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yandere-wishes · 8 months ago

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｡⸝❀Desert Rose ❀⸜｡

𐙚 Yandere! Paul Muad'Dib Atreides x Reader x Yandere! Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: You miss the desert. Miss the sun and the sand and the place where they buried your heart. So you run and pray that they won't catch you.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies blood and gore, bloodplay, knifeplay, injuries, Feyd being Feyd. Paul is high on spice for 60% of the story. Part two will be much more fluffy.

The thing they don't tell you about the desert is that it's alive. A breathing creature with feelings and a beating heart.~💜

There's blood on the Sietch floor, red and thick and sacrilegious.

You thought you had run far enough, fast enough. You thought you had escaped.

How terrifying it is to be betrayed by that which you love most. How terrifying it is when you've forgotten how to harmonize with that which love most.

That applies to the desert.

That applies to people too.

There's something about the sun that's never been more poetic. It's harsh in its lashes, a cruel master, reminding you of what you'd been born into. It beats down something terrible and you can't help but suppress the frantic giggle that escapes your dry lips."You're so mean" you mumble, the glimmers muddle your focus. You see silhouettes of blue-eyed warlords and tar-painted gladiators. Feel phantom kisses rummage across the hollow of your bones.

All of this is too familiar.

It makes you sick.

Back then your father had reveled in Muad'Dib's coming. Proud to meet a warrior such as he. He'd spent hours refining his war plans, polishing his battle tactics. It's always such a strange site to see excitement in such a strict man.

He introduced himself as destiny's child when he arrived. Dissolved and dehydrated with curls coated in sand. He was the desert's golden boy sent to fulfill every prophecy you'd ever been told.

And yet, to you, he'd simply looked like just another heartthrob.

Just another boy's name to whisper to your friends during blasphemous games under the starry night sky. He had been no different than any tribal leader or warrior's son. That was truly such a miraculous time, back when such an atrocious thing had been merely a girlhood toy.

Your father hadn't proposed marriage or alliances. That's not the Freman way, not during war. That doesn't stop the renegade gaze you've felt since he arrived. There's something stalking the desert, something too powerful to contain. You feel its chill, like the space between breaths before the breaching of the shai hulud.

"You can call me Paul..."

Lisan Al Gaib

The desert is a cacophony of dreams and nightmares. Deadly once the blood-deep navigation atrophies from constant complacency. You try to remember the prom of each foot. When to straighten, when to bend. Each step feels like treading through a mirage, murky and viscous. Too thick, too loose, you think you might sink. Fall through a false bottom into something great and endless.

There is no bottom, no end.

Only darkness, vast and perpetual.

You wonder if that's what it feels like to be swallowed by a sandworm. If there is security in its infinite stomach. If it's better than the Arrakeen Palace. Daunting, soulless structure, home to monsters and killers.

The sand grows thin.

It's always the thinnest nearest a Sietch.

You made it...

You wonder why it had all felt so gruesome, so unholy. Paul's cacoon of naivety was breached, its remnants nesting underneath his feet, their spines snapping with each ground-quaking step he took. Arrakis had given birth to something monstrous, something ravenous. Yet all you had seen was a youthful face that tells not of horrors or suffering. It only promises freedom.

Freedom was supposed to taste sweet, satisfying. The first sip from a childhood oasis. And you guess it had, for a little while. Before the realizations set in. Anyone who so openly grants freedom can take it away too.

Paul inhales the reverence of the crowd. Savors the saccharine taste of victory on his tongue, before he spits out the essence of his hatred. Watching the blood scorch away under the desert sun.

He swears he sees the sand dunes bow from the corner of his eye, they're towering magnificently bestowing something lethal onto him. Something they've yearned for, something fragile, something ancient. He deems it responsibility, duty, divinity and spins it into an enamelware crown.

Paul had become king. Not emperor, not sovereign, not overlord. Not yet at least. He's not the boy-prince from a distant planet anymore either. There no longer exists a boyhood carved of temperamental weathers and jagged salt-covered rocks. No more fairy tales of great dukes fighting bulls by the seaside and young princes running off on fighter jets to save mystical witches. There is only the sand and the giants underneath it, only a prophecy cracked whose ichor covers him in gold and stardust.

He is Muad'Dib, savoir of Dune.

Paul's eyes rummage through the crowd. Hungry, desperate

seeking out something, someone whose devotion does not show.

He memorizes the scowl on your face, the dip of your lips. How he longs to feel them under his thumb.

Duels concluded in death. When the ground has been fed its blood depts. When Jannah and Jahannam are granted another soul. That is when the victor arises. Duels end in death, in a chipped knife and a broken body on the floor.

This one did not...

The memory still haunts you.

Not in its breach of rite.

Nor its contradictions to morality.

But in what comes after.

The fear of the thing that was allowed to live...

Paul hadn't killed Feyd. Beaten, mauled, tamed. But not killed.

There is a rostrum made of sand and burnt bones. It was meant to serve as a victory throne, a symbol of a war and a revolt. You aren't so sure about that anymore. Not when it's being desecrated, by a survivor of the very thing it vowed to eradicate. Atop the dias, Paul stands, fingers swathed tightly around a pale, maimed wrist. The crowd stares, speechless as the prophetic son appoints a battered and bleeding Harkonnen Na-baron as his aid, his duke.

Feyd-Rautha is all jet blacks and blood reds. His eyes hold daggers, impaling anyone who dares to look into them. You can not fathom why Paul, the one who promised a paradise and an end to the Harkonnen oppression would do such a thing. You never thought him holy, you didn't consider him cruel either.

Paul hands over the spice trade to Feyd. He speaks of concentrated zones away from life. Somewhere deep and forgotten. He says "virtuous" as if it's a sermon only he can comprehend. "We need the funds, we need to rebuild, to fight. The spice is valuable and it will not hinder the awakening of Dune. My cousin will oversee its harvest and trade. The finances will be brought back to Arrakis, back to the Freman."

Maybe it's sorrow, a slithering nuance that won't leave. Maybe it's guilt twice folded and misplaced. Desperation for a kinsmanship

with a family, he had thought all lost. The way he looks at Feyd speaks of hope and trust and everything else a little boy feels when he's dragging his friend by the hand through a forest made of splendor and ideation. But Paul isn't a little boy anymore and Feyd has never been naught save a killer. And you, you can't help but notice how the Muad'dib begins to lose his golden hue.

The Sietch is cavernous, domed ceiling that expands into the rocks and sandy tiles that stretch as far as the eye can see. Unaltered spice particles dance in the gentle filtered rays of the sun. It feels like home. Like freedom and paradise and everything else those two men had stripped you of. Your body slumps by one of the etched walls. Awaiting your fellow Freman to find you.

There is a stiffness in the Freman, an elegance that must be mastered. You'd once thought it inherited, a mere bone structure passed on from mother to child. You're not so sure anymore. The stiffness reverberates off the Sietch walls, it's obvious now that it's never been about straight spines and high-held heads. It's the ideals, the loyalties that Fremen carve into their souls. Sooner or later someone will inform the king of where his darling hides.

All of Arrakis knows who you belong to.

One of the older women tunnels water down your throat, she cradles your head and shushes you when you try to speak. She spills advice, motherly advice, into your veins. Telling you of how blessed you are to be chosen by the Lisan Al Gaib and his blood. Her embrace is a vice, coddling suffocating and not at all unpleasant. There is a sleek comfort between the witherd silk of her chador. It heartens fatigue residing stubbornly between your bones. It causes your eyes to fade and your mind to race. You forgot the terrors that lay outside, the advancing menace carrying crystalknifes and a voice that shakes worlds. Darkness beckons, a welcomed change. For the first time in months, you feel safe...

You are still a Freman, born of sand and spice. There is a future somewhere with palm trees and rosa persica. You intend to find it, to hold it between your hands running tired fingers over soft cloud-light edges. Arrakis has stood for longer than most planets have existed. You refuse to abandon its fate to a spice addict and a manic.

It's obvious, isn't it?

Maybe it always was...

Arrakeen palace is shaped like a heart, something eternal ungraved. It was young when you first marched through its grand gates. It had felt no less threatening than the sandworms beneath your feet. The spice that flew through the halls was suffocating, a distant, permutated relative of the elixir that had raised you.

Paul's chancery is something empty, a cut out of Kaahgel masquerading as a citadel of dominance and perspicuity. It, much like the rest of the palace is novice and new. Paul sits in an awkwardly placed plush parlor chair, one retrieved from Caladan no doubt. He squirms in his seat as if his body has too many angles to fit properly in the rounded chair. He's far too accustomed to soft sands and jagged boulders. To sitting cross-legged on something loose and malleable. This luxury is unwelcomed, uncomfortable. You only notice Feyd when his demonic eyes suddenly land on you. He's languidly draped on the carpeted floor. His back half propped up by a quarter-painted wall. He's feeding slices of fruit into his mouth, savering the nick of the knife along his tongue.

They look so innocent. Sinless, carless little boys playing in a sanctuary fort. Hiding from life and its crushing expectations.

Paul follows his cousin's gaze, he's out of his seat and across the room before you have time to knock. You note the blackness under Paul's eyes, how the synthetic blue feels distant and sunken. Almost as if they're looking at you from meters inside a cave. He's wandering through the twilight of exhaustion. Paradying awakeness like a lost bat caught in the afternoon sun. He's only surviving on artificial energy from the spice he so readily consumes.

There is an exhilarating lilt in the timber of his voice. A galvanization in the way your name spills from between his lips. "What brings you here?" Paul's fingers dance across your shoulders, gripping them as one does their favorite toy. His eyes hold a fragile reverence, something unstable, denating with the slightest breath. "Lord Usul..." you begin, eyes bouncing between the sandy beiges of the walls. "You don't need to be so formal. Just say my name, like the first time we met." His nails start to dig into your arms, a jovian strength only a divine may possess. You don't remember leaving a deep impression.

"Paul, I-I need to talk to you about..." Your vision cuts to Feyd, a hidden flare penetrates his legs, you don't dare look the Harkonnen in the eyes. He's far too feral for such raw exhibitions of hate. Yet you want him to feel your abhorrence, your detest. Paul understands, he knows what you're going to say before you've even finished rehearsing in your head. "Feyd doesn't mind, you can talk freely in his presence, I promise you, he won't bite." You swallow the need to argue, to protest, he bites, he definitely bites, and lacerates and kills...

It's easy to fall between the crevices of his voice, to allow the gentle nudges to sway your decisions for you. You wonder if the words coming from your mouth are even truly your own. They had sounded so absolute in your head. So firm. Now they sound dented, feeble, like a child begging to remain awake. You tell the king of how you disapprove of the spice trade, that it should be ceased. Its termination can only benefit the war, hindering the galactical navigation of your enemies. Paul listens with a distracted sort of attendance. His eyes melt into you, tracing your features with a delicate precision. You feel like a map, laid bare, feeding him information. Information he ignores, opting to busy himself with tracing continents and oceans. "Paul please listen" you beg. "Please". You notice an ignited flicker in his eyes, snapping him out of his lucid trance. "You know, since you feel so strongly about...everything. Maybe, maybe you should stay here. With us. Be the queen or duchess or whatever. You can help us rebuild. You can-"

"What?" Your body jerks back, his fingers don't leave your forearms, pulling you back, closer. "Lord Usual...Paul...what are-" Something slithers between your bones, your skin, your muscles. Pushing past the cracks and sliding inside you. His mind grasps yours, echoing his desire, mapping out its constellation between your crux.

Paul feels in blues, blues that make up the nuance between worlds.

The ocean behind the largest dune

The lake beneath the greatest mountain.

The lamination of spice over one's eyes.

It somehow ends with you. Covered in a color that mimics ambitions and dreams and something practically attainable.

You feel him reach out, pushing you back into the physical world. Away from the luminous tints and flickering landscapes.

"I'm saying that everything I do reminds me of you. It's hard not to dedicate every single breath to your memory." Paul's eyes are blown wide, there's a lament carved into his voice. He's pleading, desperate, like trying to chisel rock with a pebble. You don't like where this is going, don't like the mania, the love that's painted so vividly on his face. Your stomach churns, false ecstasy pumping in agonizing doses. This is wrong, you shouldn't feel flattered, gleeful. This isn't a miracle or a blessing. It's a curse, you know this, you have to run to escape. But something in you freezes, a sickly silver of devotion, of habit, a tradition force-fed into your soul keeps your legs stiff and still.

Devotion is such a slippery thing. Always so close to suffocating. Sometimes all it's good for is a knife that kills. Just a grain of salt in a pulsing wound.

Your eyes flicker across the room, trying to look at something, anything but him, anything but the Muad'dib who could make you grovel at his feet like a doll without even opening his mouth. It's only in your frantic search for an affix point, that you notice the beast is missing. His dominion left empty. You feel a chill in the room. Something stalking closer, something lethal and rogue. You scream shriveling into Paul's arms as someone grips your waist from behind, encaging you. "You were right cousin, she's as beautiful as you described...and as brave." Your breath hitches, he's touching you. Your body twitches as a cold sweat breaks. "Paul" you plead looking up into his electric blue eyes. He only smiles, contorting his features into something they're not, something soft and arrogant. You see triumph shimmer through his mind. He's won a game you didn't know you were playing. Crowned victor by fate and circumstance and...

and prophecy.

Paul cradles your cheek in his hand, tilting your head up to look at you.

"The first time I set eyes upon you, I knew you were the girl in my dreams. The desert rose beckoning me to Arrakis, to Dune. Don't you see, we've been bound by fate?"

No.

Feyd slowly licks the shell of your ear, he hums in satisfaction, an action you didn't know could be laced with so much malice. He murmurs something into your jugular, something too violent to decode.

No.

Please no.

It's easier to love than to be loved.

There's a jolt that rings you awake, something violent crawling under your skin. You feel it before you witness it, witness the cold and loneliness not viable in the desert temples.

The halls scream in silence,

Hollow, employed out.

"Hello?" The eerie reverberation of your words leaves you shivering. Scraping along the walls, tumbling into doorless rooms trying to find someone, anyone. You can't remember the last time you'd been alone.

Utterly alone.

You didn't notice it at first. Didn't notice the unnatural stillness and the deafening silence. there is no life here, but it takes a practically mangled corpse for you to look down at the floor.

There's blood on the Sietch floor, red and thick and sacrilegious.

You thought you had run far enough, fast enough. You thought you had escaped. You turn and you run, back from that which you came, feet thundering across the sand-dusted floor. You don't know where you're going, why even run? Helplessness swells inside you, coiling in intricate knots. Only to snap violently when you cross the third threshold.

The corpses lie at his feet. your frenzied brain tries to count them, only going up to eight before it forgets what comes after. There is more, more bodies, more blood...more bones? But you can't focus on anything else except the glabrous man standing over them, knife pointed downwards, dripping into an endless sea of red.

Your father used to tell you tales of rivers made of blood. Of mad men claiming divine crusades as they fed bodies into the endless stream.

You never thought you'd witness it.

It shouldn't feel as conflicting as it does.

"Darling..." Feyd's voice is gravel on gravel. Rough and coursed. It grinds against your skin reawakening every half-healed scar.

"no, dear maker, please no" Feyd's gaze rakes over you, lingering on every detail. Toying and probing, much like a predator sizing up its frightened prey. "I missed you" his voice is purely threatening, mocking, he wants you back, needs you back. You can't be forgiven for this deliberate offense.

You try to bolt passed him, it's like a gallon of adrenaline has been shot straight into your chest. There's a scream in the air, you're not sure who it belongs to. you make it to the hallway leading to the contraction arena. Where the bearers of the water of life are nursed. You can see the stone-carved stairs and someone sitting there...

The ground slips beneath your feet, the red liquid having leaked under your soles. In the next breath, you're plunging into redness, shrouded and engulfed and bathed in the blood of your own kind. It feels warm and safe and disgusting. Like watching the stars of your favorite constellation collapse within themselves. It's a destructive kind of comfort, one that only ends in pain and bruises and fractured bones in places you can never wholly identify.

You're drowning,

the more you thrash the harder it gets to stand.

You feel the blood entangling you, weaving around your body like a net.

and then like a shadow, he's over you.

Looming with the promise of pain, of the misery of the savagery only he can offer.

"Feyd..." his name is razorblades upon your tongue. Your eyes catch his, distant voids colliding. Since when did you start looking into his eyes? When did the torture become worth it? His fingers ensnare your jaw, pushing cheeks and bones together. Feyd straddles your body, knees splashing into the blood. He tugs your head forward violently, before pounding it onto the floor. You moan out in pain a mangled, distorted noise. He only chuckles. Before repeating the motion. "You ran from us, you left us. I should kill you here and now. Bleed you out with the rest of these traitors!" it's hard not to notice the pain his voice harbors, odd how even a monster like Feyd can have his feelings hurt. He lifts his knife, wrapping both hands around the handle before plunging it into your abdomen. You choke, on a shriveled scream or a throat filled with blood you do not know. The colors are dulling and pulsating, somehow too dark and too bright at the same time. Everything feels like it's made of flowing water. Precious streaming water. You can feel the throbbing at the back of your skull, you feel the giddy patter of your heart, and the nervous ticks of your hips under Feyd.

Feyd...

Has he always been so beautiful?

Your body feels so hot and your mind feels so distant.

Everything feeds into his endless beauty.

Why are your lips pulsing?

your teeth sink in, trying to still the need to kiss.

"What's wrong princess, trying to play innocent? I know your tricks."

Feyd traces your lips with his. Fingers snake into your hair, pulling at odd intervals. "my sweet stupid little girl" he whispers, a curse and a blessing. He sucks on your bottom lip biting it harshly. Slipping his tongue between your teeth. His kiss is possessive, and swallowing. You feel yourself sinking deeper, wanting him to consume you whole. When he pulls back you feel like you can't breathe, you only existed within his kiss. It's the last thing binding you to this world.

But then his head dips down. Leaving open-mouthed kisses upon the gushing injury. Feyd drinks deeply from your open wound, ravaging the blood and pushing in silver of a forgotten moonlight. The way his tongue laps at the gaping hole and torn ligament sends a shutter up your spin. When he lifts his head again you watch mesmerized by the way your essence drips from his lips. He kisses you again ferocious and deep and all conusiming.

You feel so lost and so found.

Grounded and afloat.

It's only when a scream, a familiar one, in a distance distorted sort of way, rings across the hall that you start to pull away. You push yourself up, palms slipping on the liquid life. From behind Feyd, you notice a man and a women. Young, scared. There is revulse in their blue eyes, yet you can't navigate its direction. You're sure if you weren't bleeding out you could identify them, you're sure you knew them in this lifetime. You hear the blood gushing, hear the crisp whistle of the blade as it slices through flesh.

Once

Twice.

Only then does the alluring migraine sober. The metallic tang of blood wafting through the air makes you sick. It's odd how the repugnant scent had alluded you until now. Even if you'd been lying right in it. You wonder if such a scent would bother them. You doubt it, they tend to revel in the red glory and its hypnotizing associations.

"Took you long enough, cousin" Feyd's head is turned watching as Paul steps past the corpses. His eyes are vibrant, a sapphire blue that cuts through time and space. He kneels next to you, gaze devouring you in your pitiful state. "why did you run?" he is cold, hurt. His blue eyes betray a degree of relief hidden by a defrauding glower. "I-we love you, you mean everything to us." You look away too exhausted to put up an argument. "I missed being home." You mumble. You swore for a minute something akin to comprehension ripples through the air. You're too delusional to believe in anything solid anymore. But maybe Paul understands, maybe he yearns for the desert too. Maybe he'll go easy on you...

Paul's fingers glide across your stomach, scattering the dust particles that have landed on your still form. The light from the high windows glimmers off the three of you painting something holy, something right, in another world, in another lifetime. When he sees the wound Feyd created he chuckles. " Stars Feyd, at least try to keep her alive." Paul's nails gently rack across the torn ligament, idly playing with the loose skin. Feyd laughs deep and psychotic -is it wrong to say you missed it?- "I couldn't help myself, you should have seen her. Eyes blown wide covered in blood. Stars I just want-" you interrupt him with a low moan. Paul rubs his calloused thumb over your wound, soothing the cut before he presses down. Hard.

when he hears the moan he presses harder. Making you wither and hiss. "This is a punishment, (y/n), you're not supposed to be enjoying it." His fingers slither into the open wound, stretching out the ligament " You jolt and holler and cry, begging him to stop. "You're my oasis, the only thing I love in this world. But you ran. YOU LEFT US." His words glitch and crack, the voice shining through penetrating you with a knife seeped in guilt. "I'm sorry." you choke out, only to be rewarded by another harsh cut from Feyd's knife. "I'm the daughter of the desert..." you protest, tears slipping past your hooded eyes. "You're our lover" Feyd barks defensively, aggravated. When the tears begin to leak the pain stops. "Don't waste your water" Paul mutters, wiping away a tear and sucking it between his lips savoring your delicate taste.

Paul cradles your bleeding head in his lap, lowering his to kiss your crimson-soaked lips, "I love you" he mumbles against you, trying to press the core of his words into you. Making you feel him, making you believe. Feyd tucks your hair out of your face. Slowly pulling you up by your shoulders. The thin smile he offers is such a rare sight it makes your heart explode.

Why did you run away?

Why did you leave the ones you love most?

Your heart is laying on a bed of nails.

Somehow that feels fitting.

Feyd pulls off the top of his stillsuit, discarding the armor-like pieces. Slowly he lays in the gore, he pulls you over him. His motions slow, mesmeric. You follow just another wave trapped in the current. You're so torn and hurt, broken in ways that can never properly heal. You let it happen, it's easier this way. Slowly he licks his blade clean of your blood, he grabs your wrist places the hilt in your hands, and tucks your fingers over it. "Hold on tight," he advises as he draws your hand back and brings the knife down between his defined muscles. The moan he lets out is profane, it makes you feel euphoric, filled to the brim with the merriment of guilt. Feyd kisses you again, his tongue pushes past your teeth, his conquest of you feels Harkonnen in every way. His tongue down your throat feels like a heavenly bliss. From behind Paul breaks the back of your stillsuit, he licks a strip up and down your spine. You moan into the kiss with Feyd. Slowly Paul starts to whisper firefly kisses into each vertebrae. Sucking melodies into the frail bones. His teeth snick between the cartilage, all scorpion stings, and cobra bites. It feels so right.

Feyd is a cannibalistic star, relishing in the way your wounds bleed into his. He feeds off your pain, feeds off the pain you grant. He's delusional with a cosmic kind of lust. Pulling celestials from their homes to burn into his own body. He loves you, loves how you penetrate him with a knife clad in anathema and adherence too turbulent to understand.

Paul is, in many ways Feyd's opposite and in many others his equal. The quintessence of the path to hell being paved with good intentions. His kisses are the desert's curse and it's love. He's an entire solar system revolving around the only two people he has left to love.

Slowly the world grows dark. You feel it hard to remain awake. "Sweet dreams princess" you hear Paul whisper as Feyd shuffles under you. You fall into his expecting arms. Safe and strong. The day has been so long and bootless. so tiring. so vexing.

Yet somehow, in the endlessness of the moment, it matters all so little. Paul is here and he can hang the stars upon the night sky. Feyd is here and he can slaughter the universe and call it entertainment. You are safe with them, safe and happy and satisfied.

ngl this is the longest tag list I've ever gotten. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!💜💜 Let me know if you want to be added to future taglists

@deertaur , @fragileheartbeats , @yandere-romanticaa , @galaxyquirks , @feedmestraycats , @peachysunrize , @slytherinholland , @missbeeentertainment , @moonchild-artemisdaughter , @shiranai-atsune , @therealoutereffect , @frenchgirlinlondon , @purplefrogella , @yzuposts , @whiteoakoak , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs , @pomtherine , @goldenatreides , @sorianis , @howibecameabadassbitch , @sansaorgana

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flemingsfreckles · 9 months ago

Text

He’s Ours

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: you and Jessie have your first baby

Warnings: child birth I guess? But there’s nothing graphic related to it but better safe than sorry 🤷‍♀️

WC: 2.1k quick read :)

A/N: this was just a one shot because that middle photo of Jessie gives me massive baby fever, i want to have her babies.

“Oh he’s perfect, you made him perfect.” Jessie whispered to you. Her forehead was pressed firmly to yours and her eyes locked with yours. Tears were running down your face from both exhaustion and the overwhelming reality that you just gave birth to your first child. “I’m so proud of you, I love you. You did amazing.” She whispers, punctuating her sentence with a kiss on the forehead. Too tired to give her a verbal response you just closed your eyes and softly smiled at her.

Jessie had praised you all through pregnancy, she always made time to tell you how beautiful you looked, how well you were doing, how good of a mom you already were to the unborn child. It was no surprise to you how encouraging and supportive she had been, she was always your biggest fan, even before you were pregnant.

Jessie had been over the moon when you finally got a positive pregnancy test. The two of you had been in the process of trying for months, resulting in nothing but a pile of negative tests and more doctors visits. When you finally saw the two lines on the test you nearly passed out, Jessie had to help you sit down on the bathroom floor, getting you a wet washcloth for your face to help cool you off.

That moment from 8 months ago flashed through your mind when Jessie had held a washcloth to your forehead as you pushed, it felt like just days ago when you found out and here you were, already having the baby, time had flown by.

Your couple of two was now a new family of three. A nurse came over, placing your son on your bare chest, draping a blanket on top of both of you.

“Congratulations, Moms.”

“Thank you.” Jessie says to the nurse.

You crane your head downward to look at your son. He had a little bit of hair, his skin was red, his eyes closed. It was surreal, you couldn’t believe that the baby you had grown was finally in front of you. His hands were spread across your chest, gripping ever so slightly at your skin.

You bring up a hand, gently cupping your son's butt and back, his body fitting into your hand. Jessie brings a hand up, you watch as she hesitates before softly placing her hand slightly overlapping yours onto the upper back and shoulders of your baby. You can feel how lightly she is pressing, as if he’s made of glass.

“You’re not going to break him Jessie.”

“I know that in my mind, but I can’t, but he’s just so small.” She looks up from where she was fixated on your son, you can see tears on the brim of her eyes. The three of you stayed like that until the nurses came back to take him for some quick newborn testing. You almost didn't let them take him, you wanted to keep holding him, but they assured you it wouldn’t be more than 30 minutes and they’d have him back in your arms shortly.

You're not sure how much time had passed when you woke up, you’re whole body sore, feeling nearly hungover, tired, dehydrated, a hint of nausea.

“Hi.” You turn to see Jessie, she’s sitting at your bedside, holding your son who has been clothes and swaddled into a blanket. He’s quiet, awake but not making noise. “They brought him back a little bit ago, sorry I didn’t wake you but I figured you could use the sleep.”

“Thanks.” You have to admit you were a bit sad you missed his return but you were grateful your wife let you sleep. You couldn’t stop looking at her. The way she was holding your little bundle of joy, she was smiling, she hadn’t stopped smiling since she heard his first cries. She was looking down at him, making faces at him. She was wearing a black hoodie and a pair of training shorts from a day ago now. Her baby hairs sticking out from the hood in every direction. She hadn’t slept in nearly 26 hours but she looked perfect.

She had been at training when you called her. You actually had to call Janine, who was still working on her ACL recovery, she always had her phone on her unlike your wife. Jessie was set to take time off from training starting next week, a week before your due date, but your son had other plans and decided to grace you with his presence early. Janine thankfully answered on the first ring and went running to find Jessie. You were grateful that Janine was allowed to be running, or else she would’ve had to slowly limp or crutch to find your wife. You could hear Janine shouting at Jessie from across the pitch, followed by some talking but you were too focused on a contraction to listen. Seconds later Jessie was calling you, you hung up with Janine and got on the phone with Jessie, you stayed on the phone with her all the way until she came running into your hospital room. You were admitted to the hospital late that night and didn’t meet your son until early the next morning.

It was such a surreal feeling, watching Jessie hold him. You had seen her with other babies before, other player’s babies, friend’s kids, or just random fans' babies that she’s held for photos. That was truely what made you want to have a baby with her so badly. She gave you baby fever you had never had baby fever before you were with her. But nothing compared to the baby fever you felt seeing her with her hand on your son. You were ready to start over and have more of her babies the way she looked at him and looked at you with overwhelming love in her eyes.

Jessie stands up, walking over to you, holding out the bundle of blanket and baby. “Do you want to hold him? I can, if you’d rather rest more, just, you did all the hard work. I want to let you hold him if you want to.”

“Jessie you put up with me pregnant and trying to get pregnant for over a year, I think if anyone had the hard job it was you.” You extend your arms to her, she gently places your son on your chest. Jessie had been a saint during your pregnancy, getting up early with you when you were sick, staying up late to rub your feet. She would stand behind you and hold your belly, taking the weight off of you for as long as you’d let her. She would jump out of bed late at night to make you a snack no matter how early she had to get up. She would FaceTime you for hours on end when she had to be away. Jessie couldn’t have been a better partner.

“All his newborn tests came back good. I wrote down all the details so you could have them if you wanted but everything’s good. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus a little bit.” You both laugh. “But I guess that’s normal.” You point toward your water bottle and electrolytes that sat next to it, Jessie hands you both.

“The nurses and doctors are going to come check on you in a little bit too, they came in while you were sleeping but I asked if they could let you be for a bit. Since you didn’t have any issues and your vitals were fine they said they’d come back in an hour.”

“Okay.” You appreciated the heads up from Jessie, the doctors, the exams, the appointment, the stress, the test, were your least favorite part of pregnancy and she knew it, she tried her best to ease your discomfort and anxieties about it whenever she could. You were happy to know that part of parenthood was pretty much over, back to routine.

It was peaceful for a second before your son started wailing.

“What do I do? I don’t know what to do?” You’re wide eyed looking at your wife. A deep feeling of panic begins to build in your stomach. The reality that you’re now responsible for this little baby boy’s life sets in. You’ve never been a mom, you have no idea how to be a mom.

“It’s okay babe. You do. Do you want me to take him?” She wanted to help, her goal was to ease your stress. It was stressful for both of you being new parents but she knew you were experiencing it a little differently with the hormones from birth.

“No, I just don’t know what to do!” You’re on the verge of tears, you feel helpless, your son was crying and you weren’t sure what he needed. He was helpless and you were supposed to be the one to help him.

“Do you want to try and feed him again?” Jessie offers gently, you had tried to feed him earlier with the help of nurses but your son seemed to have no interest and it had left you feeling a little defeated.

“I guess.” You were hesitant but you weren’t sure what else he needed, he was warm, being held and didn’t need to be changed. Jessie held her arms out, taking him from you so you could sit up and get your shirt out of the way. While you were adjusting one of the nurses came in, letting you know that if you wanted help or assistance she was there but that you were welcome to do it on your own as well.

Jessie handed you back your son, she had unwrapped him from the tight swaddle. “The nurse said him being skin to skin might help.” You placed your son against your chest, offering him the chance to feed. You maneuvered yourself and your son with the help of Jessie until finally he had latched and was peacefully eating. You felt so relieved, finally feeling like you were doing a good job of being a mom. He ate until his mouth fell open, his eyes now closed as he drifted asleep.

“See.” Jessie whispered to you, “you do know what he needs, you’re his Mom. Even if it’s scary and new, you know how to help him. I’m here with you too, this isn’t all on you babe.” She placed a kiss on the top of your head and you craned your neck up, puckering your lips. She placed her lips softly on yours, not caring about the PDA in front of the doctors and nurses.

“You’re his Mom too Jess, his our baby boy.” You never wanted Jessie to feel like she was less of his mother because she didn’t carry him or birth him, she was equally his Mom as you were.

“I know, he’s ours.” You both can’t pull your eyes off the sleeping boy, laying across your chest, your arms holding him to you.

“I love you.” You quietly whispered to her, not wanting to wake your son from his sleep.

“I love you.” She whispered back, placing a blanket across both of you again, letting you drift to sleep while she kept a watchful eye on both of you, the two people she loved the most in this world.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt #portland thorns

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lady0ctavia · 3 months ago

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When They See Their S/O Crying (Allies)

Headcanons for how I think the Hetalia characters would act if they walked in on their S/O crying.

America: Okay, Alfred would low-key start to freak out a little bit. He's pretty good at dealing with people in general, but that's only when they're in a good mood. He doesn't totally know what to do for someone who's crying. So when he sees your tears, he's a little thrown. His first instinct is to try and make you laugh or smile, and if that fails, he'll realize that whatever is going on is more serious and will wrap his arms around you, telling you, "Hey, it's okay. Just let it out." He really does try. It's just that, surprisingly enough, comforting others isn't always the hero's strong suit.

England: Arthur would immediately take this very seriously, reaching forward to hold your hand with both hands, rubbing his thumb over your skin. He'll look you in the eye and insist on knowing what's wrong. When he doesn't get an answer and you continue crying, he'll gently hold your head and tenderly wipe away your tears, giving you small kisses on your face. He'd also take the time to make you two a pot of tea after you've calmed down a bit, hoping to calm you down even further, as well as get you to explain to him what's going on.

France: Francis's heart will shatter upon seeing your tears, reaching forward to wrap you up in his arms before bringing you down to take a seat with him on the couch. He'd run his fingers through your hair, allow you to press your body into his, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear in French. He'd also hold your hand tightly and bring it up to his chest, as well as kiss away your tears. If you need to vent to him, he'd be all ears, willingly listening to all you have to say. I can also see him playing soft music to try and calm you down.

Russia: If Ivan sees you crying, prepare for him to become the ultimate teddy bear. He'll hug you tightly, wrapping his big, strong arms around you. He'd sit down with you in his lap, practically wrapping his body around yours. I can also see him being the kind of guy to gently sway you to and fro as if cradling a frightened child. It hurts him to see you in any kind of emotional pain, and he wants to do everything in his power to help you. He'd also make you hot cocoa and give you little kisses on the nose after you calm down.

China: Yao is surprised at first, but quickly springs into action. He'd softly grab your arm and gently guide you towards a place to sit down. He'd sit close to you and start rubbing his hand up and down your back. If you need to, he'll allow you to hold onto him as you cry. He'd rest his head on yours and allow you to let it all out. Afterward, I can see him getting you some water to rehydrate with (crying can dehydrate you) and offering to make you a special meal that night to try and lift your spirit. Of course, after you tell him what's going on.

Canada: Matthieu would press his forehead to yours, and softly ask you what's wrong. If you're too upset to answer, he'll just rub his hands up and down your arms while shushing your cries, pressing small kisses to your cheeks and around your eyes, hoping to kiss the tears away. He'd listen to your problems as he preps you some herbal tea in the kitchen. As the two of you sit there he'll take your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, smiling at you sweetly.

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ghcstify · 7 months ago

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✦ . ⁺ BITTER GIFT

carl grimes x fem reader

¡! warnings: enemies to lovers, death, weapon mentions, blood, injuries, angst & traumatic events

¡! a/n: this is a looooong one (specifically 3.6k words, um..) and it doesn’t really have to do with carl that much until the middle, sorry about that :c

the day you lost your parents is one you'll never forget. the sudden screams and gunshots continue to echo in your mind. you had a strong sense that you were one of the few who managed to escape the overrun camp where you and your family had stayed from the very beginning. despite being dehydrated and exhausted, you somehow managed to survive on your own for a while. then one day, you suddenly found you weren't alone anymore.

hearing footsteps behind you, you swiftly drew your knife from your hip and held it out in front of you. you found yourself at a doorway, realizing you needed to act swiftly to eliminate what you believed to be a walker. as you quickly moved past the door frame, you were met with a crossbow aimed directly at your face by a middle-aged man.

“daryl?” you heard another man speak, and with that, your anxiety intensified. you heard another pair of footsteps come up behind the guy who had his crossbow pointed at you. “put it down, she’s just a child,” the blue-eyed man spoke, and as the other man listened intently, he slowly lowered the crossbow from your face.

“i’m rick, this is daryl. what’s yours?” the man with blue eyes spoke. for some reason, you found yourself unable to even say your name to these strangers. you couldn’t determine if they were dangerous or if they had others around them waiting to harm you. you just weren’t sure. after a while, you finally spoke up. “y/n, i’m y/n,” you responded, lowering your knife to signal that you intended no harm. silence filled the air for what seemed like an eternity before rick finally spoke, “how many walkers have you killed?”

“what?”

“how many walkers have you killed?”

with the sudden question to which you had no answer to, your nervousness intensified. “i… i don’t know, i lost track,” you responded, hoping that not having an answer wouldn't cause any trouble. “how many people have you killed?” he posed yet another unusual question. with that question remaining unanswered, you took a deep breath before replying, “two.”

“why?”

why? what did he mean by “why”? given that your response to the “why” question might be hurtful, you took a moment to collect yourself before addressing yet another question. “my mom and a stranger because they asked me to,” you answered. rick gave daryl a sidelong glance, which left you confused. you still couldn't decide whether they were good people or not.

“we’re part of a larger community, you look like you could use it,” rick mentioned. you had observed daryl's silence, suggesting that he was likely a very reserved individual. at first, you were unsure of what to say, realizing how big of an opportunity this was in such a world. searching for the right words, all you could express was, “really? i would love to.”

before you realized it, you found yourself in an actual car with rick at the wheel and daryl in the passenger seat, heading towards what he described as a “large community.” the journey was marked by an unsettling silence, which only added to your discomfort. however, if they were telling the truth, it would be worth it.

upon finally arriving at the community, you looked out the window to see actual houses still standing, walls fortifying the area, and a sign that read, “welcome to the alexandria safe zone, mercy for the lost, vengeance for the plunderers.” observing this sign and noting all the pre-apocalyptic details, you genuinely felt a sense of safety and assurance that nothing bad would happen here.

rick had opened the car door for you, allowing you to step out and walk through the gates of your future. this gesture made you reconsider your initial impression, thinking that perhaps these people were not as bad as you had thought. taking everything in, rick began to speak, “if you don’t mind, my son’ll show you around. is that okay with you?” quickly nodding in response, daryl spoke up and instructed a middle-aged, brown-haired woman to open the gate. as the gates closed behind you, she approached and began to examine you. “i’m rosita,” she extended her hand towards you, signaling for a handshake. putting your hand in hers and shaking each others hand, you replied, “i’m y/n.”

after sharing your painful past with rosita for a moment, you hear footsteps approaching. turning around, you see a boy wearing a cowboy hat with long hair and a bandage over his left eye. “my dad wanted me to show you around,” he spoke, his voice carrying a subtle hint of annoyance. after parting ways with rosita, you found yourself walking in silence alongside the boy. “you never told me your name,” you finally break the unbearable silence by speaking up. “uh, it’s carl,” he replies, his voice still carrying that slight hint of annoyance. realizing that he didn't really want to be there, you remain silent. it becomes clear that carl isn't much of a people person, or perhaps you haven't been around him long enough for him to warm up to you.

an hour or two passed with carl still giving you a tour, yet you still felt as if he didn't like you. perhaps your gut feeling was right — maybe he really did want you gone. however, all you wanted was to make friends. after the lengthy tour was over, you found yourself sitting on your bed. unsure of what to do next, you layed down and drifted off to sleep.

months had passed, and you had developed many friendships, including with rosita, glenn, michonne, rick, and maggie; unfortunately, carl was not among them. in all honesty, you found that you didn't mind. you were beginning to feel similarly, not particularly liking him, though you couldn't quite discern the reason why. upon hearing the gossip, you learned that rick and carl had encountered someone in a gas station parking lot. you felt a pang of guilt, knowing that you were in that situation at once and you realized that you needed to take action. you decided to approach rick to discuss the situation and possibly work something out with him.

“if you decide to do what you’re going to do, i’d feel better with carl by your side,” rick spoke as you stood at the doorway of the house he shared with michonne and carl. “rick, you know he doesn’t like me,” you replied, feeling a sense of anxiety about having to work with someone who seemingly didn't even like you. “then i don’t know what to tell you,” he responded, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. as he conveyed this information, you started to carefully contemplate your course of action. silence filled the house before you finally spoke, “okay, do you think you could talk to him?” before replying, he gave you a reassuring nod,

“of course.”

and with that, you retreated to your room to figure out what your plan was going to be. about an hour later, a knock sounded at your bedroom door. for some reason, you believed it was carl, and you took a deep breath before saying, “come in.” the door opened swiftly to reveal rosita.

“i heard what you’re doing,” she said as she stood at your doorway, the worry evident in her brown eyes. “i kind of have to do this, rose,” you replied as you began to contemplate where you would be right now if it weren’t for rick and daryl. she sighed before approaching you and taking a seat beside you. “i get that,” she remarked before continuing on, “but you really don’t have to.” you shook your head from side to side, indicating your disagreement with her. “i somehow got saved, so why not save someone else in return?”

“y/n….”

she spoke in a tone that conveyed her concern for you. giving her a smile, she embraced you before expressing her feelings in more profound words, “just be careful, please.”

“i will, i promise.”

after rosita had left, your door creaked open to reveal rick, who acknowledged you with a nod, indicating that he had successfully convinced carl to work with you. the next morning, you waited at the gate for carl to arrive, eager to get this over with. despite your efforts to convince yourself that carl wasn't such a bad person, you still couldn't find yourself caring for him. lost in thought, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. turning around, you saw carl finally making his way towards you. you turned back around to head out of the gate, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself for the discomfort that was about to ensue.

rick had previously informed you both that this individual followed specific routes each day. since today was one of the days he would pass through the forest, you and carl waited for him at that location. breaking the silence, carl finally initiated the conversation, “how long were you out there?” not fully believing that he was actually addressing you, you turned to look at him before replying, “about 3 to 4 months, i kind of lost track after a while.” he nodded in response and once again, he spoke up, “where are your parents?” with carl posing all these questions, you started to think that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “dead,” you responded, maintaining your composure by looking at the ground.

“i’m sorry.”

before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by footsteps. you and carl exchanged a nod and with this, you both approached the man, hands raised to signal that you meant no harm. “we’re not going to hurt you,” carl remarked, directing his gaze toward the man who had just finished killing a walker. after carl had spoken, it was your turn. you grabbed the bag of food and water and tossed it to the man. “there’s food and water in there.”

addressing the bag of food and water, the man fell to the floor, grabbing it and opening it. he grasped the bottle of water and chugged it, which reassured you about the decision you had made. “i’m glad i found you,” carl stated, breaking the silence. “you were looking for me?” the man inquired as he rose to his feet. “me and her, we’re in a community,” carl dodges the man’s question with a statement that could positively impact the man’s life. putting your hands down, the two of you slowly approach the man, as you begin to speak, “we’re going to ask you a few questions. we need you to answer honestly, okay?”

“how many walkers have you killed?” carl asked, breaking the silence, his voice carrying a tone of curiosity and anticipation. “i know it’s hard to keep track-“

“237.”

“really?” you asked with a professional tone and a thoughtful demeanor. “give or take a couple,” the man responded as he glanced at the walker he had previously put down. and with that, carl asked the second question, “how many people have you killed?”

“one.”

“why?” you asked, curious to know his answer. “dead tried to kill him, but they didn’t.” he responded while looking down at the ground. both you and carl had nodded at his response.

as you surveyed your surroundings, you observed that the man employed traps to kill the walkers. “you’re making walker traps. is that how you’ve killed so many?” you ask as you draw attention to his method of eliminating walkers. “it’s only part of it…. my mom thought, or hoped that killing them would.. free their souls,” he replied in a genuine and sincere tone, his words carrying a sense of honesty and earnestness that was unmistakable. after he stated this, you and carl exchanged a glance before refocusing your attention on the man. “you know, maybe she was right,” he continued speaking, his tone growing increasingly sincere.

“but doing that, doesn’t it just make things harder for you while you’re trying to survive?” carl asked as he closed the distance between him and the man. “i… i don’t know. but you… you gotta honor your parents, right?” the man spoke once again, his tone genuinely sincere. “if i wasn’t honoring my dad, we wouldn’t be talking right now,” carl replied with a slight smile spread across his face before continuing on, “and i definitely wouldn’t bring you back to our community.”

walking back to alexandria and engaging in conversation, you discovered that the man's name was siddiq. suddenly, you had encountered a few walkers — nothing that you couldn’t take care of…. right? drawing your knife, you noticed that siddiq had fallen to the ground due to a walker, and carl looked at you. “go! help him, i got this,” you shouted as you plunged your knife into the head of one of the walkers. unaware, you found yourself trapped and fell backward onto a deer that the walkers were feeding on. your knife had landed roughly two feet away, and as you layed on the ground, three walkers had fallen on top of you.

as you attempted to reach for your gun, you felt a burning sensation on the side of your torso.

fortunately, you managed to equip your gun and shoot all three walkers. pushing their bodies off of you, you stood up to find carl and siddiq looking at you. "are you okay?" carl asked, worry evident on his face. “we should go,” you avoided his question, pushing past the two who exchanged a glance as you walked by.

the walk back was as dreadful as you had anticipated; no one uttered a word or noise, except for your coughing. to enter alexandria without raising questions about siddiq, the three of you decided to use the sewers. as you climbed in, you noticed that carl kept staring at you. “i’m fine,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t catch on. you could sense carl's suspicion, but he chose to remain silent after replying with an “ok.”

upon finally arriving in alexandria, you went directly to your house without speaking to either carl or siddiq. you hurried upstairs to your bathroom, where you removed your flannel to reveal blood seeping through the right side of your light brown shirt. removing your shirt, you inspected it and discovered a bite mark. looking at your abdomen through the mirror, you realized the dreadful truth: you had been bitten.

“fuck.”

you began to panic, fully aware of what needed to be done. closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and opened them again. to distract yourself, you decided to take a shower to clean up. afterward, you put clothes on, dressed and applied a bandage over the bite mark.

now, you found yourself in your room, writing letters to everyone you cared for, including carl. once you had finished, you sat on your bed and began to cry, feeling as though you had been saved for nothing. beginning to feel tired, you closed your eyes.

finally waking up, you noticed it was pitch black outside. surely, you hadn't slept that long... or perhaps it was just a side effect of the bite. trying not to think about it, you started to hear commotion outside and a sudden knock at your door. believing that an enemy had somehow gotten in, you grabbed an axe that you kept in your room for protection. the door suddenly swung open, revealing carl standing there. “carl? what the hell is happening out there?” you ask, your worry unmistakable in your voice. “the saviors. come on, we gotta go!” he responds as he takes your hand, guiding you both out of your house.

from a distance, you began to hear negan's voice, and an idea formed in your mind. “carl, i need you to follow me,” you said as you turned to look at him. “just trust me, okay?” now, you found carl following you to the watch tower at the front of alexandria where he began to climb up with you. “no. stay here, please,” you stated as he complied with your instructions. climbing up the ladder, negan began to speak again, “okie dokie. you brought this on yourself, rick. you see, i was willing to work with you. all you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. well, now i see that you’ve got to go! scorched earth, you dick.”

“he’s not home,” you shout upon reaching the top as the saviors aim their guns at you.

“oh-ho! holy shit! everybody hold your fire, it’s y/n,” negan remarks with a chuckle. “look at you, answering the door like a big girl. i am so proud. rick’s not home, huh? well i guess he’s gonna get back to a big ol’ smokey surprise!”

“there’s families in here,” you interrupt him with a stern voice before continuing on, “kids, carl’s little sister.”

“well that shit just breaks my heart. there’s kids at the sanctuary, you must’ve seen ‘em,” he responds in a measured tone. “even had a little baby at one of the outposts. i wonder what happened to her,” he continued speaking before beginning to walk around.

after a brief moment of silence, negan began to speak again, “none of this shit’s fair, kid. hell, you know that. you had to kill your own mom. that is screwed up. we need someone in charge who’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn’t happen. oh-ho, wait! that’s me!”

“bad stuff does happen, but we can figure this out. we can stop this,” you respond with a somewhat convincing tone before negan interrupts.

“oh now you wanna talk? see rick had it that i died, no matter what. he gave my people a choice, not me. so now, we’re gonna need a new understanding: apologies, punish-“

“kill me,” you interrupt with a tone that is both desperate and heartbreaking.

before speaking, negan moves closer to you than he was before, “what did you say?”

“if you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishments, then kill me… i’m serious,” you respond, your voice beginning to slightly crack.

“you wanna die?” negan asks with a slight smirk spread across his face.

“no i don’t,” you reply as you shake your head side to side, “but i will…. it’s gonna happen. if… if me dying could stop this, if it can make things different for us, for you, for all those other kids, it’d be worth it.”

“i mean.. was this the plan?” you ask after a couple seconds of silence, “was it supposed to be this way? is this who you wanted to be?”

with a lot of commotion in the background, negan looks away from you, giving you the chance to get away. just as you're climbing down the ladder, you hear negan’s voice, “son of a bitch, y/n! was that just a play? i thought we were having a moment, you little asshole! bombs away!”

“what the hell was that?” carl asks you as you drop down to the ground. you ignore his question and proceed to take gas bombs out of your bag, handing a couple to him. understanding that this is all part of your plan, carl follows your lead.

after deploying numerous gas bombs, you and carl find your visibility severely impaired. slowly, you both make your way to the sewers. upon climbing into the sewers, your body began to feel weak, which heightened your anxiety. stumbling over your own feet, carl swiftly came to your aid, helping you to regain your balance.

“just put me down here,” you uttered in a weakened voice. “y/n?” carl expresses with concern before assisting you to sit down on the ground. kneeling beside you, carl watches intently as you slowly lift your shirt to reveal the bite mark.

“no no no, what? why didn’t you tell me?” carl asks, his eyes remaining on the bite mark, unable to believe that this is truly happening. despite the pain, you managed to give carl the most reassuring smile you could before replying, “it was bound to happen, carl.”

“bullshit.”

“no, it… it should’ve been me,” he continues speaking as he takes a seat beside you. feeling pain coursing through your body, you begin to grow weaker and weaker. your vision starts to blur, and your breathing turns into wheezing.

clearly concerned for your well-being, carl carefully lifted you and managed to navigate out of the sewers. thankfully, the saviors had ceased their bombing, and despite the surrounding fires, carl successfully brought you to a safe haven — the church. as carl was laying you down, your condition deteriorated rapidly; it felt as though you had been thrown off a cliff and subsequently run over.

“hey…. i just wanted to let you know that i got the wrong impression of you,” you spoke with a weak voice, which shattered carl's heart. “i got the wrong impression of you, too,” he responds, his voice beginning to crack. “if i knew that getting to know you would’ve helped, i would’ve done it a lot sooner,” he continues, and his words provoke a shared chuckle before you start coughing up blood.

“carl, i need you to-“

“stop it,” he interrupts you, his gaze shifting downward. after a moment, he takes a deep breath before slowly drawing his gun. cries begin to fill the church as he slowly raises the gun to your head before he spoke in a soft voice, “i wish we had more time.”

“maybe in another universe. but in this one, it was just a bitter gift.”

and with that, the gunshot echoed through your mind, bringing the pain to a final end.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #writing #angst #the walking dead fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction

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romancefranaticstay · 8 months ago

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⋆.ೃ࿔:･Ship on sea ⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 2

Captain! Hyunjin x siren!fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You swam away from the ship, feeling the drops of his tears on your body. You dived to your hiding place, where you always sat. You felt something strange in your body, something strange. Something you had never felt. After a few days you still felt a strange feeling in your stomach, this time it was a little painful.

After a few weeks your belly started to get bigger and at that moment you knew it. You carried the child of your loved one, the child made by melted love. You still remembered the day you swam away from your captain. You missed him, ohh you missed him so much. You still had his necklace glistening in the moonlight.

Your child was born and accepted into the group of the Sirens. Your father always wondered who the person was, your other half. You wanted to tell him, you wanted to tell him about the most beautiful creature on earth, but you couldn't. You couldn't roll his name off your tongue. Your baby was a boy, immediately after he was born you saw Hyunjin in his eyes. It was difficult without giving birth to him, not being able to hold his hand.

Now the boy is four years old. You love your son so much, so much. It's your little Hyunjin. You sat in the cave while your sisters played with your son. He was already a good swimmer for his age. You were resting with your eyes closed, thinking about anything and everything. Suddenly you felt a kind of hyperactive happiness. Your heart was pounding, you were suddenly wide awake. You didn't know what it was. You ignored it.

“Y/N.”

said your sister Lalisa.

'What is it now?'

"Why don't you ever talk about his father?"

"Like I said, he's unknown."

"Don't you even know who he is?"

"No, only I know who he is."

'Why can't we know?'

'Just, I prefer to keep him in my heart.'

'Okay romantic, just keep him in your heart.'

You went to Lalisa, who was rocking your son. You picked him up again.

"Ohh you little treasure."

"Little Wade."

'What? Wade? That's not his name.'

"You never gave him a name."

'Yes, I have.'

"Why don't you tell me?"

“I've said it a thousand times, his name is Hyunjin.”

“Why Hyunjin? That's not even a Siren name.'

"Because I think it's a beautiful name, and because I'm his mother."

'Maternal behavior.'

'Teenage behavior.'

"Let me be a teenager."

"Yes, so let me be a mother."

"I'm going to be a mother one day too."

"You definitely will."

"And I want to marry a beautiful man."

'Just beautiful?'

"No, that's funny too."

"And grown up."

'That too.'

Hyunjin was tossing and turning in his bed. He dreamed about you again, he dreamed that you had a child. A little child who looked exactly like him. You were in a cave, with him in your arms. You were talking to someone. He was looking at you, he tried to move towards you but he couldn't. You suddenly turned your head. Suddenly he was pulled back and he woke up again. His heart broke again and again when he dreamed about your glowing skin. Your lips that he wanted to bite. Your hands that he wanted to feel.

Tears began to sting his eyes, but he was not allowed to show them. He was not allowed to show his weak side. He looked through his binoculars, no land in sight.

'Row on!'

he was strict. Stricter than before. Since you were gone he had changed, but deep down he was the same. His crewmates were a bit scared of him, except for Jeongin. Jeongin was his son. Not really his son, but he treats him like a son. He had found him on an island, dehydrated and about to die. He took care of him and now he has become a handsome man. He was 14 when he found it. Now he is 19. You could say he has changed a lot.

"We're still 10km from land, Hyunjin." Jeongin said.

"Okay good, we're almost there." he ruffled his hair.

Hyunjin was pacing on the deck, it was night. He was standing near the same ledge you jumped off. He leaned and looked into the water. If you knew how much he missed you, your heart would shrink. Jeongin joined him.

'The water is beautiful.'

"I know, sometimes too beautiful."

They both looked at the waves.

“You go get some sleep Jeonginnie.”

"Okay dad." Jeongin hopped inside to the warmth.

After a while, Hyunjin went back inside. He entered his room and looked at his bed. So many memories, the good times, the magical moments. He locked his door and lay down on his bed. The room was quite dark. He kept thinking about you, he thought about that one night. He felt blood pumping in his cock. It turned him on. His right hand wrapped around his length. He started jerking quickly. He thought about your body, your sweaty body. He started getting faster and faster. Until he groaned. Your name slipped from his lips. He panted.

Little Hyunjin was still sleeping. You admired him from a distance. A little angel, you just wanted to hug him. He is so small and so innocent. You saw him yawn and open his beady little eyes.

“Hello treasury.”

'Ello mommy.'

His small hands clung to you. Your father had collected some food for his grandson.

'Very good food, mhmmmm.'

you said, encouraging little Hyunjin to eat it all. He smacked his little mouth.

'Yummy.'

'Very yummy, and also very healthy.'

'Yeh, vey healy.'

'No no no, not healthy, but healthy. Heal-th-y.”

'Healty.'

'Close enough.' you stroked his hair.

______________________________________________________________

You swam with your son.

"Mommy."

'Yes treasury?'

'What is tha?'

he pointed his little finger towards the land. You looked at the land.

'You want to go there?'

'Yes, yes.'

It was uninhabited you saw, so it was safe for little Hyunjin. He also needed to develop his leg strength, so it was good to go ashore. Once you felt the land, your legs started working again. Hyunjinie immediately fell gently into the sand. You smiled seeing him like this. You grabbed his little hands and lifted him up so that he was now standing on his feet. You slowly started to step back so he could step along.

'You can do it.'

His steps were small and somewhat sloppy. He fell into the sand. You saw little tears growing in his eyes.

"Ohh, treasury, don't cry."

you lifted him up and started rocking him.

"Ohh little darling of mine."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Land in sight!' Jeongin shouted.

"We're here dad."

"Okay, throw the anchor."

The anchor was thrown. Ten men remained on board, while five men began searching the island. The island was not dangerous, it was very small. Jeongin was sitting in the sand, lying on the ground.

"You stay here, I'll go explore some more."

Hyunjin started walking around the shoreline. You sat with Hyunijnie on the other side of the island. From a distance, Hyunjin saw two people. A child and a woman who seemed very familiar for a reason. He pulled out his sword just to be sure. Little Hyunjin started taking small steps towards you as you sat in the sand.

"Yes, almost, two more small steps."

He took two quick steps and fell into your arms.

"Yes, well done, you are such a smart little boy."

You were snuggling with him. Hyunjin recognized your voice. For a second he thought he was hallucinating. He dropped his sword and came closer. You felt something approaching you, you felt your heart pounding faster. You held little Hyunjin tightly. You stood up and took out your sharp teeth. You saw him, you looked into his eyes. You saw your captain standing there, your Hyunjin. You wanted to run to him, but you had a baby in your arms. Hyunjin stepped towards you until he was standing in front of you. His fingers caressed your cheek.

'Are you real?'

'I'm real.'

Tears stung both of your eyes.

"My son... I dreamed about him."

"He's real."

Hyunjinnie's eyes widened, he reached his hands out to his dad. Hyunjin picked him up, tightly in his protective arms. Tears fell into his little hair.

You hugged Hyunjin gently. Your son between you. His lips found yours. The two of you held your son. Jeongin came from a distance. He saw Hyunjin kissing a woman. Jeongin recognized you as 'the woman' he sometimes talked about. Hyunjin had described you perfectly. Your eyes opened again and you saw Jeongin standing there. You removed your lips from Hyunjin's lips.

'Who is that?' you pointed at him.

“That's my son, Jeongin.”

"You, your son... and the mother...?"

"I don't know who his mother is."

You immediately understood what was going on.

"Oww, I see."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hyunjin brought you back to the ship. The crew members stared at you, still remembering you. Hyunjin made a small bed for your son. Every day you were told how much he looked like his father. You and Jeongin also grew close. He saw you as his mother and you saw him as your son. You heard Hyunjinnie giggle. Jeongin was playing with him again.

“Careful Jeonginie.”

'Yes mom.' Y

ou were watching from a distance. On a rocking chair. Your hand on your stomach. You were pregnant again, you were three months pregnant. You couldn't really deduce what the gender was yet. It wasn't until you were 5 months old that you as Siren could sense it. Hyunjin came to you and kissed you on the cheek.

'Hello Darling.'

'Hello captain.' He placed his hand on your stomach.

'A little boy or girl.'

'Yes, strange, isn't it?'

'It is.' Your heart melted when you saw Jeongin playing with Hyunjinie. The fact that anyone could leave Jeongin behind is a mystery.

“I will never let you go again Y/N.”

"I'll never go again."

"I'll never let you go again."

You turned your face to him and kissed him softly. Jeongin covered Hyunjinnie's eyes.

“Ewww.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE END

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

@newtsbloodygf @trixiekaulitz @bbhyunjinie @wolfyychan

121 notes · View notes

the-moon-files · 7 months ago

Note

Aaaaa, hi!! I'm the anon who sent in the fairly recent ask with the Guide!Reader ideas (martial artist mention, Dehydrated Ganon, strength possibilities, Ganon not being able to escape from Guide!Reader's voice, etc)! I'm really glad that you liked my ideas so much!! 😊 I was so pleasantly surprised to see you expand on my discombobulated thoughts, haha! Thank you so much! ^w^ I loved reading them!!

I said that I made memes for the Guide!Reader/Space Orc concept, and now I shall deliver them >:D Firstly, I'm super sorry that I took so long to share these with you!! Life decided to kick me in the shins for a hot second 😭 And secondly, I made a LOT of images for this one,, Fair warning, this is going to take up a lot of space 😭 orz

But anyway!! Here are the text memes first:

Guide!Reader: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Wars: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great.

Guide!Reader: Not when you’re playing with Zelda, it’s not. She’s out here putting in words like “ephemeral” while I’m putting in “dog.”

☆

Guide!Reader: *pointing out Magic Powder* Legend, look, it’s the good kush!

Legend: …This is the Rupee Store, how good can it be?

☆

Ravio: Hi, welcome! Are you part of our Super Savers Shoppers Club?

Guide!Reader: No, I’m not.

Ravio: :D :) :| Oh.

☆

Legend, looking into a banged-up Water Temple: …It’s trash.

☆

Time, whenever Guide!Reader uses modern slang: We need IRL subtitles. What are you even saying.

☆

Guide!Reader: My Furby died in my arms when I was a child.

Hyrule, has no clue what a Furby is: I’m so sorry for your loss.

Guide!Reader: It wasn’t a loss. I had never felt more like a god.

☆

The Chain: *getting told off by Time*

Guide!Reader in the back: …

Guide!Reader: *starts playing the ukulele* 👁👄👁 🎸

Time: 🧍

☆

Four, talking about Guide!Reader: So, I’m interested in someone…

Dot: :D Oooh! What do they look like?

Four: *slow realisation*

Four: I don’t know

Dot: Wh

Dot: What do you mean you don’t know?

☆

Guide!Reader/Ganon, about hearing Guide!Reader every dang game: The universe has a sense of humour, and I respect the commitment to the bit, but girl please.

☆

Guide!Reader, to Link once they reunite with the Chain: Now… *puts hand on his shoulder* We’re back on our bullsh*t.

☆

Guide!Reader and Wild, meeting Sidon for the first time:

Guide!Reader: …Would.

Wild: Would what?

Guide!Reader:

Wild: (Name)? Would what?

☆

Wind: When you become famous you’re called a legend because your leg ends.

Guide!Reader: What?

Wind: Your leg. It ends.

Guide!Reader: I’m not a linguist, but I think you’ve got it wrong.

Wind: Are you saying your leg doesn’t end?

Guide!Reader: I mean, at some point it does, yes.

Wind: Then what’s the problem?

☆

The Chain, waking up at dawn to get ready:

Guide!Reader and Sky, just trying to process being alive:

☆

Guide!Reader/Time: You need to get out of bed faster than this.

Sky, struggling: I’m giving it all he’s got, boss

☆

Guide!Reader at Ganon: Your anger amuses me. Please don’t find inner peace. Please.

☆

Guide!Reader, playing through LoZ game: *at an annoying NPC* Let me ask you a very fair question. What do you do successfully? Quickly. :|

Link, trying not to laugh:

☆

Hyrule, probably: I hate it when a recipe tells me to add two cups of onions. They don’t come in cups. They come in onions.

Guide!Reader, head in hands: Please

☆

Hyrule/Twilight, looking at two NPCs: Are they lovers?

Guide!Reader, who knows the lore: Worse.

☆

The Chain, enjoying Guide!Reader’s affections:

Legend: 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

☆

Legend, defending himself from the “You like him” allegations from Wind: 🤸🤸🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

And now, onto the images- I hope you don't think the sheer amount of these memes is too excessive or anything!! 😭 /gen

Aaa and that's all the memes I've got! I hope you like them,,! orz

I'm also still pretty new to Tumblr, so I'm sorry if the format looks a bit weird,,

Oh, but also?? That last point you mentioned in your most recent post about the cultural differences between humans and Hylians on physical affection/touch?? I am VERY excited to see that,, 👀 👉👈

U HAVE NO IDEA HOW IN LOVE W/UR BRAIN I AM RN

IM SO FUCKING ECSTATIC TO SEE THESE >>> ANYTHING IVE EVER WRITTEN U MADE MEMES??? FOR MY BS?????? DAOHGHOAKJSALKGFS;NDFKNDNFKJBDBFLN;

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

BLESS YOU, BEHEAMOTH SCREAMOTH MY BELOVED <3333

HAVE THAT HYLIANS V. HUMANS AFFECTION CULTURE POST HERE, THE ONLY PAYMENT I CAN THINK OF FOR THIS 😩😩 🛐 🛐 🛐

I LIED ITS TOO LONG, ITS GONNA BE A SEPERATE POST COME BACK AND PLS READ IT AS PAYMENT (but dont read the nsft/w if ur a minor)

BRO u got all the energy, and the dynamics i was pushing ilysm 🥺🫶

like the Hyrule = beloved agenda ive been pushing, bc i need more underrep links content, the way u carried the ganon eternally getting haunted by guide reader voice?? 10/10 ahdsfkhadl

AND WIND’S CONSTANT ENERGY OF A YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKIN U DEAD IN THE EYE LIKE “u kiss the homie (singular not even plural) goodnight?? Brother, that’s GAEY.”

u have no idea what this means to me, the impact, the understanding u have to have of my bs to make these, and how many posts youve read of mine?? im so sorry for ur loss w/my rough writing lmao

thats how you know youve made it tbh is if someone makes memes of smth u made, anyway day brightened, complexion clear, depression medicated, by this post

I HOPE BOTH SIDES OF UR PILLOW ARE COLD, UR PETS CUDDLE U EXTRA, U GET ALL THE GRADES/GOOD WORK SHIFTS U NEED

Peace out my beloved <3,

🌙

#u know u made it when the memes come #i feel legit honored #like #id like to thank my hands for typing for me #my brain for finally cooperating #and my adhd for being managed by a pomodoro timer #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #linked universe reader #lu x male reader #male reader #link x reader #loz link x reader #linked universe male reader #moon chats #starry submissions #my tag for when ppl give me incredible gifts <33 🥺🥺

104 notes · View notes

archived-daydreams · 2 years ago

Text

— Move your body, darling.

Summary: You’ve started working out, and your boyfriend encourages you.

Characters: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Arataki Itto x gender neutral reader.

Word count: 3.2k.

Tags: fluff, slight crack, suggestive (allusions at doing the deed in Kaeya’s but nothing ex.plicit), soft and supportive boyfriends.

Author’s note: A little something for my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 I hope you like it, love !

Reblog to support your favorite authors ! It helps more than likes.

SCARAMOUCHE

Pretends he doesn’t care, letting slip some comments about how “foolish humans are to believe they can get stronger like that”.

In reality, he’s probably one of the most (if not the most) supportive of this bunch.

Need anything afterwards? He’ll bring it to you, no matter how much he grumbles. And no, don’t try to stop him, because “you are clearly not in the right conditions to do it yourself”. His words not mine, by the way.

Did you drink enough water? Or fruit juice? Or something cold after your work out? You better, he “threatens”, but honestly, he’s happy to prepare it for you (even if he pouts like a grumpy cat).

The afternoon sun is scorching as you keep count of the times you’ve folded and unfolded your legs.

Up, and down, up and down, and up, and down again. Pause. Repeat.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but the idea of getting into shape and strengthening your body crossed your mind a few days ago.

Was it to be able to beat your boyfriend for once in sparring?

That would be unrealistic, thinking on it, considering how he went to godhood and back, and was reborn from his own fall from grace.

Pehaps it was to actually prove to him, that no, not all humans are so ephemeral and frail as he deems them to be.

Yes, that definitely makes more sense.

And maybe, somewhere inside of you, you just want to be a little stronger, because as attractive as Scaramouche looks obliterating enemies, you know how heavy your hypothetic hurt and loss hang over him.

So, with that thought spurring you on, you get back to your workout, some of the energy you’re expending slightly recovered with this re-discovered motivation.

Unaware to you, a pair of vibrant violet eyes have been watching you for a while. The smile painted on his porcelain-like features speaking the words his eyes conceal behind the curtain of dusk that is his hair.

Leaning against the wall and with arms crossed over his chest, the wanderer decides he can indulge for a little longer in the sight of you.

That is, until a familiar child-like voice interrupts him.

“Oh, so they are the one you cherish!”

His cheeks dye in the color of Zaytun peaches at that statement, his figure leaning off the wall in a flurry.

“Shhh, Lesser Lord Kusanali, please not now!” He whisper-shouts.

Nahida gives him a closed eyed smile, as if she hadn’t completely gotten through his practiced haughty facade.

Then, her inquisitive viridian eyes flit to you and to the ex-harbinger again.

“You know, it’s okay to show them your support. They’ll appreciate it, I’m sure!” She encourages him. “It’s the same as when you cultivate flowers.” She gestures with her small hands. “No colorful petal can truly bloom without love, in the same way no fruit will ripen without sun or water.”

And Scaramouche isn’t sure if it’s because of his mentor’s wise words, or because you look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration; but next thing he knows, he’s walking towards you with a bottle of Harra fruit juice in hand.

“When will you learn to take care?” Your wanderer scolds, at the same time his cheeks mirror the warm rays of the low sun in the horizon.

ALBEDO

Oh, he’s smooth. Like, he doesn’t even have to try to make you flustered.

And the best thing is, sometimes (when he wants to, that is) he looks innocent while at it, because he truly cares and means well.

Rest assured, once you either tell him you want to exercise or he finds out, the chief alchemist is getting his hands on every fitness book he can find.

Albedo will come up with a full training program tailored to your needs and goals in a matter of a few hours.

He’s very supportive and reassuring but please, don’t let him get ideas for his experiments, unless you want to receive (affectionate or not so affectionate) complaints from a certain blond traveler, namely, his frequent test subject.

“Fascinating,” Your lover muses, a huge manual on physiology of the human body held in between his hands. “According to this study, Dragonspine reunites all the ideal conditions to make your training more demanding, which will result in it being all the more effective…”

You can’t help but let out a giggle at how immersed into this Albedo seems to be. Sure, you did mention to him you’d like to do some physical conditioning to perform more efficiently in combat, but you didn’t intend to be subjected to a rigorous training program.

“Bedo, dear.” You begin, sitting across from him. “You don’t need to plan such a complicated schedule.” Your hand finds his over the table.

His skin is cold to the touch, yet it is not an unpleasant sensation. It always reminded you of the morning dew over the Cecilias at Snarsnatch Cliff.

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand you continue. “I just want to exercise a little bit more than what my usual commissions require, nothing too harsh.” You finish, softly, a tender smile etched on those lips that have warmed Albedo’s cold nights many a time.

“I know that, dearest.” He says, his fingers slotting in between yours. They always fitted perfectly, as if your hands entwined were the last two puzzles pieces containing the mysteries of this world the Chalk Prince yearns to solve.

“But, the cold climate and altitude here will make your daily commissions feel like a walk in the park.” He continues, his free hand dangerously traveling to your waist and down, and down, until it stops at the small of your back. “Wouldn’t you agree, my love?” Albedo questions, that devious smirk you can’t resist appearing on his face like fresh pink strokes of watercolor.

“Oh?” You return his grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, playing with the tips of his icy blond hair. “Is that really it?” You tease, your fingertips grazing the star shaped mark on his neck. “Or is my prince eager to spend more time with me?”

“I won’t lie to you.” The alchemist answers, those cerulean eyes of his gleaming mischievously, akin to late stars in the dawn, before leaning in to close the distance between your lips.

You guess this might as well count as a workout session, with how wildly your heart is beating.

XIAO

Sweet baby Xiao, who is probably going to need more reassurance than you.

Why are you suddenly putting your body through such efforts? Are you going to leave him? Is he no longer useful enough to protect you?

Please, please, let him know it has nothing to do with it. Xiao’s gone through so much both physical and emotional pain, he doesn’t understand why you would willingly exhaust yourself like this.

You’ll probably have to sit him down and patiently explain how some moderate exercise can help you feel more energized and less tired on your day to day activities.

Once he understands, however, he’s very, very supportive!

Will always keep an eye on you, making sure you don’t overexert or stay out too late practicing; carries you back to Wangshuu Inn if you overdid it and is always nearby keeping any monsters at bay.

“Working out?” The adeptus repeats, a frown creasing his forehead, his lips forming an all too adorable pout. “Are you in danger? Is anyone after you?” Xiao asks, his golden orbs widening, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“No, Xiao, it’s nothing like that, my love.” You reassure him, one of your hands reaching out to cup his cheek. “I just want to get stronger, you know? So that I can be better in battle and feel more energized.

Battle. As much as Xiao knows you can hold your own in a fight and trusts your skill, the yaksha doesn’t like the sound of that word, even less coming from your lips.

You shouldn’t have to worry about battles or fights, he vowed to protect you; he deems himself no more than a tool to keep you safe, the weapon that slays any unfortunate who dares harm you.

Do you not need him anymore? Is the question that lingers on his mind and that he can’t bring himself to ask.

Used to your yaksha’s mannerisms, however, you can sense his discomfort.

For someone who claims to deal in bloodbath and death, you’ve come to learn Xiao is about one of the most sensitive and gentle people you could meet.

“Xiao? Does this idea upset you?” You try, taking one of his hands in both of yours, removing his glove to reveal scarred yet tender skin, and sharp claws that hold you with the softness of qingxin and glaze lily petals.

“Maybe…” the conqueror of demons nods, his gaze cast downwards. “Do you…” he hesitates, the prospect of you confirming his deepest fears more painful than the karma he shoulders. “Do you… not need my protection anymore?” He finally manages to ask.

“Oh, Xiao…” With care, you hold his face in both your palms, guiding his sunlit honey eyes back to yours. “Of course I need you. I love you, Xiao.” You whisper, your tone delicate, as if any disturbance or too loud syllable could pop and shatter the little bubble encasing the both of you. “Me exercising and practicing more will not mean I’ll ever stop loving and needing you, baby.” You plant the most tender kiss he’s ever felt on the diamond shaped mark on his temple.

And even though still concerned for your safety and wellbeing, the vigilant yaksha’s heart has been soothed by the floral breeze of your affections tonight.

From that day onwards, it wasn’t rare to see a certain adeptus scanning Guili Plains more exhaustively than usual, especially when a dedicated fighter found themselves mastering the art of their weapon.

CHILDE

Flirty and competitive little shit (affectionate) but he’s actually helpful.

Will take any chance he can get to one up on you. Don’t hold it against him, though, he’s just childish (pun intended), and loves your pouty expressions a little too much.

Finds it so attractive when your breath is labored, yet you still keep going. That sight alone, truly ignites something in him, his usually dull ocean eyes reflecting a myriad of iridescent lights in all the shades that compose you; he feels the need to kiss you and become the cause you’re breathless and… (I’ll stop here before we enter spicy territory, but you get it).

Very caring. Ajax is not new to taking care of people, he has a big family, after all. And as much as he is quite the reckless adrenaline junkie, he doesn’t want you doing anything extreme or pushing yourself to your limits (he pushes you to the limit enough as it is, in all aspects ;).

You think Ajax’s insanity is starting to rub on you.

Sure, you’d like to get more fit and strong, but did you really have to grab your boyfriend’s bow for your first practice?

You sigh, your shoulders already sore from drawing the big bow again and again.

But as they say, no pain, no gain.

At least you are grateful for Polar Star’s soft and supple handle, it keeps your hands (mostly) free from blistering.

You ready yourself, a look of pure concentration on your eyes, set on the target. You aim for the bull’s eye, drawing your elbow backwards, in a way that you hope resembles how Childe does it in battle.

You can picture the arrow’s trajectory, its tip infused in the vibrant hue of your vision, a perfect arch cutting through the skies above in a parable of elemental energy set for a single pinpoint destination.

You take a deep breath.

In, and out.

Then…

An all too familiar (and quite obnoxious, right now) chuckle makes your focus dissipate, akin to ocean waves lapping at the shore, dragging sandy architecture and paintings into lightless depths.

“And just what,” You begin, turning around, deep frown creasing your eyebrows. “Do you find so funny, Tartaglia?” You point the index finger not holding his bow at his chest. “Care to tell me?” You spat, wisps of venomous smoke stoked by your fiery annoyance tainting the edges of your voice.

Childe stands there, looking at you like the idiot in love he is, dumb dopey smile plastered on his unfairly kissable lips.

“Sorry, you’re so cute, sweetheart.” He manages in between chuckles.

You want to smack him over the head with his own bow, but you contain yourself: you really don’t want his weapon to get damaged, after all.

Instead, you settle for punching him on the arm, with less malice than your pout suggests.

“Do you want to see how cute I’ll look after i shoot an arrow through that empty head of yours, Childe?” You retort, arms crossed over your chest.

“Heh, I’d like to see you try, darling. Don’t you think I can’t dodge.”

At his answer, you throw your hands into the air, exasperated.

And, even though Ajax loves teasing you and sparring with you, he doesn’t really like making you angry, especially when you’re trying hard.

“But instead of that,” the harbinger starts, taking the bow from your hands. “How about I help you? You know, weapons are really personal things, what works for me, might not work well for you or another person.”

He likes how your eyes sparkle at his suggestion, your undivided attention prompting the ginger to continue.

“It’s true we can master any kind of weapon, but you need the right one for you, no matter which type you choose.”

The warrior’s calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“So, how about finding the right bow for you? Sound good?”

“Fine…” You breathe, completely lost in the way the last rays of sunshine catch in the deep lakes of his gaze. It is not a sight you get to witness often, and you treasure it immensely.

“Alright!” Your boyfriend nods, picking you up, bridal style, relishing in your squeals and giggles as you both walk into the sunset.

KAEYA

Flirty little shit number 2, except instead of being helpful, he ends up distracting you more than anything.

He makes up for it in support, though. Granted, he teases you a lot, but he’s also your number one cheerleader.

Very touchy and affectionate, will not pass up any chance to leave a kiss here and there, or hold onto your waist.

Loves joining you in your workout sessions and matching outfits with you.

Very vocal, Kaeya compliments you a lot and always has words of encouragement to offer, no matter how completely exhausted or weak you feel.

You swear this is unfair.

He is being unfair.

He knows all too well what he’s doing and he must have had this planned from the moment he offered to help you with your sit-ups session.

“How about I hold your legs in place, my darling?” The cavalry captain suggested in an all too enticing and sultry tone. “Won’t that way be easier for you?”

And of course, you had to go and agree.

Like the fool for him that you are.

So now, you have to have his tempting lips practically shoved in your face every single time you do a sit-up.

You reap what you sow, as the saying goes, you chide yourself internally.

But oh, he’s so not helping at all. Pouting like that every time he keeps count, icy eyes half lidded, the frozen galaxies in them beckoning you closer to his presence.

“And fifty!” Kaeya finally exclaims, when you do the last one of the planned exercises for today. “You did great, my sweet.” The cavalry captain smiles, innocently, as if he wasn’t the main reason your face feels like it’s on fire right now.

“Why, thanks.” You reply, rather bluntly, uncapping the water bottle he just handed to you. At least you are grateful he had the decency to cool it with his vision beforehand. Throwing your head back, you take a long sip. Then:

“You volunteered to help and yet, you’re aware you didn’t make this easy in the slightest, aren’t you?” You accuse.

“My, whatever could you mean, hm?” Your boyfriend taunts, two slender fingers holding your chin in between them. “Or is my precious partner in need of some affection?”

“Oh you…” You whisper, the warmth in your heart overpowering how unnerved your knight makes you feel sometimes.

“Yes, my love?” That look of feigned innocence again.

You huff, defeated. But the smile tugging at the corner of your lips makes it quite obvious you are, indeed, very much needy for his touches and kisses.

Let’s just say, from the instant Kaeya’s hands found your hips up until the moment you’d find yourself laying down in his idyllic embrace, you got an extra work out session.

ARATAKI ITTO

Very supportive, but for the love of the archons, don’t ever let him join you.

Seriously, Itto is all heart and good intentions, but sometimes he doesn’t realize his own strength.

What to him feels like just some stretches, it might be for you the equivalent of running a marathon with a 10 kilogram heavy backpack on.

Practically worships you and the ground you walk on, though. He’s your biggest hype-man.

The trembling on your arms intensifies as you reach the end of your training session.

You hope Katheryne doesn’t have any too difficult commissions for you in store tomorrow: right now, you doubt you’ll be able to hold your weapon steadily.

You are proud of yourself for reaching your goal today, a gentle, albeit tired, smile making it to your sweaty features as you finish with some meditation and stretches.

The inazuman coast is so serene at this time of day, with the sun dipping behind the horizon, beams of purple and crimson striping the dusk sky.

A sigh escapes your lips, for this peace is always short lived. You wouldn’t have it any other way, however, you love your loud and boisterous oni too much for that.

A few more instants of tranquility pass, the late sunshine fading into luminous constellations riding in the faraway horizon, the crescent moon smiling down at two figures approaching your location.

“Boss! Please! Be quieter, now! It’s late and you can’t disturb the citizens at this hour.”

A knowing smile mimics that of the milky crescent lighting up the indigo infinity above you. You really admire your friend Shinobu’s patience.

“But Shinobu! [Y/n] will be so proud of me when I tell them about how the One and Oni Itto was proclaimed supreme king of the Great All-around Arataki Onikabuto and TCG Championship!”

The girl pinches the bridge of her nose, having had enough of her boss’s antics.

As soon as he spots you, Itto starts waving his big hands energetically, calling your name repeatedly, to Shinobu’s chagrin.

“Itto!” You run to his side, weakly hugging his broad torso. “Why don’t you tell me about today as we walk back home?” You propose, talking in a low voice.

His eyes sparkle excitedly. Sometimes, he reminds you of an adorable puppy; for someone over six feet tall, your oni boyfriend really is sweet.

“But… can I ask you to carry me, please?” You look away, slightly flustered. “Push ups are still a little hard for me.”

That night, the deputy leader of the Arataki Gang had a relaxed night, as she watched the retreating figures of an oni and his lover animatedly recounting the day’s many events.

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midnghtprentiss · 2 years ago

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dating emily prentiss - headcons

pairing: ssa emily prentiss x pediatrician!femreader

warnings: fluff content, sugestive smut, cm horrors (children abuse), emily being a softie

no descriptions of hair, skin color, body shape

i'm thinking about making this idea a series. what you guys think?

You meet Emily for the first time because of Hotch. She drove him and Jack to your office in the middle of the night 'cause the poor child had a bad fever. She wasn't expecting to find you. Pink scrub with flowers and bees all over it, white shoes and a funny tiara in your hair.

"Dr. Y/L/N. This is my coworker Emily, she drove us here." You nod, taking a quick glance at her.

"Nice to meet you, Emily. Shall we go Jack?"

That was the first time she was hypnotized by a woman like you. How you treated Hotch and especially Jack. She wouldn't mind spending hours watching you work.

The second time she saw you was during a case. They were rescuing abused children and the pediatrician the BAU chose was you. Reid, Morgan and Emily stayed at the clinic while you did your best to save those children.

"Excuse me. My team stabilized four of the seven children, they're severely dehydrated and malnourished. With the right work and care everything will be alright." You lead them to the rooms. "If you're going to make them talk, be gentle and calm. No loud voices and movements. Remember, these children just experienced a lifetime trauma. If you need me I'll be in the other room."

"Yes ma'am." Emily answered quickly and received a smirk from Morgan.

"Ask her out, Prentiss, don't be so shy."

"That's inappropriate Derek, we are working."

She asked you out after the case was over. She stopped by at your work to thank you for your help and asked if you wanted to have a coffee next time you're free.

You learned that Emily was addicted to coffee, that she loves fudge brownies and most of her clothes have cat hair. You were so entertained by the way she rambled and how her brown eyes sparkled when she got excited. She laughed at your 'no sex on the first date' — you failed so bad. When both of you noticed you were breathing heavily in Emily's car.

"I don't know why that's funny. This rule used to work every time." You gave her a look.

"I'm just too hot for this waiting thing and you weren't even complaining thirty minutes ago!"

The months were passing and you two got very involved. Phone calls when she's away, dinner at her or your place, waking up tangled in the sheets. The schedules work just fine, the cases were longer like your shifts. There wasn't pressure on labeling the relationship that was building, but was serious. This woman had you wrapped around her finger.

Long phone calls or voicemails when she's at her hotel room.

"Hey, I can't even imagine how rough the shift is today. The case is evolving to the right direction, we got different clues today and are close to catching the unsub. I saw a bookstore next to the precinct with the book you told me about, so I bought it to discuss with you on the next date. Reid said the book is fantastic and he told me a lot of curiosities about the author, can't wait to tell you everything. Anyway, call me when you can. I miss you."

She surprises you with your favorite food when she picks you up at work. You commented that you wanted to eat sushi and the next day she showed up with sushi just for you. Or when you slept at hers she makes your favorite breakfast (with Rossi on the phone just to make sure she's not giving you food poisoning).

Emily is a morning person, you're not. Waking up with this woman looking like a golden retriever, walking around, rambling and trying to make you wake up.

"You know Ems, if you're doing this to get into my panties you are not getting. Let me sleep."

"It's a beautiful day, sugar. Let 's go!" She comes closer, stroking your messy hair.

"I hate you so much." You looked at her with the most evil smirk ever.

When she started to think about the idea of marriage, kids and white picket fence she almost had a stroke. She changed her whole life plan since she met you. The idea of a love that is so light and free wasn't even a real thing in her head. The greatest part of her day was talking to you, thinking of you. You were the reason she was more caucareful at the field, she was being more open about her feelings to her closest friends.

Girls night!!!!!!! Penelope and you bond right away. She was so excited to see the girl that was making Emily look like a love pudding.

"You are so made for each other, look at that! The way she looks at you!"

"Penny, calm down!" You drunkenly laugh at her and pass your arm around your girlfriend.

"I think we should get shots for this moment. Y/N help me!" You give Emily a kiss on the cheek and follow Penelope.

"How do you feel?" J.J asked Emily that answer with the brightest smile.

"I am in love with that woman and it hurts that she has no idea of how much it is."

"She feels the same way, the lovesick gave. I'm happy you found your half."

"I bought a ring." Dead silence between them.

"What? Oh my God!"

"Keep this down, ok? I'm waiting for the right moment and right now it's not. Hotch went with me and yeah, that's it."

You slowly moved with Emily and started to have a life together. You share bills, you do chores together, buy things together. Even adopted another cat. Life was amazing, couldn't be better. Until the day she proposed.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss blurb #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss one shot #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentis x pediatrician reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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salternateunreality2 · 16 days ago

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The boys when they get sick

Angeal: insists he's fine until it really kicks in, then groans the biggest, baddest, saddest, daddest groans known to man for the next week.

Genesis hires a nurse for him because he refuses to get anywhere near that mess. Angeal feels this is unnecessary, but can't find the energy to argue and lets it happen so as to at least not waste the help. Genesis also offers to read him to sleep OVER THE PHONE, HEWLEY.

He's mega depressed the whole time and rots more than he might if this wasn't how his father had died.

Sephiroth shows up with a vat of specially formulated cafeteria slop because he read that friends bring each other healing soup when they're sick. Angeal thanks him and muscles through eating as much as he can, even though it is vile and he feels queasy. Sephiroth goes away proud of himself for nailing this social interaction.

Zack bounces over, a little nervous, a little too enthusiastic, a little too chatty...but he notices the cafeteria slop, replaces it with what his mom coached him to make over the phone, and promises Angeal the slop will not go to waste. He secretly feeds it to his pet wererats in the slums.

Genesis: it's a national emergency and Angeal has to work from home to tend to him.

Genesis requires fluffed pillows, hand holding, and babying to a truly epic degree. Angeal indulges him because he was there during Gen's sickly childhood: during the scarlet fever that almost killed him, the pneumonia that almost destroyed his lungs, the bug that nearly dehydrated him to death, and many other ailments that always hit little Gen extra hard.

Sephiroth stops by with his vat of slop and Genesis informs him he is kind, but Genesis is too ill to partake at this moment; perhaps later if the spectre of death ceases to whisper his name. Sephiroth asks if the spectre ever calls Genesis her child and Angeal and Genesis raise some eyebrows.

Zack was proactively banned from the premises at the first sniffle, so he sends his trooper friend with Mama Fair's soup and orders to accidentally spill or steal any cafeteria slop. Cloud doesn't know how to act around all these firsts, so he waits until midnight, breaks into the apartment, removes the slop, and leaves the soup. Zack is proud and unsurprised at his cunning, and Angeal is bewildered.

Angeal doesn't question it too hard--cafeteria slop is a health hazard, and if it's gone, it's gone. Plus, he recognizes Mrs. Fair's handiwork and makes a mental note to lecture Zack later and check in on his friendships with the Turks.

Sephiroth: zombie mode.

He's not sick. Being sick would mean reporting to Hojo. He is Not. Sick.

He's fine.

Everything is fine.

Angeal: Sephiroth, why are you telling my ficus that you are healthy?

Sephiroth, still talking to the plant: Sephiroth is fully operational. All systems fucktioning. Go. No maintenance required. Mission reedy.

Angeal: Ok, new mission: sleep on Angeal's couch until you can focus both eyes at the same time.

Sephiroth, still talking to the plant: Mission accepted, thank you Mr. President. *Passes out on the couch for 19 hours, wakes up refreshed*

Zack: makes it everyone's problem, but insists he'll be fine and everyone should stay away. While he sits on the SOLDIER break room couch wrapped in blankets and sniffling up a storm.

It's fine, Angeal, you don't have to make him your super special soup that only you can make because he's so sad and sick. 🥺

Don't worry about it, Sephiroth, the slop can be given to hungry pets in the slums, Zack's just a little too tired right now. 🥺

Genesis, it is a little dramatic to wear a full hazmat suit. Zack's sitting in a public space, not your private office. 😒

Yeah Cloud, that's the best fucking popsicle ever, but don't get too close, Zack might be contagious (after Zack hugs him). 🥹

Cloud: doesn't say a damn thing.

Muscles through infantry work until he passes out and is thrown in medical until he can stand again, then sent out until he passes out a second time.

Zack finds out later and moves heaven, earth, Angeal, Genesis, and Sephiroth to ask some hard questions about treatment of the infantry staff while force-feeding Cloud soup.

Genesis wants to know why clearly contagious troopers are allowed out of isolation while still clearly contagious. Angeal wants to know why the company is wasting human resources instead of caring for them to prevent rust, dust, and plague. Sephiroth wants to know if Heidegger would like to tour the barracks and discuss things over a hearty bowl of slop.

#ff7 #cloud strife #sephiroth #zack fair #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley

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rokishimizu4 · 4 months ago

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Martian Manhunter babysits some kidnapped children (but not really)

(I’ve decided that I’m gonna be finishing these headcannons and then work on my BatFam story. I have figured everything else out, surprisingly since I took Sudafed for my cold and now I’m wired as fuck)

To say that nothing surprised J’onn anymore since his time on Earth, it would be a lie and a joke that he would not find funny at all.

Honestly, he has no idea how he found the villains before anyone else. Though the slight smell of chocolate might of helped, that again the thoughts of the re-kidnapped children.

”Si, bella. Your papi is going to be fine. Our little mother hen can fix anything.” A strange male voice is what J’onn follows (invisible to the naked eye) until he reaches a nice (for Gotham) two story sweet shop with a small crew of Hispanic and Italian women and men working around the strange group, that certainly doesn’t belong there.

J’onn floats to the second floor and comes face to face with a goopy child?, that was slowly eating a plate of chocolate chip cookies. The thing freezes mid bite and stares at J’onn for a few seconds, before motioning to the others in the small room.

”Ah, come in ospite maschio (Male guest?)” I was just telling the little bambino that our mother hen is fixing up their papa as we speak and then they can answer your questions.” A man dressed in a black suit and pants gives J’onn a fanged smile, and J’onn becomes interested in how they knew he was coming.

But his attention switches to the situation at hand as the two children, twins-one boy and one girl, rush over to him (which he just noticed that he became visible without him noticing) and look up at him with sparkles in their brown eyes.

”You’re the Manhunter! You’re our favorite superhero!! Daddy says that he meet you once when he was rushing to the hospital cause our mama was having us!” The twins throw up their hands in excitement, and J’onn has a small realization that this is what Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash must feel every time someone asks for an autograph or a picture.

J’onn keeps his eyes on the twins while his mind focuses on the situation at hand, but he can find no malicious thoughts or auras around these strange villains. Two of which returns with some plates full of different tacos, chips, dips, and sweets.

J’onn only steps away for a brief moment to inform the JL that he has found the kidnapped father and twins, and that he has the situation under control, even allowing the kids to talk over the coms to Superman and Wonderwoman. (Both of which shows up a few moments later, and informs J’onn that Batman and Green Arrow are taking over the case with the woman)

Wonder Woman can only get the children to grab onto her lasso of truth, as everyone else leaves the room to give them privacy, and learns that the twins father managed to get into contact with ‘Copper Spider’, the ‘mother hen of the group’, to rescue them from the bad woman.

The children tell her that their daddy promised that if anything happened to him, that they would need to trust a man of ice and a red wolf and follow them.

She tries to get more out of the children, but they can’t give her anything else, and soon J’onn and Superman return with the twin’s father, safe but a bit dehydrated (and no longer wanting to drink anything alcoholic again).

All three Superheroes tries to find the ‘Villain’ group, or anyone else in the shop, only to realize that it was completely abandoned and the ‘people’ were only an illusion.

The Superheroes and small family quickly return to Gotham, checks the father into a hospital (Paid for by Bruce Wayne of course) and J’onn sets out to be the twin’s babysitter until their father fully recovers.

He gives the Gotham City police his statement, but he does not need his powers to know that the cops are likely not to press charges. And if they did, they would have the JL to answer to.

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 1 year ago

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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SUPEERR sorry for the late update! i went through a hellish week but I really wanted to go on with the story 😭 i wrote down the setting so the ending’s kinda set in stone, so buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourself for a ride.

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker [CAN THE OTHERS REDO THEIR NAMES I CANT FIND YALLS ACCOUNTS IM SCARED OF TAGGING THE WRONG PEOPLE IM SO SO SORRY IM NEW TO THIS]

⚠️ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ PLOTTTTT. This chapter onward will mark the beginning of heavy themes. There will be mentions of death, manipulation, discussion of political issues, and profane language. Discretion is advised.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

And when the rain stopped, you two were back to the same scene, but with your hand on his sleeve.

You and Miles walked down the same Brooklyn road, your fingers pinching the corner of his jacket while he led your bike on with his free hand. Your shoes crunched against the autumn leaves, each step like a snapping twig, marking your each step.

Even at its darkest, Brooklyn never slept along with its sisters. The bright windows, the music playing from the underground bars, and the other couples maneuvering through the night like mice on the run. Still, everything seemed lazier and slower— and you didn’t know if it was just Miles or the atmosphere in general. Miles rambled on and on about his childhood show, going on about how his seven-year-old-self thought olives would be the greatest thing to snack on after seeing Jerry pine after it so much, and how after plopping it into his mouth changed the entire course of his life.

“Ever since then, I never ate another goddamn olive for the rest of my damn life.”

You laugh at his dramatics, at the way he shakes his head, but despite the dramatic way he moved, Miles never shook the arm your hand was clinging onto— you needed it more than his story-telling.

“I mean, olives do look like grapes, so I kinda understand the confusion.”

“That’s the biggest foul, really: that olives look like grapes.”

“It is kinda one hell of a foul. Mine’s the fact that raisins also look like grapes.”

And the image pops in his mind like a bubble. “… Jesus. Why the hell does everything look like grapes?”

“Ionno.” You shrug. “Same thing can be said about your head, though.”

He feigns offense, parting his mouth into an ‘o’ while leaning back. “Stop projecting your grapefruit-lookin’ ass.” Miles shoots back, earning a sharp swat from you. “Fucker, you’re the one built like a bamboo shoot.”

"You're the one talkin taller than your own height, you lil, dehydrated, un-sunned potted plant lookin' ass."

You gawk at the full-blown insult, earning nothing but a guffaw from Miles who shook his head.

"I'm just kidding, my girl, m'just kidding." He swiftly pulls you closer, pulling you in with his hand over your shoulders. "You know I'm just playin' with you, ma, you're the prettiest in my eyes." The way he sweetly coos tugs at your heartstrings, your tiny giggles muffled while he sways you around.

"Apology accepted," You snicker. "Riley Freeman.”

“… Future child bride.”

“Future enemy of the state.”

“Thas why you daddy don’t want’chu.”

“At least I got a daddy.”

And the squabble just went on and on.

Tiny jabs of flirting disguised as well-crafted insults, and subtle touches concealed as playful punches. The two of you were crazy in the sort of way that only the two of you can drive each other insane.

Ironically, you loved these sorts of moments with him— just two people simpering down the streets in good ol' New York. But in the back of your mind, there was still that lingering guilt that endlessly knocked against your psyche, begging you to tell the truth.

But the truth wasn’t the hotel, or the life you were living. The truth was a decaying matter locked in a finely decorated cage, where everyone could smell the stench, but they instead choose to ignore it all for the sake of preserving peace.

Miles would never do that. He wouldn’t turn around and shrug his shoulders just for the sake of preserving whatever peace or comfort New York had— he would absolutely fucking riot to disturb the comfortable.

But the thing was, all you had left was that peace, and the slightest piece of your dignity scrapped up like leftovers of a meal.

“Hey, ma.” Miles snaps you out of your thoughts, earning nothing but a small hum from you.

“… Do you know anythin ‘bout about parallel universes?”

You pause for a moment, processing that question like a printer— eyes slowly traveling to meet his as if to confirm if what you heard was correct. Miles shifts a bit, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“.. What?” You airily query, brows knitted together in confusion. He laughs at the way your mouth hung like a lost toddler. “Parallel universes? Ionno, I just heard ‘bout it from my dorm mate.” His fingers reach to scratch the nape of his neck. “Something ‘bout there being another version of us in another universe n shit like that— slight changes, maybe?”

“.. I’ve heard about it from my Physics professor, but I never really delved much into it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinkin a lot ‘bout it.”

Your nose scrunches. “But.. Why though?”

“Well,” The two of you start walking again, with the pace much slower. “It made me wonder if there’s another us in another universe.. Doin’ shit like this.” His hand gestured at the both of you, soon dropping by your side. “You n me, just walking and talking. I wonder if we also like each other in another universe.”

It sounded cheesy. Being lovers in more than one world.

But you liked the sound of it. Lovers.

“I probably hate you in every other universe.” You teasingly laughed while lightly pushing him away.

“Well, maybe there’s somethin’ special ‘bout me in this universe that made you fall for me.” He smoothly chimed, leaning a bit closer. You try to hold back a smile, but it still seeped in the corners of your lips.

“Ionno ‘bout that.”

His grin only widens. “You know you love me, ma.”

You stare a long stare.

I do.

“Shut up.” You mumble, pacing faster when Miles reaches out to hold your hand. “Maaaaaaaa.”

“What do you want, Miles?”

And he looks at you with those eyes of his. The kind that dragged you into this whole mess, the kind that made you crawling back in four days. Subtly, he leans down to your level, eyes in line with your own. Only then, so gently, he presses his lips against yours for a second.

"I wonder if that happens in every other universe too?"

You blink at the act, somewhat speechless.

“I’d be missin out on a lot if I don’t get to kiss you like this in every universe.”

You try to snap back at him, but you could no longer find anymore ammo to fire. Miles sets your brother’s bike aside, kicking the stand down just to take both of your hands— placing them over his shoulders.

"How about you? What do you think?" He suddenly asks. "Who would we be to each other in another world?"

There were a million thoughts blundering your mind, a sort of disarray you weren't used to— the thing was, you didn’t even know who the two of you were supposed to be to each other in this world. Everything seemed all blurry in the future, and you couldn’t even think of one for yourself.

But for once, you couldn’t help but think of what could be.

“Would you rather hear me romanticize, or would you rather hear me be realistic?” You asked of him.

Miles took a moment to think. “I think it’d be nice to hear what’chu think is romantic.”

You leaned in a bit towards his side. “You really think so? What if I end up soundin’ childish?”

Placing a gentle hand over your arm, he simply replied. “You’re young, ma. It’s okay to be a child.”

Turning more towards him, you begin to flit your fingers up toward his jaw. “Then…” Your eyes trailed away from his. “In another universe, we’re just us.” You mumble, your fingers tickling at the back of his neck.

“In another universe, I’ll be doing painting commissions at random shops to save up for Christmas. I’ll be working at that café we saw. You’ll be there, and we’ll meet up and I’ll be the one to ask for your number.” Your hand runs down his sleeve just to intertwine your fingers with his.

“What do you mean you? You can’t do nuthin, I’ll be the one asking for your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “It’s another world, Miles. We ain’t entirely sure if we’re going to be the same people.”

“You’ve got a point,” He piques. “But—“

“Let me finish.” You sigh, and immediately, he snaps his jaw shut. “… I don’t have to escape every night just to see you, nor do we have to meet exclusively every Friday and Saturday. We’ll see each other everyday, and you’ll go to my house— and my mom will make us food while going on and on about us dating, and my dad’s going to scold me to keep the door open just so he can keep an eye out on you.”

Suddenly, all the fantasies you’ve mentally illustrated for yourself every night to dwell upon came running out of your mouth.

“Maybe, I’ll have a few childhood scars, and I’ll paint my nails any color I like— I’ll get a new set monthly, and I’ll let you choose the color. We’ll walk to school together, and I’ll never miss any of your basketball games…. We’ll just be,”

Normal.

“Us.”

Realizing your rambling, you shift away a bit, somewhat embarrassed of all the stuff you’d blurted out. It’s like you could sense him trying to piece together what you’d just said. With a cautious hand, he wraps it around your waist before nuzzling his head into your hair.

"What's stopping us from being like that in this world too?"

You hold onto him a little tighter.

“… It’s getting colder these days, huh?”

Noticing your hesitance to break open, Miles decides to simply play along for now. “Yeah, it’s getting colder, ma, so you,” He softly pulls away, placing both of his hands over your cheeks. “You should start taking care of yourself or else you might start a whole new bubonic plague.”

“Why the fuck do you keep linking that to me?”

“Cause you’re a host of viral plague.”

“I’m not even sickly, damn it.” You say, while feeling an itch in your nose. “You’re just making shit up at thi— hACHOO!” You sneeze down to the ground, narrowly missing your sleeve. Miles takes a step back, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.

“… Maybe I should be a plague doctor for halloween, and you should be a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

He pictures you with comically large bags beneath your eyes, frail lips, and a white dress with its frock lost in the wind— and he’ll stand beside you, with the large black beak of the mask poking at your hair, with a large black cape flying behind his back.

“… Isn’t halloween this Saturday?” You think back with a frown. “I haven’t celebrated that in a long, long time.”

That was a lie. You’ve never celebrated halloween before.

“Huh?” He snaps in shock. “You don’t celebrate halloween?”

He watches you shrug. “It’s a kid’s thing.” Was what your Father always told you, in the same tone you were currently speaking.

“Awe man,” Miles mumbles. “… I thought you got the hint that we’re going trick or treating for our date.”

“Trick or treating?” That too, you also haven’t done. “I-Isn’t it dangerous? My mother said people would poison the candy and plant shit inside the chocolates.”

“What?” At that point, Miles was piecing together an image of your family with each passing story. “That almost never happens— who can afford poisoning children in this economy? Shit, might as well just use it on yourself with all the bills you have to pay.”

And there it goes again. The economy.

And it strikes you a bit. That guilt of being brought up pristinely uncomplicated. Privileged, as most would call it. Your problems were rather personal, never financial. Growing up, you’d been living lavishly in the comforts of your manor, never having to worry about tomorrow or next month or next year.

And, admittedly, it was unfair.

“… Miles, can I, um, discuss something with you?” You silently query, unconsciously matching your pace along with his. Miles only hums.

“Look. I don’t mean to get political, and I don’t want to sound privileged— but honestly speaking, I kinda am, and I can definitely recognize it.” You confess. “I wasn’t.. Raised in a home where we had to be conscious about money. My parents are well-off, in the way I’m sheltered as hell, but I’m not blind. I can see the city crumbling apart. My brother says that it’s all because people don’t wanna work anymore, and I never understood why.”

He raised his brows. “That’s… Well, I’m not gonna judge your brother from that alone,” Miles states, keeping in mind that he still wants to appeal to your family. “But honestly, that whole view is kinda whack. Listen, nena,” He takes a deep breath. “Imagine working your ass off nine to five— and you’re still getting paid the minimum wage. Rent is due, groceries are expensive, and you’re tired as hell, but it’s all not enough. You can’t even spend any of the money on yourself.”

“Well,” You pique. “… My father said that if the people would just stop buying irrelevant things and save up, they’d be able to live.”

Miles grimaces. “Do only the rich deserve happiness?”

Your head tilts. “Don’t they say that money can’t buy you happiness?”

He shook his head. “They say that because they’ve got the money.”

He spots the confused look on your face. Relatively, he takes your hand and further conveys. “Well, as you said, it’s a capitalist world. Only the wealthy say that because they don’t know what it’s like to be down here,” His hand points below. “In the slums, starving to damn death. Money can fix that shit. Money can fix all this, but they choose not to.”

Your mouth hung open.

“… I never thought of it that way.”

“Mhm.”

“My whole life, my parents have always chalked it up to hard work— but the city never sleeps, so it’s impossible that nobody here ain’t doing nothing.”

And it all processes through you. “Huh, it’s all.. New to me.” Naturally, your hand drags up to pluck the skin off your lips. “I never delved into that sort of issue before. My parents have always been kind of.. Sort of,”

“.. Elitist?”

“I was going to say stuck-up, but that makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda seein’ it, not gonna lie.” His clicks his tongue. “Look, ion really talk ‘bout this sort of thing much, but I like discussing these sorts of things with you— ‘cuz it’s interesting seeing how open you are to these kinds of topics, even if you were raised like that.”

You turn your head to look at Miles, and your brow twitches ever so slightly at the pang of anxiety drumming at your chest.

“We’re… Really the opposites of each other, huh?”

He hums. “But in a way, we’re still kinda similar.”

“How so?” You ask, a bit dubious of the remark. You were all this, and he was all that. You doubted any sort of similarities you two had, but Miles holds your shaking hand.

“If you and I were solely made to be opposites, we’d be nemeses by now.”

And you ponder.

How long would it take before you start hating me?

How long would it take before I stop seeing that loving gaze of yours?

How long would it take before you discover the truth?

From afar, you could already spot the Gristedes building, as though it were the portal parting your world from his. You eventually take the bike back to yourself, dragging it by the handles. As the edge of the block materializes, you turn to look at the boy behind you.

“I’m gonna have to go ride back now.”

And when he draws closer, a flick of your mind takes the image of Miles’ exhausted face, assuming it’d be similar to what he’d look like once he recognizes the truth about you. You wonder if he feels it too— this strange air between the both of you, going past tension, and delving into something deeper and darker.

You’re so unsure. So afraid of how fragile this entire thing was.

“Ain’t I getting a kiss, nena?”

“You’re so needy.” You huff, opening your arms anyway. “If you get the bubonic plague, you’re gon’ be the one complaining all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, nena, whatever you say— just gimme my kiss.”

And he penguin walks his way to you, leaning down like a kid in search of candy. Miles steps into your view, following wherever you turned— his hands making their own journey across your waistline. Your palms snake up his shoulders, heels faltering backward when he presses you up against a brick wall. Your hands fall down to grip his arms instead, head tilting ever so slightly before taking his lips.

He takes you like you were his favorite drink, digging his fingers into the side of your waist— his body melting like ice on a summer day. With his hand, he angles your chin much higher, while yours trail up his chest, parting your lips to gasp for air, only for Miles to steal it away from you.

And when you part, you’re left a heaving mess.

“Trick or treating on Saturday?” He asks again. “Please?”

“… I—“

“I’ll take a bite of every candy you’ll get just to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”

You laugh at his remark.

“Fine.”

It was strange, almost unfamiliar to you, to meet the gate of the manor at this time of night.

It had you questioning your choices, your rationality, and the soundness of your mind. Your mind wasn’t entirely sound to begin with, fortunately for you Miles liked that about you.

After bribing the security, tossing Antonne’s bike to the side, and creeping into the damn place, suddenly, you’re thrust back into the stillness of your family’s generational household.

The marble tiles, the limestone brick walls, and the grandeur steps that parted by the center were all normalcy to you— in spite of how you’d always deemed your family as ‘capable’ to Miles.

Instead of childhood photos and potted plants, you were greeted by the sight of marvelously carved statues and antique paintings. Rather than a home, it felt more like a museum to you— but in a way, it was also your fault for keeping everything too clean.

It’s unfair.

One day you’ll leave this very house and leave it under the care of Antonne who hardly bore any interest for managing things. Despite the way you’ve learned to force yourself to take interest in numerous fields of whatever-the-fuck, this manor was something you treasured along with the hotel. Your father was well aware of your passion, your skills in tidiness, and that was the reason why he appointed you as Antonne’s proxy initially, but you were greedy for more.

You were a little too greedy to want Miles and the life you’d desired for the longest time. You didn’t know what the future was like, and you’ve grown too sick of having everyone else decide your own future for you. This life of infinite spending and glamour was the only life you’d ever known, and you weren’t prepared to abandon it all. As your mother said, no one’s privileged enough to be born as wealthy as you, and you’d likely carry that sort of financial ignorant bliss to the grave.

But Miles didn’t have that.

His family didn’t have generational heirlooms worth thousands of dollars, nor did they have antique paintings bought from highly private auctions. His home only had two bedrooms, unlike your own which housed tens of them.

You and him were astronomically different in more ways than one.

One of these days, those differences might end up either empowering or deadly to one of you.

Step. Step. Step.

As you treaded up the staircase, your hand jolts away from the icy ivory-pillared railings, cussing a subtle “Fuck,” as you went on. In the dead of the night, the halls appeared eerier and darker— as though you could see your own ancestors walking past the red carpets with their frilly gowns and downcast looks of disappointment. Like you could see them shaking their heads just after seeing you there, wearing Miles’ hoodie.

A scandal capable of ruining the family name. As if Antonne wasn’t enough, you ended up falling for a boy you’d likely run away with had you ever gotten the chance.

Elopement. Dramatically cliché, and somehow it still exists in the twenty-first century— for the star-crossed lovers and the filthy rich. Or maybe you just have really bad taste in men… Or parents! Pick a struggle.

You carried your shoes along with your guilt while trudging down the corridor, knowing you’ll likely have to have someone secretive clean the mess up for you. Antonne’s room was in a separate hall, with Malachi’s closer to your own. Even then, like a mouse, you scurry in silence just so you wouldn’t get caught. When you finally reach your door, a thousand burdens escape from your shoulders, only to hear a faint click when you try to twist the handle.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Why won’t it fucking open?” You whisper to yourself. A few more Click Click Click Click Click’s and you manage to finally recognize that you’ve been locked out of your own damn room. You search through your clothes to find the key, only to realize that it’d been in the pockets of the hoodie you’ve left at Miles’ place. In your anxiety, you pull on the edge of your hair, cursing a million words.

I can’t wake up Malachi.

You place your hand over your mouth.

Your breaths begin to stagger, your exhaustion taking hold of you. You tug at your hair a little harder, as though your current goal was to rip your scalp out— and it hurt, it hurt like absolute hell, but nothing was up to par with the pain brought to you by your own mean mind.

But you think, and you think.

Then you lean back, take a breath, and sigh.

And the next thing you know, you’re stabbing through the lock with a knife.

Well, it was less of a stab, more like a saw to jam the bolt. It took a few several tries, but it did manage to unlock after a snap. You heave a sigh of relief, heading right in before gently closing it shut. Immediately off to rest your head against the flat of your door as a sort of celebration for your success.

“… Where have you been?”

You celebrated a little too soon, unfortunately.

Antonne stared at you from the sill of one of your opened windows, the gleam of the new dawn gleaming in pink and blue behind him, casting a long shadow that trailed past your fluffy carpet and dawned over your darkened face. Ever so slowly, he plucks the dying cigarette from his teeth, the intoxicating scent tugging at your nostrils. For once, Antonne’s taken you aback after the longest while. He looks similarly exhausted, with his unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled hair, while also reasonably confused by your current appearance.

“I was out.” You shallowly answer, as if it weren’t too obvious. Antonne furrows his brows, only heightening the permanent arch he already endowed. At the sound of your words, he clicks his tongue and flicks the cigarette out the window.

“Was it that boy again?” He speaks a baritone lower, like something being dragged through gravel. His shoulders heightened as he rested his palms above the sill. You sense a sort of imposing façade.

“… Miles Morales?”

Your eyes flit open, ventriloquist-esque. Like a dummy brought to life to perform for the circus. At that moment, the two of you siblings began to notice the semblances mirroring your parents’ ways; the younger sister who weaponizes her own ignorance like her father, and the older brother who, like a dog, barks endlessly like their mother. Your body leans against the handle, placing all your weight down a single foot while preparing yourself for whatever Antonne’s spared to speak.

“… Fifteen years old, lives with his single mother, Rio Morales, who’s a nurse at Langone. He’s close with his uncle, Aaron Davis, and he keeps steady high marks at Visions Academy... And yet,” His gaze narrows distastefully. “Despite going to such an elite school, he continues on to live a shady life, having at least once or twice participated in vandalism, destruction of private property, and simple assault.”

Antonne eyes your reaction, but you only shrug.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He clears his throat.

“His father, Jefferson Davis, momentarily worked for father and applied for security three years ago.“ Antonne takes a step forward, the shadow over his face growing darker. “And on the opening night of Aureum, he signed up to take a shift at the evening party.”

Antonne stood eerily, and so did you. The tension a blur, cuttable with a single slice from the knife hidden behind you.

“Did you know about that too?”

“... What are you insinuating?”

Antonne yells out your name in a bellow, but you don’t flinch. Like a deer, round and wide, your eyes were hauntingly frozen, scrutinizing the way he heaved. He struggled to search for the words to describe you— crass, cruel, wicked, bitch. And it only mulled him downer seeing you look guiltless. With his hand, he drags you by the collar.

“You’re wearing the hoodie of a boy whose father died in the tragedy you’re fucking covering up.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 sent a picture || Just now

Aaron peers at the message at his phone, swiping it upwards, thinking it must’ve been some sort of scam or bot. He chugs down the final sip of his coffee, settling by the couch with a disgruntled moan. He rests his head by the armrest, placing his mug down by the table before him. As he stretches the ache off his limbs, another chime goes off from his phone.

He lazily plucks it from his side, wincing as the bright screen flashed him.

+17479256640 || Just now

This is your nephew, right?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“Shh." You pull a finger over your lips, hushing him as though he were a child. Your other hand drafts away from the lock, and you toss the knife to the side. The loud, clacking way it fell made Antonne jump. And he sees you, and the way your lips curled into this amused smile.

At that smile alone, he falters, remembering so suddenly every detail about the mother you two shared. Every strand of her beautiful hair which you endowed, the darkening of her gaze when she was having fun, and the deriding way she looked at the people she deemed inferior.

I don’t need a knife to kill you, Antonne.

That look you had, a smile which he now recognized as a sneer, was what true hatred was.

“Antonne, maybe you’re forgetting that I’m not covering up just any fuck up, I’m covering up your fuck up.”

And when you took a single step forward, all of what was left of Antonne’s confidence crumbled.

“The building collapsed because you forced the workers to rush the process of the construction— and when the media got a hold of what was happening, you ran to Switzerland with Richard just to avoid the consequences, and all of who dealt with everything was me.” You dug an accusing finger into his shoulder. “I took care of everything in your place, and I sacrificed so much for it. But when you realized how I might take over your spot in the hotel, you came back after three whole years— going through every detail of me that you could find as a weakness. Well, let me tell you one thing, my dearest brother,”

You whisper over to his ear. “You can’t beat me at a game you’ve never fucking played before.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron sits right back up, clutching his phone with strength he never thought he had. Swiftly, he presses the notification— greeted with a photo of Miles and some girl walking down the streets with their hands clasped together. When the text bubble reappears, another photo surfaces with the girl’s face being much clearer. A sense of familiarity strikes him, and he couldn’t quite place what it was.

He zooms into the picture, fingers grasping the bottom of his chin while scourging through his memories.

His eyes trace the details of your hair, every curve and curl— your eyes, downcast and very attentive of Miles’ presence. So aware of him, it’s as though he was all that was left in the world. And he looked at you the same way. For a moment, it was like witnessing Rio and Jeff once more, with those gazes smiles.

‘Pretty. The kind of pretty who knows what she wants, and she can use her own face to get it. When you say something stupid, she’ll let you know that what you said was stupid with just her eyes alone— and it’ll shut me up, and I love it.’

Those were Miles’ exact words. For the last two months, you were all he ever really talked about. Seeing you now, Aaron couldn’t help but raise his brows at the sight of your hand intertwined with his nephew’s. He ought to be lying if he ever said that Miles was exaggerating— you were definitely a looker. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had this gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a burden gnawing at his stomach.

He soon drags his thumbs across the keyboard, typing out immediately.

Aaron Davis || Just now

who’s this?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“… What’s happened to you?”

It was genuine. And it wasn’t just curiosity, Antonne was seriously wondering with worry.

“What have you done to the sister I grew up with?”

The sister he grew up with?

Antonne could still remember, every aspect and smile you bore three years ago. And he remembered as though it’d all disappeared just yesterday. You were a smiley little girl— always a little too smart for her own good, and always a little too cheeky. But you were shy, and often kept to yourself. Even during those days, you often hid yourself in the shadows, crawling into the corner of every room you entered with a book in your hand.

He recognized you then. Now you were a complete stranger.

Your hand drops, and you shove your shoulder against Antonne’s. “Grew up with? You never grew up.” You trudge towards the window, closing it shut as soon as you got to the handle. “Meanwhile, I had to be an adult as soon as possible because if not me, then who? Mom’s not here, Dad’s a mess, Malachi’s ten years old, Montrell’s in London, and you ran away.” Your body sinks down to the floor. “When I’m with Miles, I feel… Sixteen, like how I should be.”

“… But if you’d just give me the job—“

“I’m not giving you shit.” You spat. “Not yet, at least, stop fucking rushing.”

Antonne stood, watching you sit by the sill, hand over your nightstand to reach out for your vape.

And the way it exits, so lividly and hatefully, like how mother would smoke after every silent dinner.

You were everything like her.

No matter how much you tried to erase yourself from your mother’s legacy, it didn’t help that you were the spitting image of her.

Even in the way you struggled, you were still your mother’s daughter.

“You.. Remind me of...” Mother. The comment slips after seeing her image overlap with your silhouette. You already knew the ending of the sentence as soon as it exited his lips. As the smoke trickles past your teeth, you look up.

“… You want me to do what she would’ve done?”

The way the moonlight pooled before you reminded him of how the glass shards glimmered around your mother after she’d wrecked her own room.

“You’re already doing what she did,” He murmurs. “Doing stupid shit for stupid ideals.”

You grab whatever you can off of the nightstand, throwing it right at Antonne who steps back from the impact of the book. As you heave, he stared hauntingly.

“You think you’re the only one trying so hard in life? I’m also doing my fucking best. You’re basing me off of a mistake I did when I was seventeen.” He took a step forward. “You weren’t the only one forced into adulthood. Instead of playing soccer and going out on first dates, dad made me run a hotel. Sure! I didn’t do half as great as you’re fucking doing, but once you fuck up, dad’s going to abandon you too.”

“I know that.” You shakily admit. “I know that no matter what I fucking do, the hotel’s going to end up in your hands, and all I’ve got is a shitty arranged marriage bound to go down the drain and a few many nights with too much wine and regrets ahead of me.” You rub your hands together for the sake of warmth, your voice growing shakier as it settles to break.

“But what I want, what I really want— I just want dad to look at me and think, ‘oh, maybe she can take hold at least a part of the conglomerate!’ instead of selling me off!”

It’s as though the Hotel was Antonne’s toy, and you’d been polishing it all these years with great care, knowing damn well he’d leave it off to rot.

But you never wanted that toy in the first place. You wanted your father to see you taking care of that toy, in hopes he’d gift you one that you could take care of for yourself.

“The reason why he’s not giving you any of it is b—“

“Because he doesn’t want the Fisks to use me after the marriage, I know.”

You run your fingers through your hair, tugging as though it were about to fall of your scalp.

“I’ve found… A way to escape it.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 || Just now

Do you recognize the girl beside him?

You replied || Just now

No.

His knee jumps along to the drumming of his chest. He thinks of Miles, wondering if he’d been kidnapped, coerced, or attacked. He knew the boy— he’s strong enough to fend for himself against many things. He’s well taught, he’s a genius and…

He’s a fucking fool for his lady. Just like his father.

God, who knew that the lone weakness of the Prowler was a sixteen-year-old with a pretty face?

Ding.

+17479256640 || Just now

Sent an attached file

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

You and Antonne’s heads swerve at the sound of your phone’s ringing. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself off of the floor, scrambling to get your phone. With another hit off of the pen, you answer the call.

“What is it?”

And in the background, you hear yelling— commands being thrown in chaos and panic. You look at the ID, finding out that it’s one of your father’s aides. With a hushed whisper and a jagged breath, he reports.

“The Warehouse is being raided, miss–“ A gunshot soars through the air, chillingly searing through a momentary silence. The man whimpers, his voice muffled by his hand. “Raided?” You repeat, voice coming to a hush. “Raided by who?”

And with his jaded breath, he answers.

“.. The Prowler.”

249 notes · View notes

gardenfullofsage · 2 years ago

Text

Ceilings

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

Kylo loves you right? At least it's what you try to convince yourself of.

word count: 4,731 words

Warning(s) Heavy angst, Smut, Violence, Extra mean Kylo, Kylo's a dick in this one.

I don't own this Gif

You had convinced yourself that he needed you.

You had convinced yourself that he loved you.

You lay in your cold bed, as you watch him watch you. You pretend to not notice the look of anger on his face.

''You put my troops in danger'' His cold voice breaks the silence. You can't speak your voice raspy from the lack of dehydration. Funny, this is the first thing he tells you when you wake up.

''A thank you would be nice.'' You mutter quietly, you didn't want to anger him further. You don't flinch as he throws a vase against the wall.

''Thank you? I should kill you. You disobeyed my order, I told you to stay here, and now look at what you've done.'' You don't speak, you can't. You don't remember the last time you felt. warm.

''I saved your life Kylo, she would've killed you.'' This time you flinch, his grip on your face bruising. He forces you to look at him.

''Rey, has her own reasons. She's not as foolish as you.'' You fight the tears threatening to escape, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

''You're pathetic, you repulse me, the only thing you're good at is getting in my way.'' You shut your eyes, as Kylo stomps his way out of your shared room.

'shared.'

You were the only one whoever slept here.

It had been years since your marriage to Kylo, granted you had no choice. You never did.

His way of becoming supreme leader, was by murdering, conquering, and marrying into the dark side. Your parents were quick to hand you over, they feared for their lives.

Not yours.

You don't know what love is, you never experienced it. Not from your parents, you didn't have friends, and now you're stuck in a loveless marriage.

You'd agreed to marry him because you wanted to feel something, you wanted to feel loved.

You roll over wincing slightly as you roll on your back, the gash on your abdomen created by Rey. She had tried to hurt Kylo.

Her lightsaber pierced through you, while his words pierced through your heart.

You stare at your ceiling.

This time you do cry.

You cry for yourself.

'Ceilings, plaster. Can't you just make it move faster?'

You don't see much of Kylo after that, it didn't surprise you. The only times you did see him, were times you managed to somehow 'mess' up. Every time he'd come to you, it was to berate you, remind you how pathetic you were, he's never touched you. Not even once.

You'd convince yourself that it was his way of showing he cared.

At least a bit..

You wince slightly as you make your way off the command shuttle.

The overgrown grass grazes your legs as you walk through the field, you knew this place like the palm of your hand.

You had dreams of marrying here as a child. There wasn't much you remembered from your childhood, sometimes you'd create scenarios in your head.

Your eyes flutter shut involuntarily as you feel the cool breeze prick your face. The sharp contrast between the quiet you felt here, and the eerie buzz of machines on the ship soothing.

It was rare for you to receive permission off the ship. Your wound was still fresh, you refused treatment.

You didn't want to risk bumping into him. Especially vulnerable, he would never see that side of you.

After sll you're pretty sure he would never care. Not when she existed.

You were too into your head you failed to notice the figure looming over you.

''I ordered you back on the ship 5 minutes ago. Why are you still here.''

You did not need to look back, you knew that voice all too well. His voice always held conviction, he lacked empathy that you were very much aware.

Even knowing, your heart always manages to sink.

''Dinner will be served at 0:17, you are to join me no excuses.''

You don't nod, it wasn't a suggestion. It was a command, an order.

You sigh, regretting it immediately the sharp pain on your abdomen still present. You carefully rise from your seated position. You slowly follow him back onto the shuttle.

An impending feeling of dread fill the deepest depths of your gut.

Turns out the 'dinner' was 100% a faculty meeting. One you were forced to sit and participate in.

You sit next to Kylo, your hands on your lap as you mindlessly listen to the General. Hux' you're not sure though, you were never properly introduced.

You've shared formalities once, just a nod while passing nothing else.

Dinner was served much after, by that time your appetite was certainly gone.

The food Infront of you was barren and cold, like the occupants in here.

''Eat. Your wound needs the strength to heal.'' The hall is flushed in quite. The hush hung heavy in the air. Your heart beats.

''What?'' You're unsure of weather he was speaking to you or...

You stare into the dark abyss of his helmet. Your reflection clear, you watch yourself nod as you force a mouthful. The food was tasteless, goosebumps rose on your skin.

You felt the eyes of everyone on you. You wanted to shrink.

Kylo only did this to exort control. Power.

He wants others to know you were off limits. Funny, because that was made obvious. The the black band that rested on your finger was proof.

Behind closed doors, you were nothing to him.

To seal the deal Kylo interlocks your hands and rest them on the table. His grip tight.

The meeting stretched longer than you anticipated. Conversations of how to overcome and finally destroy the 'Rebellion.' Kylo's grip tightened at the mention of the Jedi.

You ignore the way your gut lurches, at the mention of her name.

The room suddenly grew impossibly hot.

Your discomfort however was noticed by the general.

''Is everything ok?'' You nod faintly, before rising from your seat. The metal screeching as it scratched the floor. You pull your hand from Kylo.

''I would like to excuse myself, I'm not feeling well.''

''Very well. You're dismissed.''

You don't wait for his approval. You don't look back, as you take slow and tentive steps out of the dining hall.

Once you're out of sight, you bolt . A wave of nausea greeting the pit of your stomach. You ignore the sharp pain shooting across your body as you rush into your room.

You burst into the bathroom before reaching to close the door, it doesn't.

A gloved hand prevents it from shutting.

Your eyes widen as you watch Kylo crowd the space.

''I'm sorry I-''

You words were cut off by a yelp. Your arm is forcefully grabbed as you're forced out of the bathroom.

''Kylo, stop you're hurting me.'' You protest fell on deaf ears as you're dragged out.

You scratch and pull at your arm in his grasp.

Once you manage to pull your arm free, you're frame sharply connects with a wall. The blow excruciating as you cry out.

''You expect me to keep you around? How are you supposed to Rule beside me, when you're constantly embarrassing yourself.'' Your body is fueled with rage at his words.

You couldn't believe this man.

''Then why do you?! It has been made very clear of my disturbance. You do not need to keep me around.'' The room grew deathly quiet.

The hiss of Kylo's helmet, is the only warning you receive before its flung hard against the wall.

''You have no right to speak to me as such. I am your ruler, you obey me.''

You laugh un-amusement dripping from your voice as you stare into his lifeless eyes.

''I'll tell you what you ar-'' The sharp sting causes the air to escape your lungs. Tears well up in your eyes, as you watch his gloved hand curl as he uses the force against you.

''You take pride in being a burden. I should've killed you when I had the chance.''

This time your tears do fall. You shut your eyes as agony fills your body. The pain of your wound no match for the pain of your heart.

''You take pride in being something you're not. I see right through your stupid helmet, your stupid mask.'' You gasp out, you should stop talking but you're so angry.

You're so angry... you're so hurt.

''You fail to see what everyone thinks of you. Rey-''

''You shut your mouth!''

''You give her your hand, and she rejects you. You come back to me. You hate her because she rejected you. So here I am.' You don't kill me because you fucking can't!''

Your words hang heavy in the air.

Kylo's glare deep in your bones, as you struggle to stay coherent. The force finally taking its toll on your body. You almost think you're wrong. And this is his way of proving it to you.

'He's actually killing you.'

The force is ripped off, as you gasp for air.

An expression of pure hatred etched onto his skin as you watch him leave.

'This felt like the start of a movie you've seen before.'

Weeks, and maybe months pass before you ever see Kylo again. The scarring of his words forever etched into your head.

You selfishly, wish your own words stick with him too.

The past few days passed by in a blur. The first order was finally gaining onto the Rebellion. Victory was finally. promised.

The door to your room opens with a woosh.

Kylo stands sickly still. You pretend to be asleep, your heart beats as your eyes squint open.

''I know you're awake. Get up and follow me.'' You watch as he marches back out.

''Keep your mouth shut, don't speak unless addressed, and stay close.'' You nod as you walk closely behind him. You had never been here, the place was eerily quiet, shivers racked your spine as you made your way to stars knows where.

''The mighty Kylo Ren, When I found you, I saw what all masters lived to see. Raw Untamed power, and something truly special... the potential of your blood line.'' You freeze as you here Snoke utter those words.

You feel Kylo also freeze, the steps of the Supreme Leader loud as he makes his way over.

''Within your bloodline, a new Vader will rise, I was mistaken.'' You watch as Kylo lifts his head.

''I've given everything I have to you... To the dark side'' His helmet disorients his voice.

''Take that ridiculous thing off.'' You watch as Kylo hesitates to remove his helmet. A big nasty gash paints the side of Kylo's face, your eyes widen as you take in the wound.

''You have too much of your father's heart in you.''

''I killed him, when the moment came, I didn't hesitate.'' Yiu shut your eyes, as you take in his words. He was capable of killing his own father.

''And look at you the deed spread your spirit to the bone...You were unbalanced bested by a girl who had never held a lightsaber...you failed.''

You watch as your husband gets up and is blasted with snokes force.

''Don't you touch him!'' You feel your heart pound as you stand over Kylo. You hold your head high, as Snoke marches his way towards you.

''Silly girl, you fool.'' Your lips curls in disgust as he gives you a once over.

You flinch as he passes a hand through your hair, he chuckles sinisterly.

''You've managed to get yourself a good one, she will do just fine.'' You stop breathing entirely.

''The seed of the Jedi order lives, as long as it does hope lives in the galaxy. I thought you would be the one to snuff it out. Unless you're no Vader, You're just a child in a mask.''

The elevator ride back to your room was tense.

The tiny space felt crowded. You stood behind Kylo as he vibrated in anger.

Seconds felt like hours.

You watch in horror as he drives his helmet, through the wall repeatedly. Sparks of the destroyed fuses, burning as they caught on your skin. ''Kylo stop! You're hurting yourself.'' You don't know why you try reasoning with him.

His relentless beating to the wall doesn't deter, or slow. You were left with no choice. You roughly pull his head into your grasp, as you pull him into a hug.

Kylo tenses in your hold, and you half expect him to pull you off, and kill you for the stunt. But he stills completely before wrapping his large arms around your body.

You stand holding each other for a while, the feeling entirely new.

This was the first time he ever held you tenderly.

You so badly want this moment to last, you so badly wish time would stop.

The sudden ding of the elevator snaps Kylo out of whatever trance he was in. Soon he's rushing out of the metal encapsule barking out commands, as you stand staring at his destroyed helmet.

This was the Kylo you never knew could exist.

'And I would say all of this. But I don't wanna ruin the moment'

You're much more careful around Kylo, he seems to be in better moods.

He no longer yelled or ordered you around.

You found yourself suspicious. Every encounter behind closed doors was 'decent.'

You stare at the ceiling in your room. You replay and overthink the constant movies playing in your head. You were grateful, to improve on your skills of blocking him. out

He had no means, or way into getting into your head.

Your eyebrow ticks as you sit up. 'He had thanked you for walking alongside him.'

Granted you really had no choice but... still

Your seated beside him again as you partake in another faculty meeting. This time the topic surrounded and revolved around 'destroying' the Jedi.

Your eyebrow ticks once again.

'Is he allowing this to happen?'

You highly doubt it, especially when he almost practically split you in half for even mentioning her.

''We have some matters to discuss after this.'' He had mentioned discussing matters, ever so often.

''From now on, you are to attend any meeting alongside me. You are to stand beside me. Walk beside me, breathe and eat beside me. I will expect no less. Am I clear?''

Your head nods. His beady eyes stare into your soul.

''Use your words.''

''Yes,''

''Good girl''

For the third time today, your eyebrow again ticks.

You really should've taken his words into consideration. You find yourself next to him every second, every minute, of everyday. You walked beside him as soon as you land on the Death Star.

This is where the latest appearance of the 'Resistance' was made.

Your hands grow clammy, you've witnessed what they could do.

You've witnessed what he could do. You've been on the receiving end of his wrath; you can't even bring yourself to imagine what could occur.

The telltale singe of his lightsaber coming to life, sickening...

A gnawing feeling of dread filled the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes frantically look for Kylo. He had disappeared.

The sky began to cry. Rain fell hard as it drenched your entire being.

You dashed holding onto the bottom of your dress.

Your heart pounded. You dashed as fast as you could. Your body taking heavy blows from the ground as you slipped. Your speed never falttered.

The feeling of your heart getting heavy, your motivation.

The scene displayed in front of you; heart wrenching.

You watched as Rey stood over Kylo; her hand outstretched in an offering.

The violent crashes of the waves cold.

You feel your body move before your mind. The sight of Rey picking up his saber flashing.

The burn of the lightsaber, nothing like the burn in your chest.

'You'd fooled yourself.'

Your mind was failing to catch up, your once Chartreuse colored dress. Red from the blood leaving you.

You stare in panic, as she stands over you. Ironic.

She's always won.

She had the one thing you've dreamt of having..

His love.

''This is what you stand for? You stand for madness. Chaos''

You heave.

This is the woman he wanted to rule alongside with.

This is the woman he deemed, fit for your role.

You've saved his life twice now...

Your vision blurred, as rain crashed over you. The red oozed out of you and washed away with the waves.

You stare as she is flung to the side, by an invisible force. Her body colliding with the side of the ship as she lands hard on the ground.

Your limp body dragged onto a lap.

Your energy was draining, it was hard to keep your eyes open.

''Keep them open, stay with me.''

His hair damp from the rain, you want to speak. You want to say how stupid you feel.

You want to tell him how much you hate him.

You want to tell him how much you love him.

'You're kinda cute, but it's Raining harder. My shoes are now full of water, Lovely to be rained on with you'

''I hate how stupid you make me feel.''

Breathing is getting harder, this wasn't like the first time. No.

This time Kylo holds you, forcing you into a hug. He pushes the damp hair laying across your face, before he plants a shaky kiss onto your lips.

You feel your mouth stretch into a smile.

You feel warm.

His dark eyes the last thing you see before you're pulled into an abyss.

'But it's not real, And you don't exist, And I can't recall the last time I was kissed.'

You feel cold. And everything hurts. Your eyes slowly open, you squint as you try to adjust to the florescent lights. You try to sit up, the movement impossible.

''You're awake.''

You turn your head to the side, Kylo sat beside your bed. His large form barely fitting into the sofa chair.

''How long?''

Your voice was dry and raspy. He hushes you before placing a cup to your lips. You drink the liquid graciously. Your nerves tick. 'Why was he here?'

''You never seem to follow simple orders.''

The lack of conviction in his voice surprised you.

''I wasn't going to let you die-''

''And so, you'd rather die?!''

You shut your eyes. You didn't want to do this today. You were way over fighting with him. You had learned how stubborn Kylo was. A silent nod was the only response you gave him. He scoffs.

''You are supposed to rule beside me, not below.''

''I was never meant to rule beside you.''

You were tired. Too tired. Exhaustion filled your voice. There was no need to feign interest, there was no need to feign concern, and there was certainly no need to feign care.

''Kylo, I think we should stop here-''

''Don't you even dare finish that sentence. There is no ending. You are to get better. No excuses. Or so help me stars-''

''Rey, is she okay?''

You don't know why you asked, maybe reassurance. Maybe you just wanted him to rip the band aid off. Who knows. You hold your breath though. You want to be sure, you want to get closure. You want him to be happy, even if it wasn't with you. Even if he destroyed you.

''She should be dead for what she did to you! She hurt you.''

You notice the way his voice softens.

''Let me in...''

Your handshakes as you trace the scar adorning the side of his face. Kylo's eyes clench shut. He grabs your wrist before placing a delicate kiss onto the inside of your palm.

''I can't... I'm scared.''

Kylo doesn't argue he just nods. His cape flutters behind him before he goes to leave.

''I will bring the medic.''

With that the door wooshes shut.

Once again you find yourself staring at the ceiling.

'And it kinda comes out, As I get up to go.'

Days bled into nights since the incident. Kylo loomed over you like a hawk. You were never out of his sight. He was your shadow. You've began to grow used to his overbearing behavior; you find yourself looking forward to seeing him.

His anger was still an issue. Just not for you.

For once his wrath was not directed towards you.

Today was no different. News of the 'Resistance' Successful escape quickly filled the empty halls of the ship.

Chaos ensued.

Bodies plagued the floor, some lay still others out cold.

''Kylo.''

Your voice interrupted whatever was going on in the control room. The thud of the body, being choke by Kylo's force, loud.

Kylo turned at the sound of your voice, his black helmet now decorated with red. Due to your handiwork. You both stand staring at eachother, before you turn and walk out.

You smile at the sound of his pounding feet coming after you.

You walk in silence; you lure him into your shared room. You lean on a wall, arms crossed as you stare at him. You're unsure when this confidence of being within each others prescence formed.

''They can't get away with this... She can't get away with what she did.''

You hum in acknowledgement. You stare into his helmet.

''Take it off''

You hear his intake of breath before the hissing of his mask fills the quiet.

You walk slowly to where he sits on the bed. Your feet come in between his spread legs. You move his hair out of his face, before tracing the scar adorning his face delicately. He shuts his eyes as he releases a sigh. His large arms wrap around your stomach, he rests his head there; you caress his head.

The tension immediately leaving his body.

''Please let me in..''

Your heart thuds in your chest. Vulnerability coats his words. You slowly let the walls down. You cringe as a sharp singing of pressure rushes into your head.

Your thoughts were bare.

Kylo's arms clench around your midsection as he infiltrates your thoughts. Your soothing hand does not stop it's motions.

'Lovely to sit between comfort and chaos.'

I want you to bear my children.

The cough released from your chest loud in the room.

Kylo stares an amused expression taking over his face.

''I'm- I'm sorry?''

''I need to begin forging my bloodline... We need to begin forging our bloodline.''

Your eyes are wide. You'd been taking things slow. The past few months beyond enjoyable. You fell into a silent comfort. You were there, and he was here.

''I, I don't know what to say.''

''Don't say much...whenever you're ready.''

That night you laid wide awake. he laid beside you. You've walked beside him, did everything with him...You haven't shared a kiss after the first one.

Too scared to rush into it.

The sound of rustling sheets grabs your attention as you look to the side.

''You're thinking too loud.''

''Sorry...Were you being serious?''

''Hm''

''You want me to forge your bloodline?''

''No, I want you to forge our bloodline.''

Your heart skipped a beat. You turn to look at him. Kylo was already staring at you. Your eyes were like magnets, connecting every time. Your attraction for one another grew. You could feel it. Feel him.

''If this is about what Snoke-''

''Snoke no longer influences me.''

He had killed him. Set himself free. You nod, unable to use your words. Your thoughts were going haywire. The feeling of his hand caressing your face comforting. He had reclused any form of affection behind walls.

That night he kissed you.

He'd kissed you soft and slow. His mouth relayed everything he couldn't bring himself to say. Your hands grasped onto his shoulder. You looked for grounding.

If this was a dream you did not want to wakeup.

Your once soft kisses quickly became passionate. Your unspoken words a cacophony of something beautiful. Tears welled in your eyes.

'Finally'

His hands cup your face gently, as he breaks the kiss. He plants soft kisses onto your neck, his lips graze over your most sensitive parts.

Your grip on his shoulders, tightening.

You feel him slide, down, down until he's looking up. Your eyes meet as you nod. You gulp at the anxiety rapidly bubbling in your stomach.

Your panties are pulled off from beneath your nightgown, the air of the night Cold.

You arch your back of the bed, as Kylo blows a puff of air.

''So beautiful.''

He wastes no time as he dives in. His nose

bumping into your pearl, sends your eyes rolling back. His sharp tongue once uses to bring you to tears, now brings you to pieces.

The groan he releases cause a moan to escape from between your lips. His pace doesn't change. You find yourself gripping onto his hair, as you buck your hips onto his face. He chuckles the vibrations sending you into overload.

''Please-''

''Patience''

He's hushing you.

Your words slurred, as his thick digit teased your hole. You gasp as he shoves it inside, rocking it back and forth before he introduces a second one. Your groan in ecstasy, as he scissors you.

''Oh stars-''

'Bedsheets, no clothes. Touch me like nobody else does.'

You try to quiet your moans. his hands slap at your thigh. The impact sending tingles to your already sensitive body.

''Let me here how good I make you feel.''

Your body is coated in a light sheen of sweat. He looked so good between your legs. You throw your head back and clench your highs against his face, as his fingers quicken.

His tongue curls just around your clit, and you burst. The wire snapping, as you gush. Kylo never stops, even after you bordered sensitivity his laps never let up.

''Please, I can't-''

''Give me one more baby, give me. one more.''

Your body withered as he forced another orgasm out of you, you laid limp. Kylo crawled over you, you force his mouth onto yours. He moans as you lick yourself off his lips.

You loved the taste of you on his mouth. Your night gown is slipped off of you, as you undress him.

He kneels between your spread legs, his arms holding onto your ankles. Kylo places a delicate kiss on the inner side of your ankle.

''Are you sure?''

You nod your head.

''Use your words-''

''Yes''

''That's my girl'' He chuckles at your desperation.

Your eyes stay connected as he you feel him rub his cock over your lips. Your mouth gapes, as he nudges over your clit. Kylo coats himself in your slick.

Before you moan at the pop of him finally entering. The intrusion, borderline painful. He shushed you as you cried. His thumb going between your bodies, to rub at your clit.

''Tell me to stop and I will.''

You frantically shake your head. You beg him to move, do something to relieve the burning pressure growing between your legs.

Kylo's pace started off slow, he took his time in kissing you allover, marking you. Claiming you.

Your hands tangled into his hair, as he thrusted deeper.

Your lips never sepertaed.

Kylo was painting your sky with stars. Hanging the moon for you.

''Please.''

This time his pace quickens, your moans grow as the headboard of your shared bed slams against the wall.

''Take it.''

''You're doing so good.''

''Fuck, you feel so good.''

Kylo's praises in your ear, bring you to other levels. You find, yourself begging for him. You want him inside and out.

''You're mine...''

''I'm going to put a baby in you.''

''You're going to be nice a round with my baby, you want that?''

You nod frantically words slurring into Yes's.

''You're my queen, you're going to rule beside me forever. Not even death will keep us apart.

Your eyes well up with tears. Kylo wipes at the them, his pace never faltering not even as he makes you come over and over again.

Not even when he paints you full of him.

Not even when he tells you how much he loves you.

Tonight, you don't stare at your ceiling, you finally stare at him..

'And it feels like the end of a movie I've seen before, Before.'

___________________________________________

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#star wars sequel trilogy #adam driver #adam driver x reader #adam driver smut #kylo ren #kylo ren smut #smut #angst

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