself that it was in fact just for good luck.

A/N: feedback and criticism are appreciated and needed ⭐️🤍 This will be continued this has been poorly proofread so, I am deeply sorry for the mistakes 🫣

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott imagine #harry potter fanfiction #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader #second wizarding war #AU #fluff #theo nott fluff

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bbcphile · 25 days

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WIP Wednesday (MLC longfic again!)

Now that my amnesia fic is posted, it's time for more of my MLC longfic! At long last, LLH is awake again . . . and not doing that well.

(You can find earlier excerpts here.)

CW/TW: Panic attack, bicha flare, suicidal ideation

Something was different. The pain was there as always, waiting to devour him whole once he acknowledged it, but there was something else, something blanketing it, muting it somehow.

Li Lianhua stretched out his senses like a limb and tried to make sense of it.

Ah. Warmth. That was the strange sensation. Warmth–heat, even–all around him–his back, his chest, his legs, even his fingers, which had been more like blocks of ice than flesh and blood these last few months.

He leaned back, pushing into the banked heat behind him. The solid core of warmth tucked against his front from navel to neck twitched, then pressed against him more securely, as though it could make a home for itself inside his sternum, ribs, and spine and heat him from within.

He felt warm everywhere.

Well, almost everywhere.

He rolled forward slightly, wiggled further down on the bed, and tugged the core of warmth up higher. He curled his arms and shoulders around it and nestled the bit in his hand between his face and the pillow until it cradled his cheek.

Much better.

He smiled into his new, warmer pillow and let himself start to relax back into sleep.

“Xiangyi?”

The warmth against his face gradually took shape as his skin and mind began to wake. That was a finger–no, several fingers. A hand. A large hand. And those calluses–how could he not know them when they had clashed steel with him, choked him, clinked brimming cups of wedding wine with him, even been inside him, taking him apart with a gentleness he hadn’t known they could profess.

He let his awareness spread throughout his body, setting aside the pain, and yes, that was a-Fei’s chest he had pressed himself against, like Huli Jing requesting head scritches, and those were a-Fei’s legs, tangled with his, and that was a-Fei’s breath rustling his hair–less now than it had been a moment ago–and that was indeed a-Fei’s arm he was clutching like a child would a favorite toy.

But a-Fei had been holding him first.

Why was a-Fei holding him? It was one thing to wake up in each others’ arms in the newly wed room, after their . . . exertions. Before a-Fei knew that any real dream of a future was doomed to fail.

But to hold him now? After he’d given away the wangchuan flower and left a-Fei behind, left their promise behind? To hold him like he still mattered. Like he wasn’t a curse who killed everyone he’d ever cared about. Like he was some sort of treasure . . .

Treasure . . .

Cabinets stained in blood, Xiaobao’s blood–

“Xiaobao,” he gasped, flinging himself free and to his feet. Where was Xiaobao? He had to find him, had to heal him, before it was too late–

“Xiangyi! Sit down!” A-Fei caught him as his legs buckled and lowered him back onto the bed.

Why wasn’t Xiaobao here? Had he killed him, too, just like he killed everyone he cared about?

“Duobing,” a-Fei roared. “Get in here. Now!” Callused fingers cupped both sides of his face, turning it gently but firmly toward him. “Xiangyi, look at me. He’s alright. He’s on his way.”

“How could he be alright?” Li Lianhua gasped, clutching at his shoulders, the already blurry world turning more hazy. “I saw the blood!”

“I healed him. He’s safe,” a-Fei said, cradling his head as though he could hold the shattering pieces of his mind together. “Now breathe.”

Li Lianhua choked on an inhale, his lungs spasming, only managing to draw in a desperate wheeze.

A-Fei cursed and dropped to his knees by the bed, pressing one hand to Li Lianhua’s back and the other to his chest, filling both with a familiar warmth that began to break apart the iron bands strangling his throat and lungs. “Try again. Feel my hands. Press against them when you inhale.”

The next breath shook and spluttered like a dying candle but some air squeaked through nonetheless.

“Good.” A-Fei gave his back a short supportive pat. “Again.”

Lotus Tower shook as footsteps pounded toward the bed. “What’s wrong?” panted a beautifully familiar, impossible voice. “Xiaohua’er?”

“Bicha,” a-Fei growled, rising from the floor to kneel on the bed at his side, his hands still bracketing him on either side. “He thinks you’re dead. Show him the scab.”

“Shit,” the Xiaobao-shaped hallucination cursed. It seemed especially cruel of hallucinations to now match the blurriness of their surroundings. It made them seem far too real.

The hallucination knelt at his feet and took his hands. “It’s me, Xiaohua’er,” it said, tears in its eyes and voice. “I’m alright. A-Fei healed me. See?” It brought his hand up to a spot on the back of his skull and pressed his fingers to a crusted, raised line on its scalp. “I’m right here and I’m alright. Do you believe me?”

He could feel it. Why could he feel it? His fingers had always passed through hallucinations before. And even when he’d dreamt of Xiaobao, or of a-Fei, of holding them again, it hadn’t felt as real as this. His fingers traced the ridges of the scab–a perfectly neat seam–then the silk curtain of hair that covered it.

This was Xiaobao’s hair. The texture, the thickness, what he could see of the color–no hallucination could do justice to this.

This was his Xiaobao.

He was alive.

“Xiaobao,” he cried, turning his head this way and that to make sure it was the only injury. “You’re alright!”

Xiaobao’s bright smile shone through despite the haze his eyes imposed on everything. “Told you. No harm done. So focus on taking care of yourself, ok, lao huli?”

Li Lianhua huffed out a wet attempt at a scoff and bopped the side of his head. “No harm? What do you call this?”

Xiaobao captured his hands with his and brought them down from his head to rest between them. “Less serious than a Bicha attack. How are you feeling?”

Li Lianhua blinked. A Bicha attack? He turned his attention inward to his qi, and–

Ah. There was a-Fei’s Beifeng Baiyang, somehow wrapped around his Yangzhouman and pushing the last of the poison back into the recesses where it would lie in wait, coiled and ready for the next attack. The black tinge was almost gone from his veins.

He had been so worried about Xiaobao that he hadn’t even realized.

A-Fei had probably saved his life. Again.

He shouldn’t have bothered.

#mysterious lotus casebook #lhl #WIP Wednesday #lianhua lou #my fic #Di Feisheng #Li Lianhua #Fang Duobing #Difanghua #Things will get much better for LLH #starting in the next chapter #If tumblr blocks this excerpt from the MLC tag bc of my tws like it's done on previous weeks I will be so mad #I literally just finished writing this 5 minutes ago #this is the shortest turnaround time ever btwn when I've written something and posted it #cue internal screaming #also I am trying a new narcolepsy med which means thinking feels weird and consequently writing is a massive struggle #so I really hope this lives up to expectation

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eluxcastar · 1 year

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*slaps my brain* this bad boy can churn out so much angst. Greetings, i arrive with pantalone x male reader : -- reader + a group of agents are sent on a mission. They're ambushed by the enemies (some rebellion group against the fatui) and everyone is killed except the reader. -- reader begs for their life and agrees to join their side and give out info about the fatui (But in their head, reader just comes up with an improvised plan to use this opportunity to lie and double cross the enemies) -- (un)fortunately, one agent survives... and delivers the news that reader has betrayed the fatui... to both Pantalone and Arlecchino. -- Poor banker man has a short breakdown before realizing that the Knave would be sent out to hunt down the traitor. (ouch) -- Perhaps it was just a few crumbs left of his love and trust for you, that convinced him to take over the duty of hunting you down. Perhaps he just wanted to see you one last time. -- He faces the brunt of Arlecchino's mockery and amused pity when he tells her that he's gonna kill you himself. -- Reader thankfully succeeds in escaping the enemy's headquarters. So imagine their panic and surprise when halfway into returning, pantalone pulls up and aims a gun at their head and demands an explanation (congratulations! both of them have trauma now! Reader is now paranoid in every way to never disappoint Pants every again! Pantalone now has paranoia for betrayal!) -- for roughly a month, reader moves out from their shared bedroom and occupies a guest room(fun!)

Super (un)happy (un)fun times with Pantalone ❤️

── ୨୧：pantalone x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: an expedition gone wrong as you are attacked by a group of rebels who win only by catching you off guard, they wipe almost your squad out, at least so you thought, and will little other option you decide it's best to choose the humiliating one and get on your knees to grovel and beg for your life like some poor dog

୨୧﹑genre :: angst

୨୧﹑content :: masc reader, mentions of blood, injury, death, reader does technically get kidnapped, the root of their problems is a lack of communication fml

୨୧﹑words :: 7.2k

nom nom nom this THIS this has eaten my brain since it was sent to me, this little thought that I wanted to do right away but was in the middle of Capitano and didn't wanna make that anon wait longer than the like two months they already had which was like two months BUT I SAID IN THAT ARLECCHINO POST that it was coming directly after Capitano so now I am LEGALLY obligated to do it (I have literally put off the Pierro request I said I would do since December) (I just want an excuse)

there may not be a post tomorrow because I'm tired and in pain so if that's the case the requests will resume either Monday or Tuesday

I also just liked that this request was like "These events, this order" cause it's so easy hmu anytime this literally ended up my longest post. also this kinda seems like it could even be the predecessor of the events of the previous post if only for a few details which tbh is an interesting thought

Somewhere along the road, you got to the point where you were surrounded by corpses; those used to be your comrades. You stare through bleary eyes at your weapon tossed aside on the ground. If only you could move freely, you could reach it. You might be ok if that was possible, but it's not. You lay surrounded by enemies who kicked at your comrades' feet to finish off whichever of them wasn't already dead. Quickly you have to think, lest you become the next one to get a sword to the back of the neck.

Ignoring a nasty knock to the head and some shallow scrapes, your health is the least of your worries. You have a splitting headache and a bit of trouble focusing. You can make out your weapon enough to reach for it; it's close enough if you're not mistaken, but if you're wrong, you'll likely end up as a red stain in the snow.

Your hand finds the hilt of your blade as a boot crushes the backs of your knuckles, barely able to cry out when the weight leaves your head. There's a relentless kick to your ribs, wedging a foot under and flicking you onto your back. The tip of a sword finds your throat, sharp like a prick against your skin; the wielder is clearly not worried about making you bleed as you are.

"Do you believe you've achieved something?" You ask, slowly smiling up at the man who looms over you. His foot rests on your stomach just enough that it doesn't hurt, though you suspect it will change quickly. "Killing only grunts, you're so impressive."

He knows you're mocking him; you can tell he knows as he presses his foot down until you grimace from the pain and then some.

Your ribs still hurt, and they'll probably bruise later.

You just aren't thinking about that because you don't want to die.

You don't understand why you're, for some reason, not as willing to die as you promised you would be. When you set out on this mission, you were prepared for the idea that you would be happy to go out in the name of the Tsaritsa, but...it felt much different when faced with the situation.

It would be the end. Never again would you see anything you love in this world. You would never see your lover or your family. You'd never get to train another new squad of rookies and never go home to eat a warm meal, to feel how stupidly soft Pantalone's hair is, or get to kiss him. You already know you won't see your squadmates again, and they wouldn't see you no matter how shameful you become for the sake of your life.

If nothing else, you would escape, and with all hope of saving everyone else long gone, that much is all you could ask for.

Your dignity isn't worth dying for.

"Wait," you speak out, placing your aching hand around the blade of the sword to stop any sudden movements, not fully registering the choice as strange. "If you spare my life, I'll give you information about the Fatui." You're relieved to feel the sword pull away ever so slightly, though the sting doesn't subside.

The man looks sceptical of you, rightfully so, considering your actual plan. "How do I know your information will be worth sparing you?"

"I'm the captain of this team, I'm very useful."

He appears to consider your offer for a moment before abruptly snatching the sword away, running a shallow cut across your palm, making you once again cry out as that poor hand has seen much better treatment. Immediately it blooms with fresh blood that pours down your hand as you roll yourself over to clutch it with your good hand.

Tears prick at your eyes, your vision blurring, no doubt the result of the cold making your wound hurt like hell.

"I'm not convinced you're really so dedicated to living since you seem to be able to run your mouth so much." Now he's taken to mocking you, wearing a smug smirk like he came here to see a fatuu on his knees kissing his boots for a chance at redemption. He wants to watch while his comrades just watch him pull the poor little fatuu's strings. "Get on your knees and beg for it."

In your mind, you know this is what survival demands, but you resist solely because of your stubborn pride, which tells you that it is not something you are willing to do. You tell yourself this is necessary for your plan to work, for Pantalone to not receive the news that you've been killed in an ambush attack on your squad. If you can prevent even just that, you will gladly get down on your knees in the snow to prove a false promise that you will supply information to them, if only to buy time to find an escape plan.

You push yourself onto your knees, crawling a few feet ahead before placing your forehead to the snow and trying to ignore the burning pain in your palm that tells you to move it now. You can't, so you must endure it with a shaky voice.

"Please spare me… I don't want to die. I'll do anything you ask if you spare me, I swear, I'll betray the Fatui, give you any information you want! Please just spare my life."

someone grabs you by your hair, and when you're jerked up to see who it is, a different person from the man who was previously hurting you, this time a woman. You doubt she's eager to let the chance to beat a poor little fatuu slip away, either. How she smiles down at you so tenderly yet so sadistic tells you so. At the very least, you seemed to please her, and what more could you ask for? If even just one wanted to, they would likely spare you.

"He's so eager to please…." She lets go, and her hand travels down to stroke your cheek, making you fight the urge to pull away. "Let's keep him."

Those weren't exactly the words you aspired to hear when you joined the Fatui; you won't complain now that they're saving your life.

It was only supposed to be a simple mission. Many hours of silence proved that to be incorrect. Some time since your team set out, only one fatuu returns to Pantalone's awful habit of pacing like the floor owes him money. Worse still, that fatuu isn't you. It's not exactly a sight you see every day, Pantalone stuck in discontented thought as he stares blankly through everyone he looks at. You're supposed to be working under him. Why is nobody telling him anything? He doubts that it's as simple as not knowing.

Everyone must be aware of the undeniable fact that, right now, your life is in grave danger. The second thing everyone must know is that you will remain in danger for as long as he is not given the route you took when you set out to—

"Pantalone, a skirmisher from the expedition team has returned." Pantalone startles, his thoughts interrupted as Arlecchino approaches. She is tailed by a slow and trembling man, freshly home and the victim of severe frostbite. Blood still clings to his clothes from the wounds he bears. She brought him so quickly that he didn't even get a chance to have his condition treated. "He says that the news he came back for is important, so I've spared ending his life for desertion. It still doesn't explain why he chose not to die along with the others."

"Is that important?" a part of him is filled with dread as he knows you would never allow yourself or anyone else to turn tail and run away, meaning it does matter. it's a sign that on the other side of all the chaos, he will likely arrive at the site where this man last saw you all to your bloodied corpse. "Where did your Captain go? He was supposed to be leading this team."

"H-He…" clearly hesitant to explain, Pantalone assumes he's about to say you had died in the heat of battle. "He betrayed the Fatui so the enemy would spare him, and agreed to give up important information in exchange for his life."

Something about that strikes him cold. However, he turns searing hot as the worry sets in like dread, and he realises everything will end here. the Knave will be sent to kill the traitor, and in the end, he will never hear your sweet voice again like music to his ears. It was for nothing to have held out hope you were alive because he was right. In the worst way possible, Pantalone was right. As he stands here pacing in worry, you probably don't care. Rather, you are spilling every secret Pantalone has slipped you about the Fatui he wasn't supposed to. Somewhere out there, you're betraying every ounce of trust he ever put in you as you take advantage of whatever you have to save your skin.

if only he could go back and be there, you probably never would've had to do such a thing, but what if this is the Tsaritsa's gift? To know that you would be willing to betray all that the Fatui stand for? that is a cruel way of thinking. He can't force Arlecchino to unhear that, meaning he can't keep it a secret. Pantalone certainly can't stop this information from getting out as he might've liked to. You will be hunted by the Knave to the edges of Teyvat for your crimes.

"Pantalone." he looks up to Arlecchino's stone-cold glare like she knows the deliberations going on in his head as the more significant part of him questions your innocence. "He's a traitor. Don't spare your thoughts on him, just pretend that he died and I'll bring his corpse back and call him a hero."

"No--" At that moment, Pantalone's voice sounds so strained. he thinks he's on the verge of tears even if it doesn't feel like he is. Pantalone speaks without thinking, and he can't tell if it's because he wants you to come home or to ask you why. maybe he just doesn't want you to die, even knowing you probably betrayed them. "No, I'll go. I'll go, and I'll--" he hesitates momentarily, "kill him."

he can't even believe he just spoke those words out loud. Something about the entire situation is surreal, though he feels like someone has wrenched his heart from his chest and run off with it. That 'someone' would probably be you, off to present it to a new master on a silver platter. you took a piece of him and stole it, and now only an aching lingers. something in that aching longed for you to pay for your actions, but it also demanded an explanation. that part of him wants to hold you down and wring the life out of you with his bare hands so you can feel the pain he wants you to. it wouldn't be enough to let the Knave kill you, no matter if it was slow, drawn-out torture. he wants to see your face as you die, to watch the life drain from your eyes, and see if you hold any remorse as you see the point you've driven him to.

worry fades away into anger, frustration too, but mostly anger.

Pantalone is angry about many things, angry at you. He's angry that you made him fear for your safety. He isn't sure he can ever forgive that you had so carelessly become a traitor. He can't forgive that you would even betray him.

"Will you really kill your own loverboy?" He's angered that Arlecchino would say such a thing. The lilt in her voice makes it painfully obvious she isn't extending her greatest sympathies. "I thought menial work was below you."

he opens his mouth to retort but decides not to dignify that with a response.

it's cold out. it would be far too hard for you to survive without help. Pantalone is accompanied only by the skirmisher who returned from your squad with the news of your betrayal, though unbeknownst to him, he is taking his last steps as he has orders to kill the man once he has fulfilled all of his use. he also betrayed the mantra of loyalty, but perhaps he hasn't realised such a thing yet.

he and Pantalone arrive at the remnants of your last squad, the last place where you were seen alive and where enough blood was spilled to dye the snow red. he sees almost the entirety of your team strewn about and abandoned, only one of the attackers amongst them having succumbed to his injuries as he lay face down and lifeless.

this is far enough. he can die amongst his comrades.

"Lord Harbinger, they went in this direction." Though he has already begun to draw a blade, he turns his attention to see what the skirmisher is crouched before, noticing vague impressions left behind. It's been a little over half a day since he returned alone, meaning these would be your last traces. however, no matter how far you've gotten, he should tend to the bodies first. by the time he attempts to follow those tracks, they'll be covered in a new layer of snow. for now, he must deal with this skirmisher who decided that his fleeing was not a disgrace to the Tsaritsa's name.

Pantalone draws the knife he had tucked away out of sight. In the second it takes to turn around, a deep slash is carved into the fatuu's throats. He topples over himself to the ground, where he lands atop his slain comrades, struck by the shock more than anything.

"Tsk tsk, and to think this was a mere decoration piece."

Already another day and a half out, he stumbles upon the camp of rebels, as dead as your squad. They are all just as carelessly tossed aside as the last corpses he found, and much like the last group, only one is missing. it seemed to be the same one missing each time as suspiciously, you're nowhere to be found amongst the people you were betraying him for. gone with the wind just as you were the first time you hadn't come home. moreover, this certainly is not their primary base of operations as it lacks any semblance of permanence. It was put together in a hurry to survive the night without succumbing to exhaustion, not for a long-term stay. there's a freshly lit fire still burning by their sides, surrounded by the people who had likely been sitting by it for warmth before their lives were snuffed out by the sole survivor he knew of.

the cherry on top is that the bodies are still barely warm — you're nearby. You can't get far in that amount of time, and the snow gives you away quickly, even with the night falling. you're so close it's as if he can see you already, as the memory of your presence is left behind In the form of footsteps. most noticeably, however…droplets of blood trail beside those footsteps.

in the place of your footsteps, Pantalone begins to walk along the trail you make for him, following behind you like a dog that chases the scent of blood to find its master amidst danger. stepping directly into the divots left behind is the only way to feasibly track you in the dark, with no source of light yet coming into view. the wind is picking up, however, and as he focuses closely on the direction he walks, he begins to hear the faint sound of life at last. the singular life who managed to escape certain death not once but twice and who will not be so lucky the third time.

the glow of a lantern appears in the distance.

somewhere out there, the light ahead of Pantalone glows brighter as the distance between you grows shorter, and the silhouette of a man enters his view.

it's you, carrying a lantern you had likely stolen, bloodied bandages crudely wrapped around your hand, dripping bright red into the snow. more than anything, you seem ready to collapse from exhaustion from how slowly you move.

"Is someone there?" You must hear Pantalone as you turn back, hands shaking audible in the clattering of the lantern, a cut across your cheek.

You make eye contact with the gun he points at you. You are trapped in the middle of nowhere with no backup, little food, and barely any water, but you know it's him. if not for the gun, you might not worry, yet something about it sends chills up your spine just from the coldness of his eyes. You're not used to such a gaze on you. It's like steel and raw feelings cloud together into one terrifying man who feels the most profound form of betrayal a person could know. Even in the line of work of the Fatui, this is something different. Not due to circumstance but because he is a Harbinger. some shivers dance across you, spiking goosebumps into your skin, and you feel like you could collapse, but you know that if you do, all will have been for nothing.

"Pantalone--"

"I want to hear a thorough explanation for the things you've done."

You want to provide one, but…but how do you tell him you still betrayed the Tsaritsa's trust in you to die for her cause when the time came? Every lie that spilled from your lips, masked as information you provided, was shared out of self-preservation, not loyalty. That alone was enough to get you hunted and killed, especially in your position.

Now you stand small and weakened by circumstance before a man burning with rage, only a lantern slowly draining away as the minutes pass. You can't blame him, only able to imagine how he could've possibly heard that you hadn't returned and what it must've looked like to see you gone so many times from places you should've died. Does he think you killed your squad to desert the Fatui? Or was there someone who told him you had betrayed him? Maybe he just decided that for himself upon seeing the very place where you had thrown away your dignity for him thinking you could do it all alone.

"I wanted to see you…" you try to say, throat rough and voice quieter than you'd like. "I didn't want to die so I lied. I was just coming back, everyone else is dead! Everyone was killed, but there was a way…a way that I could live and come home." Without meaning to, you begin to tear up, met with only unwavering disbelief, not of shock but of an unwillingness to believe you aren't a filthy liar. "I didn't want you to hear the news that I had died." You choke the last part out on the verge of breaking down.

"Was it me you lied to or them? How am I supposed to trust you're being honest now when everyone you've come into contact with has died?" You didn't think you'd ever hear such venom in his voice, but more than that, he was hurt more than you could be by his words alone. You just can't think of a way to prove to him you're being honest, not when you're so tired and worn down and working against what is likely an order to kill you for your actions.

How are you supposed to tell a man overcome with grief and emotion that he's wrong? There's no way he'll see reason.

"You can observe the wounds," you say slowly, unsure if he would buy such a story, "they weren't made by a weapon like mine, and you know what I'm like — hopeless with other weapons."

will he wait that long? you doubt that, but you can make him wait even a moment for you to explain yourself.

"They were a hopeless rebel group who thought of me like a dog. why would I be loyal to them?"

"You were supposed to be loyal to me!" like a rubber band pulled to its limit, it's as if something snaps, the boiling anger bubbling over. "I thought we were trying to stop lying all the time; I thought we agreed not to run off and try to do things on our own. Maybe only I had agreed to those things because you seem to be fine doing both of them."

His words anger you, but you know that denying them will only anger him instead. You have spent the past few days lying to him whether you meant to or not, the past few days have been hell, and yet he has experienced greater suffering in the form of overwhelming grief. for the past few days, Pantalone has believed you were dead, then that you had betrayed him in your most excellent schemes. it was what people told him. it was what the evidence pointed to.

But your body, appearing so small and trembling from how cold you are, wrapped in the now tattered clothes you had departed in, tells a different story. Blood spilled over your collar, the furs of your overcoat matted, your hair tangled, and your skin bruised. The sight brings pity to Pantalone for you, such a pathetic little thing still begging for only his forgiveness, not even your own life.

Pity reasons with the side of him that, even now, holds his love for you close. You are closer to his heart than anything else has ever been. He finally asks what should've been an obvious question that whole time: when did he start believing Arlecchino over you?

With the possibility considered, more questions flood his mind: why were you walking closer to where the Fatui gather most if you were betraying them? What use would you find in killing them if they were your accomplices? there would be far more benefit in allowing them to cart you out to the edge of Snezhnaya then betraying them. even you would know that and which direction you were walking before he caught you — back to where you came from. when your shaking form is back in focus, he realises his gun shakes with the faint clang of metals like the bullet rattles in the chamber.

You are returning to Snezhnaya, he realises, you are coming home.

Slowly, he forces his hand to lower alongside his gun. The tension in his body runs high; he's surprised to hear the gun slip and fall to the ground, landing somewhere in the snow with a dull sound that he ignores. there are more important things. Pantalone moves, forcing his feet to comply with what he wants — you are cold and need a warm coat wrapped around you tightly.

Pantalone freezes in place rather quickly, however. He realises you are shaking violently, and not just from the cold. the look on your face spells sheer terror as if you're a little child face with the big scary monster in the dark. you don't know. Unable to hear his thoughts, you have no idea his intentions. Inching back to put some more distance between the two of you for your safety, your sense of self-preservation acting for you. would you believe a word he says if he tries to reassure you? or would you suspect his habit of using flattery to get the things he wants? either is a reasonable assumption on your part.

There is a silence that spells nothing but decisions for both of you, thoughts running wild with possibilities. It drags on for so long that it feels like an eternity before you move. Both of you impossibly still, too afraid to do anything lest you provoke the other with even the slightest wrong move.

the first to act so happens to be you, lips quivering and eyes watering as they sting with tears you've been holding back far too long. The lantern is lost to the snow. You crash into Pantalone's chest, almost toppling the both of you. You finally break, your emotions overflowing before you get a chance to catch up with them. you're terribly upset and worn down, exhausted, anxious and, most of all, more afraid than ever. Still, you are so happy to finally have a single taste of home back in your arms, even if he's gone stiff as a board, and you're scared he'll toss you aside. just a moment, and you'll be satisfied to have your love end then and there in a single gunshot because of your stupid decisions.

However, as soon as the action registers, your embrace is returned awkwardly at first. you soon both relax enough to hug so tightly you might suffocate before you make it home. you would be more than glad to spend your last moments that way, but thankfully that isn't the case. you will go home safe again tonight.

the guest room is a lonely place, even in your own home, but once your wounds were carefully bandaged and placed in front of the fire to warm up, you had more time to think than you should've. each time Pantalone approaches, even just to offer you warm tea and an extra blanket, you would flinch so violently it was as if he still held a gun to your head.

you tried so hard to spend the first night back in your shared room, but even with all the warmth and assurance you could ask for, you found yourself on edge. you've spent every night of the past three weeks sleeping in the guest room by yourself. can your relationship ever be repaired? from something like that, you're not sure. you desperately want to believe there is something that can be salvaged, even when you have seldom spoken to each other since your return. The two of you exchange little more than curt greetings before Pantalone leaves to carry on his work. Still unfit for active duty, you remain alone in the silence of your shared home. you thought the silence might make it better and give you time to think, but you know at heart that you would much rather be distracted.

You doubt in this state that you could convince even the ever battle-hungry Tartaglia to agree to spar with you and that plants you firmly in bed, unwilling to get up. If you got on your knees and begged, you might be given some paperwork to complete. You choose to ignore the helping of papers on the desk in the corner of your room, blank if not for your name. you were supposed to write a report of everything that happened during your stint as a rebel. spending several days AWOL isn't something the Fatui looks past, even when it's a Harbinger's lover doing it, though it certainly helps to have that kind of reputation.

In your mind, you've had thousands of interactions with Pantalone where you tell him anything and everything. In her fantasy, you say everything you want him to hear and spill all your thoughts and worries. However, when you come face to face with him, you freeze up and choke on your words until he's gone. Pantalone leaves the house earlier than he used to and doesn't return until later. Maybe he's shutting you out to think, or perhaps he's shutting himself away from you to let your physical wounds heal before thinking of your psychological ones. Clearly, only one of you wants to talk, and Pantalone's sudden turn to pulling away only worsens that.

You want to tell him that, but even that conversation gets stuck to the confines of your mind when you can barely say a quiet good morning to him.

All at once, it seems you've lost everything. First, your team and now your husband; next will probably be your job, and your life will follow suit if that happens. The Tsaritsa's benevolence must include letting those under even harsh scrutiny for their actions get medical care before they die. Otherwise, you're sure you would've heard something horrible about the verdict on that investigation Arlecchino threatened you with. Supposedly you would receive a letter including the conclusion, though you were warned it may take months to conclude. If a letter arrived, you certainly don't know about it.

You're not entirely sure what possesses you to check Pantalone's office. There's a sinking feeling in your stomach like he may have hidden it or innocently collected it and has yet to read the mail from this morning. Both options have you looking through the mail in search of the letter. Is it even there? Probably not. You simply convinced yourself that is it, and now you must find evidence to prove or disprove that idea.

You sort through the stack of envelopes left aside on his desk. You started with the unopened ones, but, finding nothing, you forced yourself to move on to the letters he had most definitely already read. You can tell by the way the ends have been cleanly sliced with a letter opener.

In no particular order, you restack them as you go, thinking there are too many envelopes for him to memorise their order.

Before you know it, you're staring down at the seal used in official — mostly only important — letters from high-ranking officers of the Fatui. You want to open that letter to be a request from the Jester. You'd also settle for a nag for funding from the Doctor or a written apology from Tartaglia for blowing an exorbitant amount of the Fatui's funding during his stay in Liyue.

However, you know that seal too well; it is used only by the Knave. Harbingers have customised variations of the official seal; some you've memorised more than others, as the differences can be slight.

Forget your words. Your breath catches in your throat as you reach into the opening to pull the neatly folded paper out. Please don't be a verdict. Your mind races with dozens of possibilities. As you read through the words as quickly as possible, the worst of your thoughts seems to be coming true. First, details of the investigation, including the validity of your initial testimony being validated by the evidence. Your men were killed by the blades carried by the enemy. Arlecchino then goes on to discuss the logic of your actions and the order the events took place. She mentions the physical state you were found in and examples of your injuries, noting many couldn't have been self-inflicted. She does not entirely dismiss the idea you may have had help, but you can probably work with that mindset.

Finally, however, she notes that, in all likelihood, your version of events is correct.

Arlecchino won't release the final verdict until she's sure, not one to put half-baked conclusions on official paper, but the fact Pantalone didn't even mention this much to you fills you with a rage you didn't expect. How could he hide the most crucial thing since you returned from you? He knows how much you've been fretting over this, even in the absence of proper conversation between you — the few words you managed around him were to ask about it.

You're unsure if your hands shake from weakness or a new influx of emotion you're not ready to handle. It's tiring being shut out; you're sick of being shut out. Even if you did move to the guest room, you still live in the same damn house. You still share everything but the bed you slept in, so why? Why is Pantalone keeping so much from you? Why did he suddenly stop speaking to you? he was the one going on about you lying, so what about—

"What are you doing in here?"

a voice from the doorway catches you so off guard that you jump at the sound, looking up to find Pantalone with a nasty look on his face. Judging by the state of your emotions, you imagine the look you're giving him to be equally rotten, pissed off, maybe. You didn't hear him come in; he must've done so quietly.

"The hell's wrong with you?!" Without meaning to, you raise your voice, half due to frustration and half the fault of that pent-up desire to communicate, spilling over in the heat of your breaking point. This is it. This is all you can take. This is where your patience and ability to keep your emotions in stops. "Three weeks! Three whole weeks I have waited for any sign that maybe, just maybe, I won't have my head sliced off my shoulder, and for—" you glance down at the letter to find the date, knowing Arlecchino marks the date of everything she sends as a precaution, "oh, about four days now— guess who has had an idea of how that investigation into his own husband is going?"

You barely even noticed you had blown a gasket until you were done, stood from the chair Pantalone should be sitting at, hands resting on the table. Your palms hurt; you must've slammed them down at some point, as the sting is dull but still there. More than anything, your breath is laboured, and you might start to cry again if you don't get a hold of yourself. You're so mad it makes you feel dizzy, like you might lose your footing if you're not careful.

Ah. That's not your anger. The realisation hits you hard as you lose your balance and topple back into Pantalone's chair. You got so tense and behaved carelessly, worsening your health. You're not used to being so fragile.

"Don't get yourself too wound up—" Pantalone made his way to your side at some point— "you'll make it worse."

You don't care if you make it worse. You really don't, but you know that throwing a tantrum is childish and solves nothing but making Pantalone worry for you more. It only pushes him further away from you and helps no one.

But Archons, you're just so irritated, your emotions at an all-time high. You've spent three weeks forcing them into a tiny box they don't fit in. You've spoken to nobody about it, said nothing of the kind of thoughts you had stranded out there alone, the only survivor of your squad. An overwhelming abundance of guilt tells you that you should've died along with them; you were a coward for how you acted following their deaths. You're just a filthy coward, aren't you? Cowards are of no use to anyone, let alone the Tsaritsa. Maybe it would be best if it was declared you weren't fit for duty. Arlecchino should just decide you've tarnished Her Lady's honour.

At last, you understand. You understand why Pantalone has avoided you for three straight weeks — you are not the man he married. You are some imposter of that man who would brave even the strongest foes without an inkling of a thought he might lose. You are a cowardly and pathetic excuse for that man. You bury your face in your hands, rubbing harshly at your face in some attempt to outlet that frustration. It seems so stupid you didn't realise it before. It's terrible to divorce an injured man, so he must be waiting for you to recover enough for him to leave you—

"I'm sorry."

Out of all the anticipated responses, that wasn't high on your list. You bite your lip, waiting to hear what comes next, chewing at it nervously.

"I thought if I kept that from you…" he trails off suddenly like there is more. Maybe he lost the words to say it, or maybe he didn't have very nice things to say in the first place. "I thought it would be easier to focus on your recovery if you weren't aware of how far Arlecchino was delving into your private life. I didn't—"

When you look up, you see a man with a look in his eyes like a kicked puppy, the visible distress you're in like a kick to his gut. He realises everything he's done to contribute to you ending up this way. You need him, truly, more than anything right now.

"You want to divorce me now, don't you?"

What possessed you to say that is far beyond both of you, but it's not any kind of accusation. It's just a question.

"No?" Still, he seems to think that's absurd; the look on his face is nothing short of pure confusion, like you just said the most ridiculous thing he's heard, and you had. "Why would I— No, I don't want a divorce."

"Then why are you avoiding me so much?" You shrink in your place, making yourself small as you were that night, and it raises the same pity in him that he felt then. "Why won't you talk to me? Why aren't you ever home?"

He is terrified. He is terrified to be close to you, even when he knows you need him.

A voice in his head asks what if you're still tricking him? What if this is only an act to gain his sympathy? He knows it's not, but the feeling, the paranoia, rings so clearly in his head he struggles to see you on the verge of tears. He doesn't want to trust you yet, even though he knows any comrades you had on either side are long dead. Even Arlecchino corroborated your story to some degree; she had yet to confirm the rest. So far, however, you were being liberated of any fault piece by piece. So why? Why does he feel so anxious about allowing you back into his home?

You live there; your entire life is in that house. He has built his everything up here, you by his side. It was hard to imagine that a singular mission gone south could cause this amount of damage. Yet, you are curled up in his chair while he stands beside it, taking your bandaged hand to squeeze it tightly and reassure you. He wants so desperately to believe that you told the truth. The nagging voice in the back of his mind constantly pushes the idea that you lied, trying to convince him your words didn't make sense. Everything makes sense. Arlecchino would not lie about that.

On the other hand, you've got such horrible anxiety, unlike the silly little thoughts you had before. It's not about whether Pantalone likes the flowers you get him or prefers silver jewellery or gold. It is about whether or not he secretly plans to divorce you. Your failure and the worry you caused him weigh heavy on your mind, all boiling down into one conclusion. You have caused him nothing but grief for what? A month now? Probably more than that. Who's to say you weren't a bother to him before the mission? What if you've always been a bother, and this is just his excuse to justify it?

That would explain why he pulled away so suddenly. Maybe it is about the flowers and the jewellery, perhaps he preferred flowers your money couldn't buy. You know he's not that materialistic, but it's the only way you can make sense of it. Maybe, for a Harbinger, you will never be enough. Perhaps he expected you would have taken Tartaglia's place as Eleventh before he got the chance. You were content and happy as a measly Captain under Pantalone's sector and never seemed to strive for more. You thought that would take your time away from him, but you also didn't want more than you needed. Were you meant to strive for more than that? Is that it?

Your deliberations are only working you up more, the opposite of what he warned you not to do. The tears start rolling down your cheeks again, warm and unable to be stopped by simply wiping them away as more only take their place. Maybe Pantalone doesn't want a crybaby for a husband. Then what? You would still be failing him even now.

You hiccup your sobs out for a moment, trying to force yourself to breathe so that you'll calm down. "I want you to tell me why you've been avoiding me and why you keep leaving so early and coming home so late." You quickly wipe your tears once again, the roughness of the bandages binding your hand quite unpleasant against your eyes. "Can we just talk? A-And be honest with each other like we promised we would."

Your pleas do not fall on deaf ears. Pantalone wants to listen to everything you have to say and tell you everything as long as you're willing to be as honest as you say you will be. He has faith you will, even with the voice that tells him you won't. If Pantalone never hears you out, then it doesn't matter how much truth you speak, as nothing will save your marriage from him refusing to believe it. If he wants to mend this as you seem to, he has to do his part. It should've been obvious it would be difficult after the heights of emotions you both experienced in a few days.

The two of you must work through this eventually, preferably sooner rather than later.

"We'll talk for as long as necessary, my darling, and be as honest as possible with each other." Pantalone takes your other hand and brings it to his hands, warm and soft against your skin — just that much puts you at ease. One of his hands brushes your hair from your face and wipes your cheeks, a gentle, affectionate motion that is not lost on you.

A man that did not want to be married to you would not be so tender toward you, would he? He would be cruel and taunting in your weakest moments. Pantalone is not sympathetic towards those he does not care about, and his idea of feigning it is vaguely veiled mocking. This is different — it's genuine. You nod in agreement.

"I don't want it to end," your words mumbles as you try to keep yourself together, "I don't want to break up over this."

"We won't," his reassurance comes hastily but is not insincere in the slightest, "we'll work through this. I promise we'll talk about it."

With confidence, you can't say everything you both have to say will be said, but you know that you intend to try to get as much as possible out. If that's all you can manage for a day, then that amount of progress is better than none. It's better than pushing and pulling forever; that is enough for you to know it will be alright.

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

#♡ — ruu.#✎ — good old-fashioned lover boy.#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — angst.#pantalone #genshin pantalone #pantalone x reader #pantalone x male reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader

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loislane41319 · 7 months

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Fear.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Wordcount: 3094

Summary: The first time Dean sees you scared.

Warnings: Typical Supernatural stuff. Vampires, beheading vampires, death, deep feelings of guilt, loss of loved ones.

Note: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted anything. All three of my best friends recently moved away and I've been going to therapy for, among other things, ADHD.

Last week I had my last therapie session and, while I wrote this a few weeks ago, today I finally finished editing it!

Thank you so much for waiting for me and I really hope you'll enjoy this.

For those who'd like something less violent I am working on a dad!Spencer Reid story. I don't know when I'll post that though.

Story:

Fear is a funny thing. It can just appear out of nowhere or it can sneak up on you, like some virus that you’re not aware of until after it’s caused an infection. Fear is a feeling, but unlike happiness or anger it always comes with a bodily reaction. Depending on the situation and the person, the body can react to fear in different ways. For instance, when you come eye to eye with a tiger, you might feel your chest start to tighten. This means your muscles are getting ready to take action, possibly in the form of fighting or in the form of running away. Others might start to sweat excessively, so that their bodies will stay cool while running and then there’s the kind of person who will drop to the ground and play dead. Now, when encountering a tiger the latter method is useless, because tigers will sneak up on you and attack from behind. However when you encounter a female bear protecting her cubs, pretending to be dead is exactly the way to go.

Now, these reactions stem from a long time ago when humans regularly came in contact with wild animals, because we lived amongst them and they were a source of food. Nowadays however, we might react to having a job interview or giving a presentation in the same way our ancestors would while encountering a sabre-toothed tiger. That is, unless your job is to hunt ghosts, demons or other supernatural beings.

Of course, these hunters are humans so they know fear. Probably even better than normal folk. The thing about hunters is that, while they are afraid, they don’t show it. They can’t, otherwise whatever creature they’re hunting will gain the upper hand. So, while learning what monsters are out there and how to beat them, a hunter will learn how to handle their fear. They’ll learn to keep their breathing under control, so they won’t start hyperventilating and panic, but they’ll be able to keep thinking clearly. They learn to think on their feet, so that, even when a creature does gain the upper hand, they can turn the tables just as fast. And most of all, they learn that being scared is okay, because their own fear won’t kill them, but whatever creature they’re facing might.

You are one of those hunters. You’ve been hunting for almost two decades and you’re good at it. You were also a mystery. You had some impressive kills to your name and so other hunters starting talking about you, but no one actually knew you. Rumours were spread and you were made out to be some kind of superhuman. Eventually, the word most used to describe you, was fearless.

The rumours eventually also reached the Winchesters. Dean was not only impressed, but intrigued by the stories he heard and his desire to meet you kept growing the more he heard about you. Sam however, had his doubts about the rumours floating around and would rather focus on facts.

Dean was granted his wish though. Four months ago you met the brothers while working the same case. You got along well and after working together and solving the case you worked together more and more.

While drinking a beer on the hood of his car, you even opened up to Dean about losing your mother as a child and since he went through something similar, you two became very close. Bit by bit you pulled away the veil that you had draped over your past. You shared stories about your family , your pain, but not your fear. Never your fear. To you, fear was something you couldn’t allow yourself to feel. Instead of learning to deal with it, you had taught yourself to bury it, deep down inside of you where no one, not even you, could get to it. And it worked. You killed vampires, ghosts, werewolves and demons all on your own. It didn’t even matter how many there were, you would always get the job done. Until one fateful night.

You and the Winchesters were working a case that involved multiple bodies, found with bite marks and without blood. The culprit was a vampire. That you knew almost instantly. What you didn’t know however, was how many there were or where they were held up. After the third victim was found, you realised all the bodies were left around an old abandoned factory and you decided to investigate.

Ever since you entered the town though, the hairs on the back of your neck had stood up straight. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like something was off, but since you had no idea what, you shrugged it off and focused on the job you had to do.

The second you found yourself at the factory though, your heart started banging in your chest, harder than it ever had. But, as always, you shoved the feeling down and kept going. There were three buildings in the area and you decided to clear them together, one by one. The first building was empty. When you thought you had cleared the second building, suddenly you were pushed to the ground. You managed to catch yourself, but as your hands hit the ground, an image flashed through your brain. You saw your hands on the exact same floor except everything was covered in blood. What was going on? Within a second you were back to reality, without any idea what had just happened. Your skin was now clammy, your breathing heavy and you were sweating profusely. “Y/N, you okay?” You heard Dean ask. You got up and after turning around you noticed a beheaded body and blood dripping off of Sam’s machete. It was a vampire that had pushed you down. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get to the last building.” You answered and all three of you kept going.

You walked over to the third building and stood next to Dean as Sam opened the door. Before entering, you swallowed hard, trying to calm yourself down. For a split second, you wondered if you should let Sam and Dean handle this building without you, but you immediately threw that thought out of the window. How could you even think about leaving your friends just when things got difficult?

The second you entered the factory hall, you felt like you had walked into a wall. You staggered backwards, slamming your back into the wall behind you as your brain was flooded with images of this very hall covered in blood and remains. Suddenly you heard your brother. He was screaming, vampires were growling and suddenly you were on the ground and the blood was gone. The next second you could see Sam and Dean fighting some vamps, but you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. You saw a vampire coming straight at you, but you weren’t sure if it was really there, so you had no idea what to do. You pressed yourself against the wall, pulling your knees against your chest. In an attempt to make everything stop, you covered your ears and closed your eyes, hiding your face between your knees.

As the last vampire’s head hit the floor, Dean started looking for you and Sam. He found his brother first, standing over another dead vampire a few feet away. “You okay?” Sam asked. “Yeah” Dean answered and he was about to ask where you were when he heard you whimpering. “No, no, no. Go away, leave me alone.” You mumbled. For a second Dean wasn’t sure if you were actually you. You were hyperventilating, tears were streaming down your face and you looked so small Dean could barely recognise the strong, powerful woman he had gotten to know in the last few months. Both brothers ran toward you and knelt down next to you. “Hey, Y/N? It’s Dean. It’s safe now. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Can you open your eyes for me?” Dean softly asked. Somehow, through all the screaming and the blood and the violence in your head Dean’s voice was crystal clear. Like a light in the darkest night you tried your best to focus on his voice and you let him guide you back to reality. “Dean?” You managed to get out through sort breaths. “Yeah, Y/N, it’s me. It’s okay. Try to breathe.” He told you. You slowly looked up at him and while everything outside of you was calm and quiet, your body was still a complete chaos on the inside. “I-I can’t.” You told Dean as your right hand found your heart. “Yes you can. Here.” Dean said. He took your hand from your heart and placed it over his own. “Try to match my breathing. You can do this, I know you can.” He told you and you tried your best, but your erratic breathing didn’t change. Dean looked at his brother, wordlessly asking him for help. Sam held his hands up, wordlessly telling his brother he didn’t know how. Dean looked back to you. His heart broke seeing you like this and it hurt so much more because he couldn’t help you. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything that might help you.

Suddenly, an idea popped into this head. It may have been the most ridiculous, dumb idea he ever had, but he had to help you and there was nothing else he could think of. Still holding your hand over his heart, Dean laid his other hand in your neck and pressed his lips against yours.

In the last for months Dean had loved getting to know you. He deeply enjoyed hanging out with you and felt honoured every time you told him something about yourself you hadn’t told anyone else. He had wanted to ask you out for two months now, but had never found the courage to do that. About a week ago you were working on another case. You had found changelings and after killing the mother, one of the human kids didn’t want to leave their cage. It was a little, four-year-old girl and Dean couldn’t help but stare at you as you talked to her. “I know you’re scared and your mommy isn’t here right now, but I can take you to her.” You told her. “But there are scary people out there.” The little girl whispered. “I know, but I will be with you the whole way, so I can protect you, okay?” You asked her. “Even from him?” She whispered back, pointing at Dean. A small smile appeared on your face. “I know he seems scary, but that’s my friend Dean. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” You told her and as you took the girl into your arms, Dean realised he didn’t just like you. He was falling in love with you.

As he let you go, you could finally take a deep breath in. You took a few moments to steady your breathing and then you noticed the two faces staring questioningly at you. “Y/N, what happened?” Sam asked you. “Not here. I gotta get out of here first.” You told the brothers, shaking your head. They nodded and the three of you got up and left.

About an hour later, you were back at the motel. You and Dean had both taken showers and Sammy had gotten the dinner you were now enjoying. You made smalltalk for a few minutes, until Sam decided to address the elephant in the room. “Y/N, can you please tell us what happened? I mean, in the months that we’ve known you we’ve seen you kill all kinds of creatures, including vampires, without braking a sweat and tonight you had a full blown panic attack. Do you even know what caused it?” He asked. You softly sighed and nodded, knowing you could get around it any longer. “I grew up in a family of hunters. As you know, my mom died when I was little and so my dad and my brother started hunting together, leaving me at whatever seedy motel room we were staying in. One day, when I was fifteen, I decided I was old enough to join them. They didn’t agree, so I figured I’d prove it to them. They were after a vampire and I had overheard them talking about where they thought it would be that night. A few hours later, I snuck out and went there. The vampire was held up somewhere in an old factory. Three buildings and lots of ground to cover.”

“The place we were tonight.” Sam filled in. You nodded. “Yeah. I noticed the lights were on in the third building, so I went in. I found my dad and brother inside and it turned out there wasn’t just one vampire. There were five of them. The moment one of them noticed me, I screamed. It ran straight at me, but my brother managed to kill it in time.

My dad however, had gotten distracted by my scream, giving another vamp enough time to stab him. My brother yelled at me to run, but there were still three vamps left. I did what he told me and waited for him outside, but he never came out. He was barely eighteen. He saved my life twice in one night and had to make up for it with his own.” You felt a tear slide down your face and fell quiet. “And all of that happened in the building we were in tonight?” Sam asked. You nodded. “I always felt like their deaths were my fault, because if I hadn’t screamed, they’d still be here. So I decided I couldn’t be scared anymore.” You admitted. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Sam told you. Dean took your hand, causing you look at him. “I’m so sorry about that, Y/N, but their deaths aren’t your fault, they’re the vamps fault and it’s okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared sometimes, you just can’t let that stop you.” He told you sincerely. “I mean, you’re sitting next to a guy who shits his pants every time the Plucky Pennywhistle’s commercial plays.” Dean added grinning. “Haha. Here’s an idea. Take Dean on a flight. He’ll scream like a little girl the whole way.” Sam bit back, got up and disappeared into the bathroom.

The silence that followed was heavy. Dean cleared his throat and started gathering the fast-food wrappers that were all over the table. As he got up to throw them away, you decided you had to get something off of your chest. “Dean, how did you know kissing me would help me breathe?” You asked as you turned to him. He just shrugged. “Read it somewhere, I think.” He mumbled. “So, it was just that? Just a way to get me to take deeper breaths?” You asked, getting up and walking towards him. “Yeah, I was just trying to-“ You turned him towards you and softly pressed your lips against his, effectively cutting him off. He kissed you back, dropping the towel he was holding in the sink and wrapping his arm around your waist. One of your hands found its way into his hair, while the other intertwined both of your fingers. Then you pulled back. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to, I’d-“ You tried to walk away, but had somehow forgotten you were still holding Deans hand. “Not so fast. I have something to admit. I didn’t just kiss you to stop you from panicking. I didn’t know what to do and I wanted to kiss you before it was too late.” Dean said while walking closer to you. “Really?” You asked him. “Yeah. I’ve wanted to ask you out for months, but I was so scared of losing you that I kept chickening out. So, this is me, not letting my fear stop me. Y/N, will you go out with me? Because I think I’m falling for you.” You were so close, your foreheads and noses touched and you could feel Dean’s breath against your lips as he talked. You pressed another kiss to his lips and a smile appeared on his face. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you. And Dean? I fell for you four months ago.” You told him. Dean kissed you again and then you finally let go of his hand. “We should get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” You told him, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face.

The moment the door closed behind you, you felt cold. Part of you wanted to get back inside and stay with Dean until the morning and another part you was yelling at you because it’s just one night. You could be without him for that long, couldn’t you? So, you went to your own room and got ready for bed. Once in bed, though, you couldn’t sleep. You kept tossing and turning and for whatever reason you were freezing. After a few minutes, you decided enough was enough. You got out of bed and made your way back to Sam and Deans room. The light was still on and Sam was still in the shower. Dean was in bed flipping though channels. His hand disappeared under his pillow when the door opened, until he noticed it was you. “Hey, what’s up?” He asked and turned off the tv. “Hey, can I sleep here tonight?” You asked softly. Then you saw the most adorable thing you had seen in a while. Deans eyes started shining and his lips turned into the sweetest smile. “Come here.” He said. He held up a corner of the blanket and moved back as you crawled into bed next to him. The first moments were a little awkward as Dean was laying with his back toward the edge of the bed and you laid with your back towards him. He loosely laid an arm around your waist and waited to see how you’d react. You took his hand, intertwined your fingers and pulled it against your heart. Then you softly kissed Dean’s knuckles and the awkwardness melted away. Dean wrapped his other arm around you too and pulled you against his chest. “Goodnight, handsome.” You whispered. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Dean whispered back and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. Not two minutes later you were both fast asleep when Sam came out of the bathroom. He immediately noticed you in his brothers bed and couldn’t help but smile. Finally.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #vampire #fearless #guilt #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #friends to lovers #rumors

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iaminfourthwing · 1 month

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The Generals Daughter

a/n: finally the first chapter is here and the next one is almost ready for upload. I apologize in advantage, because I am still a bloody beginner in terms of writing. still, enjoy!

Chapter I

Conscription day will forever be one of the deadliest every year, right before Threshing. Ever since the first time I witnessed this from afar I hate it with all my heart. All year I have the same “privilege”, how my father would call it, to watch the candidates, that passed the entrance exam six month prior, fall to their death. And those who survive the Parapet either graduate or going to get killed – due to other cadets or dragons. One wrong move and all you will be is dead meat.

Today is possibly my last day on earth. I have to cross the Parapet myself to get into the Riders Quadrant but according to the General, I will just do fine – I am a Melgren and I have ten years of training in my bones after all. I am still not so sure about this, but I have no say in this. Not anymore.

Somewhere in between these masses of candidates must be a certain other general daughter and I really fucking hope she survives this. Even though she doesn't look like she could kill a fly, I believe wholeheartedly in her. She is strong and if someone can do this, it's her, even if she doesn't knows it yet. I tried to talk to her mother but she wouldn't budge, nothing would change her mind. Even Mira tried it more than once and if the General isn't listening to her, then she won't listen to anyone.

The orders from my father five days ago were clear – wait till the end, when everyone else is done, then I'll cross the Parapet alone. On the other side at the entrance to the quadrant will wait a third year that'll bring me to formation into the Dragon Rotunda. Commandant Panchek is informed that I'll join the Quadrant and which wing.

And with that I am waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

I have a good spot to observe these kids, trying to survive this death trail and see some of them already fall. I don't understand how some of them want to become a rider after all. So many of them volunteer to join the quadrant while others don't have a choice, like me. Malek lingers at every possible corner and no one is safe from him. Having a dragon might be “thrilling”, how many officers describe it, but till you possibly get to this point you could be dead, or worse.

These dragons are terrifying, like that beast of a dragon my father bonded all those years ago, long before I was born.

The weather isn't in anyone’s favor today – the storm took a turn at some point. Even though the sunrise was beautiful, it left a bitter aftertaste as the dark clouds covered the sky. For some of them it was their last sunrise ever.

It's been more than two hours since the first one entered the Parapet and there aren't many candidates left. I make out a figure striking over the stones like they own this place and – did they just threw another candidate down?!

My heart starts racing, my breathing becomes uneven, and I feel like I'm having a panic attack. Shit, now?!

`Take a deep breath, Arya. You`ll do this alone, no one can throw you down and no one will interrupt you.’

I just really hope I`ll never have to meet this asshole. I may look tough and have more fighting experience than others, but those people are unpredictable. And I certainly don`t have my father’s signet to see if I could win a fight against him, so I really want to avoid this guy.

A knock on the door interrupts my train of thoughts and when I turn, one of the officers from infantry stands at the door. “It's time” is the only thing he says. Shit.

Around fifteen minutes later I find myself lingering at the edge of the Parapet. No one else is around, the officer walked away the moment, I stepped foot into the tower.

Only a few centimeters separate me and the abyss. Just a few centimeters left and then I'll be out in the open while the rain thankfully eases into a slight drizzle.

`Okay Arya – you`ve got this. Take a deep breath – and step forward.’

Well … it takes me about three minutes, with stumbling and cursing the shit out of every person that crosses my mind, to reach the other side and I am nearing the entry to the famous Riders Quadrant. Just like father told me, a third year is already waiting for me, looking annoyed. But it's not like he can disobey a direct order from above. “Finally, they are about to start” he grumbles. Hello to you too, grumpy, but I know better than to aggravate him, since he has a dragon that could incinerate me before I even have the chance to hide.

We make our way through the empty corridors of the college while I try to sort my thoughts. I really survived the Parapet and now I am allowed to call myself a cadet. Still alive and can't fucking believe I am now part of this hellhole. I already imagine the way the General will stand in his office and rant about how it was predictable that I would succeed. “She is a Melgren after all and it would have been a waste of time if she didn't survived.”

Faint voices in the distance interrupt my thoughts, which get louder with every step we take but before we can even walk out into the biggest courtyard one has ever seen, the chattering grows quiet.

“Three hundred and one of you have survived the Parapet to become-“

The third year, I have yet to know his name, and I interrupt Commandant Panchek, who stands on the dais in front of the cadets.

“I apologize, Commandant, but it's three hundred and two.”

There is a heavy silence that spreads over the rotunda. I stand behind the tall rider, most of the curious glances immediately find him, only a few of them spot me behind. Great.

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame #bodhi durran #xaden riorson #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran x reader

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enid-rhees · 4 months

Note

Hello there :D

I'm new to your profile and I absolutely love your content. It's immaculate and I sheepishly admit that it has made me want to share a request, if you don't mind, specifically one on Enid x fem reader.

My idea revolves around Enid and fem reader being a couple but reader has a fear of fire. During one excursion out of Hilltop or Alexandria, Enid gets trapped by walkers inside a building that gets lit up (whether this be intentional or accidental) and reader is closest to save her, but suddenly experiences a panic attack. Once she manages to overcome her panic attack, she rushes into the building to save Enid, but passes out, and they both get saved by Rick, Michionne and Daryl.

Thank you for taking the time to read my request. I do hope you get the time to work on it, if you're not already being bombarded by other requests.

Enjoy the rest of your day :D

burning love || enid rhee x fem!reader

warnings: fires, angst

a/n: thank you so much for your request, anon! and it means a lot you love my stories and wanted to request :’) i hope you’re doing well! hope you, and everyone else enjoys 🫶🏻 Enid icon made by @elisiassideb1tch ✨

“stay safe, please.” you whispered to Enid, your frantic eyes looking between hers. Enid leaned forward and softly pressed her lips to yours. you kissed back with as much love as you could put into one kiss. “i will be. i promise. i love you, okay?” Enid whispered back and caressed your cheeks with her hands gently. “i love you too.”

with that, you watched as Enid walked outside the gate. you shouldn’t have let her go on her own like that, but she wouldn’t be long. she didn’t have to go far, but that never stopped your worrying. you’ve been busied by your daily Hilltop chores, which was what was stopping you from going with her.

Enid was strong, she could fight on her own. you knew that. she was the strongest girl you knew, she could take on anything. you wanted to stop worrying so much, but every possibility wouldn’t stop racing through your head. with a shake of your head to shake away the thoughts, you began to make yours and Enid’s bed.

you took the blanket and spread it around the bed and then dropped your pillows by the headboard. both you and Enid had too many pillows for people who only slept on each other. the thought made you laugh to yourself, and it lessened your worries a bit.

Enid walked down the street cautiously, her gun sitting right in her hand, ready to use at any moment. she had to admit that she felt nervous without you by her side, but the house she was heading towards wasn’t far from Hilltop. the second she got what she needed, she’d be back home with you finally.

that’s the only way she knew she’d get through this; finally being back home with you. all she wanted was to be with you again. and yeah, she knew it’s only been 10 minutes without you, but she already missed you like it’s been 10 months.

when the house came into view, Enid started to speed walk towards it. she finally got to it and began to walk inside the door, until snarling sounds formed behind her. with wide eyes, Enid turned around, facing about ten walkers that were coming her way. she cursed under her breath as she fumbled to pull out her knife; if she used her gun, she’d only attract more walkers.

Enid stumbled into the house and allowed them to follow her in. she stabbed the first few in the head and pushed them to the ground. now she really wished you were with her. she stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and got back to trying to kill all of them.

during the last few walkers, she heard an almost… roaring type noise. and the room around her lit orange or yellow. Enid was now surrounded by flames. she didn’t know where it came from or how it happened, but she was terrified with no place to go. a whimper of your name came from her lips as she backed away from the growing flames.

“what is that?” Michonne gasped, looking up at the sky. you looked up at the sound of your mother’s voice and followed her eyes. black smoke filled the sky, and it wasn’t far from where you were. “i don’t-“ you began, but then you froze. “oh my god.” you whispered. “what?” Michonne asked. you dropped the shovel you were holding and started to run. Michonne shouted your name, but you ignored her and ran out of the gate and didn’t stop running.

behind some trees, you could see fire poking out, and your heart dropped and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. you knew that fire was at the house Enid went to.

your chest hurt, and everything was spinning around you. this couldn’t be happening; the love of your life was trapped inside your biggest fear.

for years, ever since you were little, fires terrified you. you didn’t really know why, but the thought of them, the sight of them, it terrified you. you didn’t know what to do.

your knees buckled and you fell to the ground with gasps leaving you lips frantically. you put your hand on your chest, right on your heart, in hopes it would soothe you. that’s what Enid would do. she would put her hand on your heart and whisper breathing instructions to you.

so that what you did in your head. you replayed her voice in your head, Enid softly saying “one.. two.. three… inhale. one.. two.. three… exhale.”

it started to work after a few seconds of repeating that in your head. slowly, you took a deep breath, wiped your eyes and stood up. you had to be strong for Enid.

you ran to the house, eyes widening at the flames. you closed your eyes and took another deep breath; you can do this.

before you could run inside, you heard footsteps outside with you. you looked up just as a masked woman appeared from behind the house. she put her gun up immediately, but you were quicker than her. your bullet went through her head before she could even shoot. something fell from her hand as she fell to the ground, and you rushed to see what it was. in one hand was a lighter, and when you turned your head, there was a empty gas can lying on the ground.

this was a plan; she was aiming to kill Enid. you had no time to get angry at her, she was already dead. you just needed to find Enid now.

you ran inside the house, immediately coughing at the smoke that filled your lungs and surrounded you. “ENID!” you yelled through the roaring flames, continuing to cough. you walked further inside the house, covering your head when a plank fell from above you, and then you heard Enid yell, “Y/N?!”

your head perked up and you moved as carefully as possible while also trying to run. it sounded like her voice came from the stairs, so you began to run up them. the smoke began to fill your head, and you were growing dizzier and dizzier. you made it upstairs, stumbling with each step you took.

“Y/N!” Enid yelled again, it came from the room across from you. you ran in and saw Enid in the corner. when she saw you, she ran to you and fell into your arms with a gasp. “are you okay?!” you asked her, struggling to speak. “i’m okay, but- but you-“

“we need to get you out of here.” you cut her off. Enid wrapped her arms around your shoulder and you two began to make your way back downstairs. but when you got to the bottom, you fell to the ground and Enid cried out. “Y/N?! oh god- you’re okay. just- just stay with me, okay? we’re gonna get out of here.”

she managed to lift you up, but your body fell limp as you officially passed out from the smoke. “no!” she cried, pulling at your hands to pull you up. before she could pick you up and finally get out of this house, Rick, Michonne and Daryl all came running in.

“she passed out.” Enid cried, handing you over to Rick. he held you tightly and ran out of the house again while Michonne and Daryl helped Enid out. she coughed endlessly when she finally felt the fresh air. “i don’t know why she would do that.” Enid coughed out. “she’s afraid of fire.”

“you were in there.” Michonne stated simply. Enid looked down at the grass, trying to catch her breath. “look, guys.” Daryl spoke, pointing over to something. Enid turned her head, and noticed the dead body. Daryl walked over to them and leaned down, and then looked to the left.

“she had a lighter. and there’s a gas can over here. this was done intentionally… but it looks like Y/N killed her. there’s a gunshot in the center of her head.”

Enid smiled a little, knowing the clean shot was done by none other than you. “it was her, you all know how good she is with her gun.” then they chuckled, “yeah, you’re right.” Rick laughed, gently setting you down on the ground.

Enid crawled over to your body, holding your face in her hands. “come on, wake up.” she whispered, tears threatening to fall from her eyes again. she laid her head on your chest, your heartbeat the only thing keeping her calm, just knowing that you were still alive.

after a few minutes of silence, you coughed. Enid swung her head up and let out a small cry of joy. “oh my god.” she whispered. “Y/N, oh god, you’re okay.” she hugged you, and you hugged her back to the best of your ability.

“you’re okay.” you repeated back in a whisper. you reached up and combed your fingers through her hair. “i’m never letting you go anywhere alone again.” you said, and it made her chuckle. “agreed.” she lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles.

you sat up slowly, and Enid wrapped her arms around you. “let’s get back home, hm?”

#divider creds : cafekitsune #enid rhee #enid twd #enid rhee x reader #enid rhee x fem!reader #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #the walking dead x fem!reader #twd x fem!reader

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wakandas-vibranium · 1 year

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Wednesday Nights || Part Four

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, time skip, angst, fluff

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry if this chapter seems a bit choppy. I am not a fan of time skips. Four chapters down, one more to go. Thank y'all for reading. Please like, comment, and share!

part one

part two

part three

part five

“Mom!”

You awakened with a jolt, in a cold sweat in your new living quarters. You'd been suffering the same nightmare for 20 years. You had to witness your mother turn and attack your father, turning him. Then, before they could attack and turn you, they were both gunned down.

That was 20 years ago and you still weren’t fully recovered. Your luck finally started to come through these last six months.

You were walking alone in the winter cold. The cold air was stinging on your skin as you traveled down the icy river.

Six people on horses surrounded you and grilled you so badly that you thought they were going to kill you. One of the men on the horses yanked his bandana down over his face and screamed your name so loudly that he startled the horses and a few of the others with him.

“Y/N!” Tommy called as he hopped down from his horse, running over to you. Even though his hair was longer and he'd grown a beard, you recognized Tommy right away.

The blood rushed to your face so quickly that you almost passed out. You thought he was dead. You assumed all three of them were all dead. You peered over Tommy's shoulder at the other riders as he drew you into a crushing hug. You didn't see Joel. Was Joel still alive? Was he even here with Tommy?

You rode back with Tommy on his horse, relieved to be off your feet. You'd been walking for weeks. You were in the dining hall eating with Tommy and his new wife, Maria. She was gorgeous and a little intimidating, but she made small talk.

You couldn’t help but notice her body language and the way her lips would thin into a straight line and shoulders would tense at any mention of Joel. Tommy let you know as soon as possible that Sarah didn’t make it. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, but managed to keep it together. Before today, you already assumed she died.

“It’s not like your brother is the best at making decisions,” Maria mumbled, fighting back an eye roll.

Tommy was sharing with you some of the things he and Joel had to do in order to survive. You’d done similar things and a few worse things. You weren’t one to judge and you weren’t going to judge Tommy and Joel. They were the only family you had left.

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You snapped, no longer able to ignore the jabs Maria kept taking at Joel.

And the fact that Tommy just sat there and let her insult his brother really pissed you off. Not so much Tommy, but Maria's uppity demeanor got under your skin. Who the hell did she think she was? Good for her if she never had to stoop so low to survive in this shitty post-apocalyptic world. Good for fuckin' her, you thought.

Tommy leaned forward and whispered something into his wife's ear. She cringed and glanced at you before apologizing. Tommy opted to change the subject and asked you what happened to you on breakout day.

“My parents turned right in front of me. Before I could even comprehend what was happenin’ to ‘em they were shot dead.”

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was awful. Your parents were taken from you too fast. It was unfair.

“Then I hauled ass across Austin to try and get to you, Joel and Sarah. None of you were answering your phones so I figured it must have been happening around y’all too.”

You had a severe panic attack once you realized that you were well and truly on your own. You were lost. You didn’t know what to do without any of them. How were you supposed to survive in a world when your favorite five people no longer existed?

“Eventually I ended up working with a small group of nine people to help find a cure for whatever this was. I worked with doctors, nurses, scientists on this. We were desperate to find a cure. Tommy, I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, but we’ve exhausted every single possibility and nothing. There is no cure for this.”

“Wow.” Tommy said, sighing deeply at your newfound news. He had held out hope that there was a cure, but he wasn’t shocked that there wasn’t one.

Enough about you. Tommy told you that Joel was alive and I just missed him by a few weeks.

“Where is Joel?”

“Ellie—the young girl he’s with is immune. Joel took her to a hospital — a firefly post so that they could use Ellie’s blood to make a cure.” Tommy explained cooly.

“What?” You uttered lowly. You had your fair share of run-ins with the fireflies. Enough for a lifetime, and each instance damn near cost you your life. You had the awful pleasure of meeting their leader, Marlene. She had an impressive right hook, but your left was a lot meaner.

The nine people you'd been traveling with for the past 20 years were all dead. The majority were killed by clickers, while the others were killed by firefly bombs. You were furious and alone. On a mission to find Marlene, the leader of the fireflies.

You were determined to kill her where she stood. You'd had a few run-ins with Marlene, and they always ended bloody.

You didn't belong to FEDRA or the Fireflies. You were part of a small group of surgeons, biologists, nurses, and medical researchers. You were the only immunologist on the team. Shortly after the outbreak, all nine of you got together to try to find a cure. You clung to them after you assumed Joel, Sarah, and Tommy were no longer alive.

After your parents were killed, you attempted to drive across town to Joel's house, but the highway was already shut down. You'd also overheard from an officer that Joel's neighborhood was a hot zone full of infected people. You were devastated. You had no family left within a matter of hours.

You last saw her and her band of fireflies in Atlanta about a year ago. She ordered her men to blow up a couple buildings where you and the rest of your group were hiding from FEDRA. You barely escaped with your life. Everyone else who was with you died. Blown to smithereens.

“There is no fuckin’ cure, Tommy.”

“But Joel said—“

“—Well whoever told Joel and Ellie that is a goddamn liar. They’re gonna kill that poor girl and it’ll have been for nothin’.”

Tommy chewed on his lip, pondering your information. He was probably even more worried about his brother now. As he should be. Joel wasn’t safe with the fireflies. No one was.

“Is there any way to contact them?” You asked, still hopeful.

“They’ve been gone for a month, Y/N,” Tommy admitted, hesitancy heavy in his voice, “Joel said they’d come back once they were finished.”

“Hopefully Joel realizes that Ellie will die and they’ll come back.” Maria reasoned, shooting you a small smile.

“This isn’t good.” You exhaled sharply.

Anyway, that was five months ago. You were still with them in Jackson. It was a safe community that actually thrived plus you weren’t going to give up the opportunity to see Joel again.

You were with Tommy in Jackson for almost six months now and still no word from Joel or his whereabouts.

You were starting to get discouraged.

You didn’t know it, but off in the far distance, Joel and Ellie were making their way back to Jackson.

You just needed to hold on just a little while longer.

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

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Safe and Sound Chapter 5: Sugar and Spice and I almost Died Twice

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x female!reader slow burn

TW: mentions of past abuse (physical and mental), panic attack, so much angst, trauma, I think that's it

Summary: Bradley finds out the truth.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: this gif and the movie it’s from ripped my heart out put it in a blender and threw it off the Empire State Building

Bradley sits across from you patiently waiting for you to start talking. After he figured out you lied about the bear, he invited himself in and plopped down on the couch. You know that you're not going to be able to keep the truth from him anymore, and part of you is relieved.

"I don't know where to start." You whisper and Bradley's eyes rake over your face. He's not looking at you with pity like you expected, and you're thankful. The last thing you need right now is someone feeling bad for you. It'll only make you feel like a burden.

"Okay," He begins gently. "Why don't you start with who the bear is actually from?" He suggests and you nod.

"It was from my ex, Shane. It was his way of letting me know he found me." You explain and you notice Bradley tense.

"Is he the reason you ran away from home?" He asks and you give a short, silent nod.

He swallows thickly and processes the reality of the situation. "Is he the one that did this to you?" He questions and the words taste like bitter vomit rolling off his tongue. He hates the idea that someone who was meant to love and protect you would do this.

"Yes, he's been showing up the past few months and watching me. Letting me know that I'm never safe." You murmur and Bradley grabs your hand.

"You're safe as long as I'm here. You should have told me sooner, I wouldn't have let this happen." He tells you while gently stroking his thumb over the back of your hand. The tenderness of the gesture makes you want to cry, but you swallow it down.

"I didn't want to bother you." You mumble and Bradley notices your breathing speed up. "I didn't want you to leave me." You cry and he shakes his head while pulling you into him.

"He threatened to kill me before I left. I don't want to put you in danger." You sob and his jaw ticks. He feels his muscles ripple with restraint as he uses every ounce of his self control not to go hunt this guy down. He can feel your heartbeat racing and he knows he has a finite amount of time before you slip into a full-blown panic attack.

"Hey, try to take deep breaths with me like this, okay?" He says while inhaling and exhaling slowly. "I'm fine, you're fine, we're fine." He assures you and you feel your pulse slowly come back down.

"Is that what all the nightmares have been about? And the reason that you won't go anywhere without me or Jake?" He already knows the answer, but he's trying to get as much information as he can.

You nod your head against his chest and he closes his eyes. He's relieved it wasn't because of something he had done, but his heart breaks at the realization that he could've protected you if he'd noticed the signs.

"This isn't that bad in comparison to the times he put me in the hospital.I coded on two seperate occasions." You say and Bradley stops breathing.

"How long did this go on for?" He asks hesitantly, unsure if he really wants to know. He doesn't think his heart can take it.

"Three years, but it wasn't all bad. The first year was great, but then he slowly isolated me from friends and family. I was in love with him, and I thought he was protecting me. Then we moved in together and it got worse. By then I didn't have a job or money, I had no way of leaving." You explain quietly and Bradley clings to every word like a lifeline.

"The night that he threatened to kill me, his eyes were almost black. I waited for him to fall asleep and then took cash out of his wallet and just drove."

He grinds his teeth silently for a few minutes before looking down at your tear-soaked face. "I think you should come to stay with me." He whispers into your hair and you frown.

"I know that last time you lived with a man, he hurt you. But you trust me, right? You know I would never, ever do anything to hurt you." He continues and you nod shortly.

"He knows where you live. I'd feel better about going to work if I know you're safe on base." He explains and you mull over the idea.

Bradley watches silently and you finally nod. "Okay. I can pack up what I need and if I forget anything I can come back and get it. It gives me some time to figure out what to do about Shane."

Bradley heaves a breath and leans his head back to look at the ceiling. "Can't we just call the police? He's been stalking you and he assaulted you!"

You reach up to stroke his cheek and shake your head. "The police won't help. The last time he got arrested he was let go, and it almost cost me my life. I'm on my own."

He lifts his head up to look at you and your stomach flutters. He looks at you like you hung the stars, and you've never had that before. "You'll never be on your own again, not as long as I'm alive." His voice holds such conviction that you don't have any choice but to believe him wholeheartedly.

"I'm going to call Jake to come stay with you while you pack. I'll head back to base and make some room for you at my house." He says and your eyes widen.

"I don't want Jake to see me like this." You breathe and Bradley's chest squeezes when your voice wobbles.

"Hey," He says while reaching out to cup your face. "He won't judge you or ask questions, okay?"

"Okay." You nod and he steps into the other room to make the phone call. He only gives Jake the basic rundown and tells him not to say anything about it. It's about twenty minutes before your doorbell rings and Bradley opens the door to let the blonde pilot in.

He knows what happened, but his breathing falters when he sees your face. He hadn't expected it to be so bad, and he instantly feels his blood boil. He masks it with a smile and makes his way over to sit on the couch.

"Hey little bird, can you get me some water?" He asks and you smile at his nickname for you. He called you it jokingly one day, saying it was because of your relationship with Rooster and the way he took you under his wing. Ever since then it just stuck.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be right back." You grin while standing up to go into the kitchen. Once you're out of the room, Jake looks at Bradley and can see the man is barely holding it together. The two of them communicate with their eyes, a silent understanding that they won't let this slide.

"Go, get out of here. I've got her." Jake says and Bradley glances in the direction you went before walking out the front door. He checks his surroundings to make sure Shane isn't lurking and his heart breaks when realizes this is how you've been living the past few months. Always looking over your shoulder, a constant fear looming over you.

He climbs into his bronco and slams the door before resting his head on the steering wheel. Now that he's alone the gravity of the situation comes crashing down, crushing him under its weight. He feels his throat tighten up and every time he closes his eyes he sees your bruised and battered face.

He thinks about what you put up with for years, and how scared and alone you were. How you were convinced that it was love and that you couldn't do better. Didn't deserve better. Images of you in the hospital and crying on the floor race through his mind and he feels a sob creep up from his lungs.

He imagines your terrified screams and crying for help at the Hard Deck and breaks down into hysterics. He knows it's not his fault, but he should have been there. He should've kept you safe, and his body shakes with violent cries as he leans back in his seat.

After a few minutes, he regains his composure and drives toward the base. He clears you out a drawer in his dresser and makes room in his closet before going into the bathroom and making sure you have space for whatever you bring.

He runs his hand down his face and double-checks everything before leaving to go back to your house. He pulls into your driveway and makes his way up to the door. He feels the hair on his arms stand up and freezes. He turns to look around and spots a dark car parked up the street from your house.

He doesn't have to ask you to know that it's your ex. He can feel himself being watched and he lingers for a second before going inside. He hears the car speed off and makes a mental note to get you out of here fast. He doesn't tell you that Shane was outside, he just walks into the room casually.

His heart warms as you laugh at something Jake said and you turn to smile brightly at him when you hear him come in. "You ready to go?" He asks and reaches down for your bags by the couch.

"Yeah, let's go." You affirm while standing up. Bradley may not have been there to protect you before, but he'll damn sure be there now. You'll never know what it's like to be afraid again, even if he has to take justice into his own hands.

@drakelover78 @manyfandomsfanvergent @ssprayberrythings @sarahsmi13s @disturbedbeautywrites @desert-fern @one-sweet-gubler @callmemana @luckyladycreator2 @bookchik26 @taytaylala12 @michalkasimp @xoxabs88xox @loveless-simp @withakindheartx @formulapierre @ccristata @shanimallina87 @starlite41 @noz4a2 @sadgirlgiselle @abaker74 @chair-things @k-k0129 @izz-ayes-world @kajjaka @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @phantomxoxo @rosiahills22 @little-wiseone @diggorycullen @secretsicanthideanymore @melllinaa @little-wiseone @gspenc @benhardysdrumstick

#top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw topgun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine

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junipers-hellspace · 8 months

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I Need Help .

Hi Tumblr. I feel pathetic for reaching out here but I have no where else to go. My name is June. I'm a 15 year old mentally unwell teen girl who is in an abusive relationship and I need help getting out of it.

My girlfriend and I have only been together for a few months. We've known each other for a little over a year now. We are both mentally ill and we both have shitty home lives. I'm recovering from a self harm addiction and anorexia. I've stayed with my girlfriend for as long as I have with hope that she would get better but she hasn't - she is actively getting worse and harming me and every one around her. I'm telling you all this so you have a backstory.

Anytime I do something that upsets my girlfriend, she threatens suicide. She will say she wants to/is going to overdose or simply kill herself and keep me up for hours trying to talk her down and then stop responding. In the morning she tells me she stopped responding because she fell asleep and didn't warn me. Every night she does this I have horrible panic attacks because when she stops responding I'm left to think she went through with it and killed herself. She does this every time I have to talk her down, which is at least once a week - normally more. This is extremely detrimental to my mental health. The thought that my girlfriend killed herself and I couldn't convince her not to is horrible, I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

She's also extremely obsessive and possessive. At first, I didn't see this as a problem because I am also that way. I was also extremely obsessive towards her and toxic in that way. I admit I was wrong for that and I was toxic. But she took it further than I ever have or ever would. I recently got back in contact with an ex of mine because he reached out to me. I never intended to replace my girlfriend with him or even get back into a relationship with him. When I told her I was talking to him again she said I was going to replace her and started talking about wanting to kill herself because of this. She got into a verbal, screaming fight with her father because he wouldn't let her come to my house. She told me she planned on physically fighting him that night if he didn't let her come over and that she would stab him. She has put me above her friends and has started ignoring her friends and getting mad at them for trying to be with her and not letting her be with me every moment she can. She has damaged her relationship with her father, her mother, and her friends because of me.

She talks about wanting to kill or injure people a lot, to the point where it's not just intrusive thoughts, it's something she wants to do and as she has stated, is willing to do. She has talked about being a sadist and wanting to hurt/hit me before. And she does. She does hurt me. She bites me to the point of leaving deep marks that last days, she twists my wrists and arms until they almost break, and she never stops. I've cried and begged her to stop hurting me before and she smiled at me and didn't stop. She has a history with hitting people and being physically abusive towards her friends and family. She has told me this herself. When she gets upset, she hits things. I don't want to be one of those things.

As I stated earlier, I'm in recovery for a self harm addiction and for anorexia. My girlfriend says she supports me and will help me recover, but she doesn't. When we hug she feels the need to tell me she can still feel my rib bones so I haven't gained as much weight as I think I have - but the thing is, with recovery, the way your body looks and how much you weigh doesn't matter. You are supposed to heal your relationship with food and yes of course get to a healthy weight. I don't know if she knows how triggering what she says is because she says it a lot. She always mentions how I am still bony and it's triggering She also encouraged me to relapse and cut myself again just so I could make her a vial of my blood. She wanted me to cut myself and ruin my progress and mental health and risk getting sent back to a psych ward just so she can have a vial of my blood.

I'm scared to break up with her because if I do I know she will try to kill herself. And if she succeeds, her blood will be on my hands. I will be the one who caused it. And if she doesn't succeed, I'm scared she will come to my house and hurt me. I'm scared she will hit me or kill me. I don't know what to do. I can't tell her parents and I can't tell my own because that would be unsafe and I would be put in more danger.

That's why I'm coming here. I need help. Any help. I need advice. What do I do. If you get this on your feed and you read this far, please reblog. It could save my life. Thank you

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blueberrypancakesworld · 1 year

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bianca uses her siren powers to screw with tyler which causes his hyde to accept a new master(xavier) who is forced to take care of the boy as he goes through a panic attack and doesn't take care of himself

Unwiling

warning : big fluff , angst , hurt/comfort , cuddling , kissing , soft

Tyler Galpin x Xavier Thorpe / Tylorpe

Info : Dear anon i hope you like it and i'ms sorry it took so long but here is your requested story. It was really fun and cute to write it. Have fun reading and everyone else too

masterlist

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Two hours ago, he wasn't covered in blood. Two hours ago, he had not almost killed people again. Two hours ago, he didn't have a new master. Two hours ago, he was not yet in the arms of Xavier, who was trying to calm him down. But two hours ago his heart was still beating as fast with love as it is now.

After the events with Crackstone and his former master, several months had passed. The whole town and the school were slowly but steadily recovering from the brutal murders and events.

Tyler himself was also facing new challenges. With the help of his father as Wednesday and the other students, they were able to explain the situation to some extent. However, he knew that he was no longer human.

He was half human half Hyde and yet his monster, however involuntary, was a part of him. A way to get closer to his mother, at least that's what he always told himself. But this gave him only a little comfort.

Comfort he found among his few friends who still treated him with a little distance in some situations. But as much as it hurt, he knew that he himself suffered the most.

And he did not resent them as good as not. He understood their fear, especially the fear that flared up in Enid's eyes from time to time when he and the werewolf were reminded of their fight. A tragedy.

But there were also beautiful moments, as well as every afternoon they all spent their lunch break together. This time they decided to retreat to the fencing room. Fortunately, they could sit anywhere, but they chose both the benches and a few chairs that were in the corner.

They all ate sandwiches together and Tyler had made coffee for everyone. Something that even Wednesday brought a small unimpressive smile to her lips. ,,Your shot of four espresso is to die for," she murmured, watching his touched smile.

Ajax, Enid and Xavier also nodded slightly, enjoying their warm drinks. They all brought something so that everyone could eat. ,,Do you already have the homework for fortune telling?" asked Ajax who gave one of his snakes a piece of ham from the ham and cheese sandwich.

A sigh of remembrance of homework went through the group. ,,Yeah, I got it...well my skills aren't the best," Tyler said, running his hands over his curls as he took his notebook out of his backpack and handed it to Ajax. ,,You can just give it back to me later today," he said casually before picking up the packing trash and heading to the trash can.

Since there was none nearby, he had to go out into the hallway. ,,I'll be right back," he said and looked at his friends one last time before slipping out through the doors.

A sigh escaped his lips as he breathed in the cool air through the larger surroundings. It only took a moment for him to arrive at the trash can. He was lost in thoughts of homework, his friends and Xavier.

He was hardly aware of his surroundings and did not look around. But he heard from afar footsteps barely perceptible, quiet and careful. Before he heard it a voice of which he thought he would hear it more. So familiar that it was strange again. It surrounded him, swam through his mind and befuddled him.

He hardly noticed how he staggered towards the fencing halls, how he had his hands wrapped around himself and his breathing was fast and heavy. He felt in the lightness of his voice how his body was transformed, his surroundings blurred for a moment before he could barely control himself. Find your master he heard the voice, his head shook, everything ached and burned.

It was always painful, but like now. It was horrible. He dimly sensed Wednesday hiding her friend Enid and Ajax behind her. They were all afraid, afraid that Hyde would kill them. But this Tyler tried hard not to scare his friends.

The monstrous creature lurched, its claws digging into its own skin, blood flowing down its body and onto the ground. He gave a scream and saw his friends wince. He himself was afraid. Afraid of what would happen. ,,Xa-Xavier" was the artist's name, and the younger man seemed to be trying to calm him down somehow.

Hyde went backwards, his back colliding painfully with the mirror, which shattered and injured himself even more. ,,It's going to be ok Tyler" he heard Xavier say as he hid his friends behind him and took them to the exit. He only heard the click of the lock on the door from afar. Master was the word that went through his mind as he fixed his gaze on the artist.

That gentle voice surrounded him again. Instructed him to accept it. Xavier approached him, raising his arms soothingly, saying calmly yet audibly, ,,Calm down, try to calm down". The words came through to him and seemed clearer than anything had in a long time. They felt good, like someone cared. Tyler hardly noticed how his Hyde stature slowly diminished.

Only when Xavier was standing a few meters away from him did he realize what had happened. ,,Oh shit...you-you're my master," Tyler said stunned, ruffling through his hair before pulling painfully at his curls. ,,What-how?" stammered Xavier, running a hand through his own hair. But he saw how chaotic everything around them was. Even the fact that Tyler didn't answer made him look from his hands to Tyler.

Tyler seemed to be completely out of it as he held his hair, his breath going too loud and too fast. A panic attack, he realized, something that wasn't necessarily new to him. Slowly he approached Tyler who was leaning against the broken mirror. Slowly he settled down next to him and watched him for a moment.

Slowly he put one hand on Tyler's and slowly pulled it away from his curly hair. ,,Hey, it's going to be okay," he said slowly and slowly stroked the other man's hand. He could feel the trembling, the tension in Tyler.

He thought for a moment, If I'm his master now, he mused. ,,Tyler, look at me," he asked the older man. To his amazement, Tyler lifted his head and Xavier looked at his tear-stained cheeks, reddish ears and eyes filled with pain and strain. He sobbed, probably trying to come to terms with the fact that he now had a new master.

His other hand went to the cheek of the barista. ,,May I?" he asked, seeing the small nod that showed fear and loss. He put it on the warm skin of the smaller one, gently stroking it with his thumb, trying to somehow take away some of the pain.

As funny and involuntary as the whole situation was for both of them. ,,What-what now," Tyler said, sniffling again and holding onto Xavier tightly. ,,I don't know, maybe after we figure this out we should find whoever did this and just start over," he said, pulling Tyler closer so the smaller man could rest his head in the crook of Xavier's neck. ,,I'm-I'm scared," he heard Tyler say dully, and Xavier stroked the smaller man's back. ,,Me too," the artist admitted, and even though he knew there was no worse moment, he knew that his heart was not only beating with fear.

But also with love and concern for Tyler. He pulled him a little closer, not wanting to let him go for fear he might hurt himself again. The wound he had inflicted on himself as Hyde and the cuts would heal.

But Tyler himself, they both knew the answer. ,,Thank you," the artist said and saw Tyler look at him for a moment. ,,For what?" he asked, wiping away a tear before snuggling back up to Xavier. ,,For letting me get so close to you, for letting me touch you, for letting me give you this, my Tyler," the artist crooned. But before Tyler knew what the taller one meant, he kissed him gently. Without franticness or nervousness or fear.

It was a kiss of pure reassuring love and closeness that they both had. ,,I will always love you no matter what" he reminded his friend and Tyler smiled sadly knowing. ,,And I will always love you for loving me," he said, and this time he gave Xavier a kiss that would keep them locked in the big room for some time. Because what they needed was what they had the most. Love.

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