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throneofsapphics · 1 year ago

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finding you again, part one

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: references to utm, war, disease

a/n: sorry for the delay! part two coming in the next few days, if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, you can comment under here or send me an ask/message!

series masterlist

Shockwaves of magic swept through Prythian and the surrounding islands at once. It felt like the ground beneath your feet shifted. Once, twice, three times - and you heard shouts from around you. You took a brief moment to thank the mother that it wasn’t just in your head.

You picked up the basket, sprinting back towards your home. Herbs flew out of the sides, but you’d go back to collect later. Whatever this was now, it was huge. You felt it in your bones, something in your world was changing, everything seemed to come to a standstill - the rest could wait.

The entire island was tense for the next few days, everyone waiting to see what did happen. Whispered murmurs of the possibilities, of the could-be’s, of the tentative hope blossoming - a hope nobody let show publicly.

Secluded by yourselves, the wards you’d collectively put together at the beginning of Amarantha’s reign, near impenetrable, made news difficult to come by.

Three days later, a tingling sensation on the back of your neck woke you. It was gone by the time you’d rushed into your kitchen, fingers white-knuckled around a dagger.

Two letters. One addressed to the inhabitants of the town, wax sealed with the stamp of the Night Court. Next to it, one with just your name.

Shaking hands, unsteady breaths, you ripped it open, ignoring the sting of a small cut on your index finger.

Your eyes flew over the words. The paper began to fold under your tight grip, edges wrinkling.

Unsteady breaths, a lone tear dripping down your cheek, it took minutes of pacing and intentional breathing to collect yourself.

Bringing it back to your room, you climbed half under your bed, sliding a loose board aside and shoved the letter inside, sliding a box over it. That couldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

Grabbing the other envelope, swinging your door open, a cool spring breeze hitting your face, reddening your cheeks and nose, before heading to share the news.

You ignored the other implication of the situation. The particular scent lingering on the envelope. You hadn’t thought of him in years, and now wasn’t the time to start.

“The High Lord wants to visit,” the older female breathed, eyes wide as she turned her gaze to you, before frowning. “Why would he ask?”

“He could be having difficulty getting through the wards,” her mate said, covering the female’s hand with his own, mouth curving at the corners, a twinkle of pride. Well deserved, he had painstakingly designed them.

“Or he’s sending this as a courtesy, they got the letter to us after all,” she snorted, but returned his smile.

You knew who’d sent the letter. The hint of night chilled mist and cedar so unique you couldn’t have imagined it.

With Madja’s help, you’d gotten permission from Rhysand to leave Velaris sixty years ago, for a while able to visit every few months until…

You subconsciously rubbed the bargain tattoo on your ribcage. Three stars surrounded by a circle, your promise to never reveal the location of Velaris.

Azriel knew his brother needed a distraction, and frankly - he needed to leave the damn city. The once safe haven that had become a necessary prison. He was too self-aware to discount the other reason, the need to lay eyes on you and see that you were safe, at least somewhat.

Rhys shot him a curious look when he volunteered too quickly - when Azriel had raised the idea.

“There’s wards surrounding the island,” he schooled his face neutral - the spymaster, doing his job, “are near impenetrable.” Except perhaps by you or me, he didn’t need to say aloud. Yes, he’d sent shadows to scout the area soon after the curse broke, and they’d brought interesting reports in turn.

Rhys nodded, and Azriel sat across from him as he wrote out two letters, sealing and sliding them across the table.

One was addressed to … you. His blink of surprise gave him away.

“You know her?” Rhys’s eyes glimmered. He’d been discreet with his lovers, and of course he was aware Rhys knew, but just because he’d thought of you didn’t mean he wanted to share with others. But … the amused expression in Rhys’s eyes wavered, revealing some of the strain beneath.

A distraction, that’s what his brother and High Lord needed, and perhaps he could do with a touch of vulnerability.

“We were involved … before she left.”

“I know,” Rhys smirked. For fucks sake. “Why do you think I let her leave and keep knowledge of Velaris? It was obvious she could keep a secret - she never said a word about your … involvement, to anyone else.”

Again, something he knew, but he had the decency to show a touch of surprise.

Azriel raised a brow, a gentle nudge against the shields barricading his mind, and he lowered them slightly.

“You’re willing to make a bargain?” Rhys leaned back in his chair, you seated before him, fidgeting and brimming with energy.

“Yes,” your voice was strong and firm.

“Very well,” his mouth turned up at the corners, a smile designed to put people at ease - it worked on you.

The bargain was fair and concise. You could leave Velaris, and return as you wish as long as you never revealed or hinted to the name, location, or existence of Velaris.

Azriel pushed Rhys out, slamming walls back in place. “Why are you showing me this?”

“You want to investigate the island, don’t you?” He wanted to slap the smirk off the other male's face. “She’s one person you know intimately,” Azriel rolled his eyes, “who lives there.”

“I doubt she would speak to me,” he retorted dryly.

“You’d be surprised what time and distance can do,” he countered. Az shook his head, he wouldn’t let false hope sink in, hope of regaining your … friendship. Maybe seeing you, even if it was just once, would be enough.

A day later, Azriel stood on a cliff, wards pulsing with magic in front of them. Rhys to his left, Mor flanking his other side, they waited for … well, he wasn’t entirely what. For someone who would let them in. Rhys had sent a charmed parchment, designed to deliver their answer immediately, and everything in the letter sounded perfectly enthusiastic.

Magic parted enough to reveal an older female and male - centuries older than themselves given the wrinkles starting to line their faces, appearing as if they were close to fading. Both carried themselves with confidence, but a warm and open demeanor as they bowed deeply.

“Thank you for coming to see us,” the male rasped.

He took brief notes of their names, the introduction, while sending discreet shadows to poke around the rest of the wards and small community. Due diligence and routine instinct now. They eyed him just a touch of caution, but it didn’t phase him, it never had.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “we’ve prepared lunch.”

“Not at all,” Rhys smiled, the warmth in his tone almost matching the one he used with the citizen’s of Velaris, still laced with subtle authority.

Less than a quarter of a mile, and they approached a quaint looking town. Stone houses, slightly corroded by salty air, but built sturdily - ready to weather any type of storm. Sure, he’d heard all of this through his shadows but seeing had a different effect. Paved pathways, a few different shops and a tavern.

“Not much of an economy now,” she was telling Mor, “we trade what we can, all help each other out. Kept to ourselves the last few decades.” Kept to ourselves.

‘They locked themselves away,’ Rhys’s voice flooded through his mind. “The community is small enough that Amarantha didn’t bother looking.” But they’d been a vital trading port for the Night Court before. He was surprised she’d ignored it. “I was too,” Rhys said.

Ignored, but she’d considered them anyway. A sickening feeling coiled in his gut. If Amarantha had gotten to you …

“The healer you recommended,” the male spoke to Rhys, pulling him from his mind, ''saved all our lives when a disease swept through, ‘bout thirty years ago. A great female.”

“One of the best healers I know,” Rhys replied. It was the truth. As far as healers went, you were one of the best available. He wondered if you knew the other reason you were sent here; If Hybern were to attack the Night Court, they all suspected this Island would be the first target, and a skilled and trustworthy healer was needed on the ground. On the front lines. That sickening feeling returned, and Azriel knew he needed to set his own eyes, not just shadows, on you before he left.

You couldn’t avoid the lunch, not without raising suspicion. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. He was the spymaster, after all, not usually sent to do courtesy visits. Still, this had been the talk of the town for the last two weeks.

‘The High Lord,’

‘Do you think he’s as handsome as they say?’

‘He isn’t mated or married, is he?’

Mother above. You had to try and match their excitement, to blend in. They couldn’t know you grew up seeing him frequently in Velaris. All they’d known is you apprenticed with one of the Inner Circle’s preferred healers - and even that was a rumor you’d never confirmed or denied.

Hand braced on your doorframe, three conscious breaths, and you pushed it open, forcing your hands to relax at your sides, keeping your strides even and steps paced.

A small crowd had gathered outside of the largest tavern, and you weaved yourself into the fray, balancing on your toes to catch a glimpse through the open doors.

Hazel eyes connected with yours, and your stomach dropped.

Just your luck. You couldn’t bring yourself to break the gaze, the way his eyes searched you, the brief hint of relief in them. Why the hell was he relieved? He’d made it perfectly clear you meant little to him, and now he meant nothing to you.

Slipping backwards, you tore your gaze away and slipped down the street.

“Go ask her some questions,” Rhys had thrown a hint of command into his tone. He wanted Azriel to gain some kind of information from you. It made sense. He wanted, needed, to see you anyway. “I’ll keep everyone distracted.”

Easy enough for him, Azriel took the next chance to melt into the shadows, to follow you. You led him right to a secluded cliff, sitting a few safe paces back, arms wrapped around your knees, squeezing tighter and he approached from the side - in your line of sight.

“What do you need?” He wasn’t surprised by the harshness. Pausing a good few paces to your left, he sat, legs kicked out in front of him, bracing his palms on the cold stone.

“To ask a few questions.”

“Go ahead,” you muttered, still keeping your eyes off him.

“How did you remain hidden all of these years?”

“Magic. Wards. Things Fae more skilled than I created.”

Truth, a shadow sung in his ear.

“Who?”

“You probably already met them,” you groused. He fought back a smirk, he’d forgotten how cute you could be when you were grumpy, and promptly wiped that idea from his mind.

“Tell me anyway.”

You listed the two who’d greeted them. Not surprising. It also told him it wasn’t quite a secret, especially with the brief pride flashed in your eyes.

“Did you have to … give anything to it?”

“Ask them.”

“I’m asking you,” he countered mildly. You wouldn’t get away with evading his questions.

“A bit of blood and a bit of magic.”

He hummed. Rhys would probably ask similar questions, but it was good to hear from another source.

“Why did you need to come here?” Venom filled your tone.

“By our High Lord's request,” Azriel said dryly.

By our High Lord’s request. Of course there was no interest in seeing you. You were merely a bonus, a person he could easily ask questions to. You hated yourself for letting the thought cross your mind.

“I wanted to see you, as well,” you almost missed the softly spoken words.

“What made you think I want to see you?” You shot at him, finally turning to face him.

“I didn’t say that,” a brief flash in his eyes. “I said I wanted to see you.”

“You’ve seen me,” you waved a hand. “Any more questions?” Brief silence. “Good. Leave me the fuck alone.” Forever, the narrowing of your eyes said.

“You should know,” he tilted his head back, this time escaping your gaze. “I didn’t forget about you - I”

“Just stop,” you hissed. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The implication struck you - others had forgotten, and he knew that. Azriel leaned forward, eyes on the ocean, knees raising and forearms bracing on them.

“Amarantha may be gone,” a shiver ran down your spine - at the name, and the low and deadly tone, “but Hybern will still cause issues.” War. “Rhys will give the same warning to your town today. Velaris and here may be the safest places in the Night Court.”

“Is he asking us to open the wards?” Because they’d do it in a heartbeat, and you knew that.

“Perhaps,” Azriel said, and turned back to you, hazel eyes searching for something. “You’d be safe here.”

“If there’s going to be a fucking war, i’ll be there. Healing.”

“I know,” an unrecognizable set of emotions flashed in his eyes. “I’d see you there.”

“I hope not,” you countered, keeping your eyes fixed on the waves, on the white foam topping them. A current so violent only the strongest swimmers braved it. “I might not like you, but I don’t want to see anyone,” you emphasized, “hurt.”

Azriel nodded, and rocked forward, rising to his feet. He offered a hand to you, you ignored it, pushing yourself up and facing the path back to town.

“Stay safe, spymaster,” you looked over your shoulder, “and do it far away from me, won’t you?”

A grin crossed your face at the brief ire reflecting on his and you strode off.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you #azriel acotar

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adventuringblind · 2 years ago

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Oscar the Matchmaker: Part Two

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: series

Summary: Oscar struggles with the aftermath of Alpine and a rough start of the season

Warnings: Toxic work place

Notes: I’m using alpine drama as a plot point. Also they call Oscar Jack because lord it’s such a cute nickname he has.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The fact that two rookies are enjoying the luxury that comes with being a world champion is completely ridiculous.

Max loves to spoil them. Mainly because is makes them shy as they try to turn down his offers. He’s stubborn though and usually gives them no other choice but to relent.

Now he’s spoiling them with sleep. They all love sleep. All the time. It’s one of their favorite activities.

Max however, is not sleeping, just resting. His mind moving but his body remains stationary.

Oscar shoots out of the bed faster then Max can register. The Aussie is practically silent as he does it.

The Dutch is quick to follow him. Gently kissing the forehead of the girl still asleep before leaving the room.

Oscar is pacing back and forth, his hands tugging at his hair. He looks to Max as if he’s trying to seem productive and yet not getting anywhere simultaneously.

“Jack?”

He jumps at the sound of Max’s voice. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was already awake, just to lazy to move.” Max drags him over to the couch. “Wanna talk about what’s going on in your head?” If there is one thing Max has learned about the Australian, it’s that he’s calm and collected outside and a whirl whine on the inside.

“I just panicked. It’s Tuesday.” He sighs.

A sleepy eyed female walks into the room and drapes herself over them. The two males practically use her as a blanket. “Tuesdays are Alpine meeting days.” Her voice may be sleepy, but the venom in her voice doesn’t go unheard. Max threads his fingers through her hair that is splayed messily across his lap.

"So muscle memory?" Asks the confused Dutch.

Oscar starts fumbling around with his words. "Well - no, it's just that- Alpine weren't the best to me, I guess." His fingers find his hair and run the back if his neck raw.

The confusion turns into concern as Max goes wide-eyed. He knows all the drama that happened. There were countless nights on the phone with Daniel about it. That was Max's first impression of the rookie. The fact he apologized to Daniel for taking his spot and being a hindrance to him.

"He'd gotten in trouble for over sleeping once, and it was absolutely hell. I had half a mind to report them to the FIA." The girl on their lap is flushing with frustration now, her knuckles turning white from her fist tightening around nothing.

Max could see the memories flooding the Australians eyes. He leans over to him and kisses the top of his head. "It makes sense now why you avoid them like the plague."

"They are the plague."

The witty comments sometimes shock the two. The girl is usually quiet around people she doesn't know and is kind for the most part. However, she's also protective.

Max and Oscar chuckle at her antics. Watching her carefully drift in and out of sleep.

The next race weekend, they walk in together. It's not uncommon since her and Oscare are practically attached at the hip, but Max is new. They just tell people it's a coincidence.

Oscar has always walked her to her garage. Currently, it's towards the end of the paddock. Meaning they have to pass Alpine to get to it.

Max takes not of how Oscar refuses to look anywhere but the ground. He can't see the female since she's on the other side of Oscar, but he can hear her seething.

The Australian visibly relaxs when they are past.

It sucks saying goodbye to her. They woke up this morning, and it felt perfect. The morning rays leak through the window, limbs tangled up in each other. None of them wanted to get up or leave.

Now, the first had gone off to work, and Max and Oscar were left to walk back down.

Max makes it a point to walk on the side closest to the hospitality entries. He doesn't say anything as they near the door. Some of the guys in charge meandering around right outside.

"I know what you're doing." Says the Australian.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Max looks at him and winks. Somehow, the action calmed Oscar's overreacting brain.

Max waved off Oscar as he jogged to catch up with Lando. The Brit shot him a few confused glances. The ones that said he has questions.

Lando may he an idiot, but he's not as oblivious as everyone thinks he is.

Max leaves that for another day.

She knew something was off with the Austr as soon as he entered the room. They're all exhausted from the race, but he was completely void of life.

There's no goofy smiles or sarcastic jokes. Just Oscar, sitting on the bed staring at the wall. She can see him processing something. Whatever it is, it can't be good.

She looks at Max. The Dutch just stares at her with confusion. She'd learned that his upbringing made him mildly clueless when it came to dealing with emotion.

With that in mind, she sets off to Oscar's side. She sits down next to him and takes his hand in her own. "Jack, you gotta talk to us." She signals Max with her eyes to sit on the other side of him. Good thing she's not clueless or they would be in trouble.

"It's stupid drama stuff."

"It's not stupid if it's making you upset." She puncuates with a kiss on his cheek.

"Stupid Alpine and their stupid comments. Apparently, I am not the most expensive but terrible rookie to ever be signed." He sighs. They can hear how he tries to pass it off, but they both know he's lying.

"Lies and slander. You're the best rookie this season. You're driving a tractor right now for fucks sake." Max says.

"Logically, I know that. Emotionally, I don't."

"And you're not required to know that yet, technically speaking." She counters, causing the Australian to roll his eyes.

Max chuckles to himself. “I could crash my car into their garage if you really want me too.”

“As funny as that sounds, I would rather you win if neither of us can even get close.”

“…at least you two are consistently in the points!”

Tuesday again. They all lay asleep in bed together. Max opens his eyes for a moment and catches the females gaze.

She places a finger over her lips and points at Oscar. The Australian breathing evenly, sound asleep.

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francesminos-tt · 7 months ago

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-Pride and Prejudice au- 6

I am back!!! The plot has deviated from the original Jane Austin work a lot, so treat it like any other Regency au!

Joffrey didn’t return to the room he shared with Lucerys until the crack of dawn. Lucerys was pacing around the room in panic when he heard the knock on the door.

“Joff? Where have you been?” Lucerys looked around the corridor to make sure no one was out there before dragging his younger brother inside and shutting the door, “Do you know how worried I am when I woke up and you were not here-”

Lucerys stopped when he saw Joffrey’s tear-stained face. Joffrey’s hair was a complete mess, his night gown distorted, exposing his neck and collar bone, and his eyes were puffy and pink, as if he had been crying all night. All words died in Lucerys’s throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Joffrey in such a distressed state. He wondered if there had even been such a time.

“Joff? Are you alright?” Lucerys asked gently, walking up and wrapping one of his arms around Joffrey’s shoulder, “You are freezing.”

Joffrey was in his night gown, the thin fabric cold and damp to the touch. He was shaking slightly, fingers clenching into a fist so tight that his knuckles all turned white.

Lucerys could tell that something must have happened for Joffrey to come back so shaken. Something dreadful. Lucerys let his eyes wander to Joffrey’s exposed neck, especially the omega’s gland as he continued to soothe his brother. To his great relief, Lucerys found no redness, no scratches, and no bite marks on Joffrey’s neck. Thank the Seven. At least his worst fear didn't seem to have come true.

When Lucerys woke up just before dawn and found the room empty, he nearly had a heart attack. Joffrey might not like following the rules, but he would never just disappear like this. He was too gentle to make his family worry. Not to mention they were in Dragonstone now, and they had to watch their behaviors carefully because one wrong move was enough to stain their mother’s name. Joffrey, an unmated omega, disappeared for the night and came back with a teary face and disheveled clothes. This was enough scandal to destroy Joffrey’s reputation as well as his brothers’. Jace’s betrothal would also be in jeopardy if the situation was not handled carefully.

“Can you tell me what happened? Where have you been?” Lucerys asked again, this time even more gently. He began to rub Joffrey’s arm, trying to warm up his little brother.

Joffrey sniffed as he tried very hard not to let the tears down. Lucerys’s worry grew because Joff was the toughest of them, always looking out for his older brothers and never showing any weakness, so Lucerys couldn’t imagine what had happened that made him so upset.

“Do you need anything? Tea? I can ring the bell to have some hot tea delivered for us.” Lucerys was about to reach out for the service bell but was stopped by Joffrey’s hand on his forearm.

Joffrey shook his head and whispered a soft no.

“Okay.” Lucerys said as he continued rubbing Joffrey’s arm until the boy stopped shaking. The sun was about to rise, and the Inn maid would come at any minute to tell them that breakfast was ready and Lady Rhaenys was expecting them downstairs. Lucerys didn’t want to make the good lady worry, so he had to make sure Joffrey calm down before their day of social meetings began.

“Any better?” Lucerys asked, brushing some dark curls from Joffrey’s face, revealing the omega’s red-rimmed eyes, “Your eyes are puffy. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? You will feel better with a new change of clothes, I promise.”

“I am sorry, Luke.” Joffrey finally spoke, his voice hoarse from crying.

“You don't have to apologize. I am not blaming you for anything, Joff. I was just worried about what might have happened to you. It’s not like you to disappear without notice. What happened? Who did this to you?” Lucerys had forgotten all about his own discomfort after yesterday’s treacherous journey, for he was too busy comforting his brother.

“Nobody.” Joffrey replied, casting his eyes down, “And nothing happened. Nothing important, anyway. It’s actually good news, you know? I’ve learned that Uncle Aemond isn’t engaged to anyone. He has kept his promise to you, Luke. How wonderful is that?”

Joffrey tried to sound cheerful, but the feigned joviality in his tone only added to Lucerys’s worries.

“What are you talking about?”

“Lady Alicent is hosting the ball to celebrate her son’s betrothal, isn't she? I know you are sad because you think Uncle Aemond has betrayed his words and chosen another mate. You don't have to be, Luke.” Joffrey said, lifting his head, a crooked smile on his lips, “It’s not Aemond who’s engaged.”

Lucerys’s eyes widened at the unexpected news, his lips quivering slightly but he managed to keep his composure eventually. Joffrey hadn’t noticed how pale Lucerys was until now. SHIT. He should have been more considerate instead of just blurting things out. The news must be overwhelming for Luke, especially since he had been through so much.

“Sorry, Luke, I-” Joffrey tried, but was interrupted by his brother.

“Aemond has never promised me anything. We never got that far.” Lucerys said softly, a slight frown on his brow as if admitting the truth would make it real, “I understand your sentiment, Joff, but Aemond is free to choose his own mate. I am not here to accuse him of betraying, you know.”

“You wrote to each other almost every day. Surely he confessed his feelings to you in these letters?” Joffrey took Lucerys’s cold hand in his own and squeezed gently, “You don't have to hide from me, Luke. I am not a fool. I can see things.”

“We wrote about a lot of things in those letters, art, literature, music, history, but never about the future. I always have a feeling that Aemond is reluctant to commit, and I don't want to force him.” Lucerys sighed and squeezed back, “That’s why I was so certain our relationship was over after Aemond left without notice.”

Joffrey couldn't believe what he had just heard. Uncle Aemond had never confessed his feelings for Luke? After following Lucerys around like a lovesick puppy in every ball? Joffrey couldn't help but thought back to the night when Daeron had confessed his love for Joffrey. How ironic. Daeron, who had insisted that he loved Joffrey and wanted to marry him, was now betrothed to another, while Aemond, who had never put his feelings into words, remained free.

“It’s not over.” Joffrey insisted, trying desperately to convince Lucerys. Lucerys deserved the happiness that Joffrey could never have. “Aemond is not engaged. You are both free to choose, and I am sure he will choose you.”

He had to.

“How do you know about this? Is that why you disappeared for?” Lucerys asked, bringing the topic back, “Why did you come back crying?”

“I didn't cry.” Joffrey said lamely.

“Joff.” Lucerys’s voice lowered to a whisper as if he feared someone might hear them, “Tell me the truth. I can smell alpha pheromones on you. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

“I-” Joffrey tried to think of an excuse, but he couldn't find any, “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just needed some fresh air so I decided to take a walk to the courtyard.”

Lucerys sighed heavily. He loved his little brother, and never wanted Joffrey to change, but sometimes Joffrey’s free soul could make things so complicated.

“And? I assume your midnight walk didn't end peacefully.”

“I-I bumped into Sir Gwayne.” Joffrey said, looking down at the carpet to hide his burning cheek, “We were talking when Uncle Daeron and his betrothed emerged from the tavern.”

Joffrey left out a lot of details, such as the fact that Gwayne had clearly had too much to drink and that Daeron had saved him from Gwayne’s advances. Gwayne was all polite and proper when sober, but he couldn't keep his hands off Joffrey last night in the courtyard. His usual fresh scent of forest drizzle became intruding when mixed with the rich scent of wine. Joffrey’s heart skipped a beat when Daeron emerged from the tavern to tell Gwayne off. He was supposed to be angry with Daeron, for the alpha was the one who had convinced Aemond to leave, but all the accusations he had prepared died down the moment his eyes met with Daeron’s violet ones. Joffrey was secretly happy to see his youngest uncle again, until the cruel truth slapped him in the face.

Lucerys didn't need to know. Lucerys didn’t need to know how Joffrey’s world was shattered last night when Daeron’s beautiful bride-to-be leaned her soft body against the alpha. Why was Joffrey so devastated? Why was his stomach tightening? What was the tug on his heart and the lump in his throat? It couldn't be jealous, could it? Joffrey was the one who had rejected Daeron. He had made it clear that he could not return the alpha’s feelings and would never fall for someone so arrogant and inconsiderate. He shouldn't feel anything, right? Then why couldn’t he breathe?

“His betrothed?” Lucerys’s frown deepened, “I didn't know Uncle Daeron was engaged. Why was he here in the first place?”

“I don’t know.” Joffrey replied honestly. He never had the chance to find out what Daeron was doing in the tavern, because he fled the scene like a coward after seeing Daeron and Bethany together.

“Were you with Uncle Daeron the entire night?” Lucerys asked, leaning in to pick up the lingering alpha scent on Joffrey’s gown. He had only met their youngest uncle several times, but Lucerys could tell the scent was not Daeron’s. All Targaryen alphas shared the same undertone in their alpha scents, fire and ashes, but Lucerys smelled something sweeter and less harsh from Joffrey. Lucerys half hoped Joffrey would answer yes, because somehow Lucerys knew Daeron would never hurt his little brother.

“No.” Joffrey said after a long pause, “I, eh, didn’t want to interrupt Uncle Daeron’s time with his betrothed.”

“You were with Sir Gwayne, weren’t you?” Lucerys asked, though his knowing expression indicated that he already knew the answer.

“…yes.” It was impossible to fool his brother, so Joffrey might as well tell the truth.

“Oh, Joff.” Lucerys reached out to cup his brother’s face, “What happened? He didn’t do anything inappropriate to you, did he?”

Did he? Joffrey wasn’t sure. His memory was a little vague. The last thing he remembered was Gwayne dragging him away from the tavern, Daeron’s face slowly fading from his vision. The unexpected news paralyzed him; his mind went blank, his legs gave out and his chest tightened as the air was squeezed out of his lungs. Joffrey couldn’t even stand up straight, let alone walk back to his room on his own. Gwayne was saying something to him, but Joffrey couldn’t hear a thing. He had no idea where Gwayne had taken him or what the alpha did next. The next thing he knew, he was alone in the corridor leading to his bedchamber. Something must have happened. The burn around his eyes and the wet stain on his face showed that he had been crying. There was some dirt on his night gown, but he couldn’t remember where he had gotten them. Joffrey stood there for a long while until the morning chill knocked him awake from the trance. He practically fled back to his room. Fortunately, no one saw him on the empty corridor. At least not that he knew of.

“Tell me, Joff.” Lucerys wiped off some tear stain from Joffrey’s eyes before leaning in to press their foreheads together, “What did Gwayne do?”

“I-I can’t remember.” Joffrey placed his hands around Lucerys’s wrists and squeezed, “He dragged me away from the tavern, and then, then-”

Joffrey paused because he couldn’t think of anything to say. He knew why Lucerys sounded so worried. An unmated omega spending a night alone with an alpha was not only inappropriate. It was scandalous. If word got out that Joffrey and Gwayne had disappeared together for an entire night, Joffrey’s reputation as an omega would be destroyed. He would be seen as tainted, dishonorable, and utterly shameless. There had been cases of such omegas either joining the Silent Sister, or spending their lives in solitude to repent for their sins. Lucerys had even heard of someone committing suicide because of the unkind whispers.

“I can smell some alpha scent from you.” Lucerys said, taking a whiff, “Smells like watery plants. Is this scent Gwayne’s?”

“I guess. He told me his scent was forest drizzle, quite common in House Hightower.” Joffrey’s cheeks burned as he only realized now that his conversations with Gwayne before seemed too intimate.

“I don’t see any swelling on your gland.” Lucerys gently tilted Joffrey’s head aside to expose the younger omega’s neck, “Your neck is clean too. Do you feel any discomfort anywhere? Your lower back, perhaps?”

“No. I don’t feel anything.” Joffrey replied, his ears turning pink as he realized what Lucerys was getting at, “Really, Luke. I would know if someone stuck their dick in me.”

“Seven forbid, Joffrey.” Lucerys sighed helplessly. He knew his little brother had a careless way of speaking, but he didn’t have the energy to deal with Joffrey’s vulgar choice of words now. “This is not a joke. What will they think of mother if someone saw you slipping away at night with Sir Gwayne? What will they think of Lady Rhaenys and Lord Corlys? I can’t even start to tell you what kind of nasty things they will say about us.”

Joffrey bit his lower lip and fell silent. He knew he had made a mistake. He had screwed up. He didn’t think Gwayne had gone any further than groping, but having an alpha’s arm around his waist outside a formal social event was enough of a scandal. He wished he hadn’t been so careless. He wished he had kept his distance from Gwayne, just as he had done with Daeron. He had been so obsessed with Daeron’s attitude at their first meeting that he had failed to notice how Daeron’s gradual change since then. He had been blinded by prejudice that he refused to believe Daeron could change. He had been such a fool. By rejecting Daeron, he had somehow encouraged Gwayne to make advances towards him. The situation right now was all his own doing.

“I am so sorry, Luke.” Joffrey said after a long pause. He might have repeated the same sentence too many times today, but he couldn’t think of another thing else to say except to apologize to his brother. “I am so, so sorry. I will never forgive myself if I ruined your chance to marry Uncle Aemond. Tell me what I can do to repair the damage, please, Luke.”

“Silly.” Lucerys sighed again, this time with so much tenderness, “It’s not about me. I am worried about you and your reputation. You are brave, honest, and loyal, Joff. You deserve someone who loves for who you are. I don’t want you to lose that chance.”

Too late. It had already been lost.

“Never mind. I never want to marry anyway.” Joffrey replied, trying to sound casual, “Perhaps no one saw me out there with Gwayne last night except for Uncle Daeron and his betrothed. As long as they don’t tell, no one will know I didn’t sleep in this room last night.”

Joffrey didn’t know why he was so confident that Daeron would not spread the scandal, but somehow, he just had a feeling that Daeron wouldn’t purposely hurt him. How strange. Daeron had already hurt him by getting engaged to Lady Bethany, but then again, Daeron couldn’t have known how Joffrey would feel about the news. Joffrey himself didn’t know how he would react until he learned about the news. But there was one other person who knew what had happened last night. Sir Gwayne. How could Joffrey be sure that Gwayne would keep this a secret?

Lucerys’s lips moved before he pursed them into a thin line. His soft face slowly turned hard and determined as he made up his mind to protect his little brother no matter what.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? We need to go downstairs to have breakfast with Lady Rhaenys.” Lucerys said, wiping off some traces of tears on Joffrey’s cheek. They didn’t have much time to waste. Lady Rhaenys was a wise and observant lady, so it would take a lot of effort to hide things from her. They needed to come up with a strategy before today’s social arrangements began. In fact, Lucerys was surprised that Lady Rhaenys hadn’t already sent a maid up to check on them.

Joffrey nodded, and followed Lucerys to the vanity. Lucerys poured some warm water into the basin and handed Joffrey a towel soaked in rose water. Joffrey had just finished washing his face when there came a soft knock on the bedroom door.

“Stay quiet. I’ll deal with it.” Lucerys whispered in Joffrey’s ear before hurrying to answer the door.

A maid was standing in the doorway with a tray loaded with food. Joffrey could smell the aroma of tea, freshly baked bread and jam.

“Good morning, my lord. Lady Rhaenys sent me up to bring you breakfast.” The maid greeted Lucerys in a sweet voice.

“Lady Rhaenys? I thought my brother and I were joining her ladyship downstairs.” Lucerys replied, clearly confused. Of course it would be best if he and Joffrey could stay in their room, but he just didn’t understand why Lady Rhaenys had changed her mind.

“I am sorry, my lord, her ladyship just told me to bring the food up.” The maid replied, “May I take the tray inside?”

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you.” Lucerys refused politely, “I can take it from here.”

“Why would Lady Rhaenys let us have breakfast in the room? Does she know something?” Joffrey asked as he slipped into the armchair opposite Lucerys, the breakfast tray between them. He had already changed out of his dirty night gown, now in a clean gown decorated with lace ruffles on the sleeves and collar. Joffrey wasn’t used to wearing delicate clothes like this, but Rhaenyra insisted him bringing the nicest outfit for the journey. The crimson color complimented his complexion and dark curls perfectly.

“I don’t know.” Lucerys shook his head, an equally confused expression on his face. He poured them both some tea, before piling the bread rolls onto a clean plate. After removing several plates from the tray, he noticed a carefully folded piece of paper on the bottom. The paper was tucked under the bread plate, hiding it from the view. Whoever had put it there clearly didn’t want anyone else to notice.

Joffrey noticed the paper as well. Lucerys exchanged a glance with his brother before unfolding it. It was hastily written letter addressed to Joffrey.

“It’s for you.” Lucerys said, handing the letter to Joffrey.

“Me?” Joffrey’s eyes widened in surprise. He rarely received letters at home, let alone here at Dragonstone. Few people even knew he had taken this trip. Who could have written him a letter?

Dear Joffrey,

I hope this letter finds you well. Forgive me for not being able to explain everything to you in person. I fear that all words will escape me once I meet your beautiful eyes. Last night was an accident. I wasn’t informed of your visit, nor did I expect you to stay at this particular inn either. Please believe me that it was not my intention to hide my betrothal from you. Bethany’s father has offered me a job in Old Town and I intend to accept it after the wedding. I wanted to write to you after I left for Old Town. You may not want to hear anything from the man who you have rejected, but I feel I need to let you know why I have made this decision.

As you might already know, my mother is very keen to secure a good match for her sons. Aemond is her favorite and she wants him to inherit the Targaryen fortune. You can imagine how horrified she was when she learned of Aemond’s involvement with your brother Lucerys. She demands that we return to Dragonstone and cut all ties with your family. Aemond refuses, and they had a big argument through letters. Aemond loves mother, but I think he loves your brother more. He made it clear that he would not be her puppet. I have never seen him defy mother like that. I wish I could be as brave as he is. Perhaps that’s why you have rejected me. I am not brave enough to confess my feelings to you sooner. If I could just

Mother wasn’t going to give in so easily, and neither was Aemond. I don’t have the heart to see my brother torn apart like this, so I volunteered to take his place. You would do the same for your brother, Joffrey. I know you would. Your loyalty to your family is what made me fall for you in the first place. Forgive me. You probably don’t want to hear this. Just know that I offered to marry cousin Bethany, so Aemond wouldn’t have to. Since you have made it clear that you will never return my feelings, I might as well make myself useful to ensure your brother’s happiness. I did this for you

I do apologize for leaving so hastily. Mother wanted us back as soon as possible, and both me and Aemond decided that it was better to comply with her on this. Once we are back, mother intercepts all of Aemond’s letters to make sure he cannot write to your brother. I am only able to deliver this letter with the help of Lady Rhaenys.

Don’t worry, dear Joffrey. I only revealed some of the details to her ladyship. I left out Lucerys’s involvement with Aemond, of course, but I suspect she had her own guess. Either way, she’s agreed to help me deliver this letter, and I can’t express how grateful I am. I told her that I bumped into you last night and escorted you back to your room. I think you might want to hide your relationship with my uncle for now. I don’t agree with my uncle on most things, but if it is your choice to be with him, you will have my wholehearted blessing.

I will leave it here. Tell Lucerys to have faith in Aemond. I will see you at the ball.

Yours,

Daeron

Joffrey’s vision blurred. A few teardrops fell from his eyes and landed on the paper, smearing the ink. Joffrey took a deep breath to calm himself before lifting his head again.

“Joff? What is it? Who is this letter from?” Lucerys asked, a deep crease on his forehead.

Joffrey didn’t answer. Instead, he handed the letter to Lucerys.

Lucerys browsed through the letter, his frown deepening as he read on. Aemond didn’t abandon him, which made his heart skip a beat, but the rest of the letter was too surprising to him to focus on himself. Why was Uncle Daeron writing to Joff? Since when did them become so intimate? What was this rejection he wrote about? And what was Sir Gwayne’s role in this?

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Joff.” Lucerys said, putting the letter down.

Joffrey chuckled bitterly. Indeed.

#house of the dragon #hotd #joffron #joffrey velaryon #daeron x joffrey #daeron the daring #abo dynamics #gwayne hightower #lucerys velaryon #lucemond #aemond x lucerys #aemond targaryen

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unabashedcandymaker · 2 years ago

Text

Uncertain 01

Summary: When you find yourself unexpectedly pregnant, your future with your partners starts to feel uncertain.

Natasha x Reader x Bucky

Warnings: Uh, idk, lots of pregnancy talk, lots of doubt, lots of sexy times. It’s shameless, but it is what it is.

Words: 3.9k

Uncertain Masterlist

“Okay, you can do this,” you try to talk yourself up as you stare at your reflection in the mirror of the guest bathroom. “You can do this! They love you! They won’t…It’s not …” you take in a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. Stop being a coward! Stop. Being. A. Cow-” You were cut off by the urge to throw up, yet again, and dove for the toilet.

When you’re sure you're finished, you rinse your mouth out for good measure and chance another glance up to yourself.

Now or never.

Nat and Buck, you’re partners, loves of your life, the most caring and loving people you’ve ever known, they’ll be up by now, probably waiting for you in the kitchen. Both had just come back the night before, back early from being gone all week. Both still blissfully unaware that you were about to turn their lives upside down.

“Okay, champ. Let’s get this over with.”

You clutched one of the dozen white plastic sticks lined up on the sink and made your way out of the bathroom.

Natasha was the first one to greet you as you crossed the threshold into the kitchen. “Good morning sweet girl! Are you feeling ok?” She stood from her seat at the bar, kissing you on the cheek as soon as you were within reach. “We were worried that you weren’t in bed when we woke up this morning.”

Bucky didn’t say much, but you could see the worried furrow of his brow above his coffee mug as he took a long sip.

“I’m good. But, uh, maybe you two should sit down. There’s something I need to say…” you said as you took half a step back and gestured to the couch in the living room. “Please.”

Sharing a quick look, so quick you’d almost missed it, they moved quietly, taking a seat beside each other on the plush couch. You start pacing, keeping yourself separated from them with the coffee table, pacing a line back and forth in the small room. Every several steps, you pause, giving them a meaningful look, even opening your mouth to force the words out, but you can’t. The stick still clutched in your hand still goes unnoticed by the other two.

“Are you breaking up with us?” Nat teases, a smirk ghosting across her lips.

Bucky whips his head towards the red head, then back to you, eyes wide and his whole body tensing.

“Is that it? Do you want to break up?” He asks quietly.

“Fuck. No, of course not. But it’s serious! I’m…shit…well, I’m…” you sigh heavily. “I’m pregnant.” With a huff, you hold out the pregnancy test you’d been white knuckling.

Natasha is on her feet first, leaping gracefully over the coffee table and prying the stick out of your hand with ease.

“You’re sure? This is, this is for real?” She whispers as she examines it for herself. Bucky, who moved so fast, you didn’t process his movements at all, appearing as if out of thin air, is pressed behind Nat, his head nearly resting on her shoulder as his eyes are glued to the little pink plus sign on the test.

“As real as the other dozen I left lying on the sink in the guest bathroom,” you assure them both.

It’s silent. It’s silent for way too long. So long that your skin feels like it's going to crawl right off your body if someone doesn’t say something soon.

And you can’t wait for them anymore.

“Listen, I don’t know how this happened. We’ve always been so careful. I’ve stayed diligent on my birth control, even though we assumed you both were…sterile…and I swear there’s been nobody else…”

“Stop it,” Nat whispers, tears brimming in her jewel green eyes. “Nobody thought…no…nobody thought you’d…” she shudders for a moment before regaining her composure. “We know better than that. Right Buck?”

She looks back at him only to see a blank expression on his face. He’s not looking at her. He’s not looking at you. He’s not even looking at the test anymore, his gaze locked somewhere just beyond, on the carpet beneath his feet.

“Buck?” you whisper, taking a step forward to reach out to him, but he steps back, flinching involuntarily at your outstretched hand.

Your hand immediately falls to your side and it feels like your stomach has turned to lead.

“Bucky…” Natasha admonishes quietly, which pulls him out of whatever trance he’d been in.

His eyes go wide, almost fearful, and then just as fast, they go soft, and then he looks guilty.

“No…I…” he croaks, but shakes his head, as if he can shake off what looks to be an impending panic attack.

“Bucky, this doesn’t have to be anything,” you offer, voice barely a whisper. “We don’t have to let this be anything. I could, I don’t know, I could just…”

“I’m sorry,” he says as he skirts around you and Natasha, so graceful despite his upset. You barely hear the door click over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears as he closes it behind him.

He left.

Fuck.

Oh god, he left. He’s upset. You’ve upset him. You broke him. He’s never going to forgive you for this. You should have known better. Oh god, why did you have to tell them? Wouldn’t it have been so much easier to have taken care of this problem on your own? You shouldn’t have told him. He’s mad. And he should be. You’ve done this to them. You’ve done this to them both.

Natasha has your face in her hands, gently cooing, but you can’t understand what she’s saying.

“...hey, stop it, you did nothing wrong…” her gentle voice breaking through the ringing in your ears.

“Tash…I…” you barely manage to croak out.

“No! You’ve not done anything wrong. These things happen,” she assures you, kissing you gently on the forehead.

You must have been thinking your thoughts out loud.

“But…Bucky?”

“He’s fine. He’s gonna be fine. He’s just…he just needs a little time.”

You aren’t convinced.

He was so upset.

“What about you, sweet girl? How are you? How do you feel? How long have you been sitting with this on your own?” She asks.

“Just, uhm,” a long breath shudders in and out of your chest. “Just today for s-sure, but, uh, it’s had to have been a few days I think. I don’t r-really know.

Your noncommittal shrug must give you away which earns you a pointed glare.

“Maybe a week,” You answer.

She nods. “The whole time we’ve been gone?”

“I didn’t buy the tests until this morning. I wasn’t brave enough on my own.”

“Listen to me, no decisions need to be made right now, right? Just give it a few days, let everyone process. You still need time to process.”

“He’s so upset. I’ve upset him.” you whisper, your hands coming up to hold her wrists.

“No, you’ve not. He’s not upset. At least not with you. This was just…a surprise. A wonderful surprise, but a surprise no less.”

You hadn’t realized you were crying until her thumb swiped a tear from your cheek.

“What do you say we get you in the shower, my love? That might help you feel a little better.” She suggests.

“Yeah, ok, I guess that does sound nice.” You agree, nodding your head slowly.

When she lets go of your face, you hold one hand close, bringing your lips to her palm, kissing it. She smiles so beautifully, then disappears into the bathroom.

She’s only gone for a minute, then she’s in front of you again, helping you undress, just like any other time. You stay quiet, barely sniffling anymore as she strips you, then watch as she bares herself to you. She takes your hand and gently leads you into the shower that is now running hot, the steam billowing up around you.

“I’m sorry,” you finally break the silence.

“Hmm?”

“What if he doesn’t come back? What if I’ve ruined e-everyth-thing?” You admit your fear, screwing your eyes shut as more tears stream down your cheeks.

“No.” She says sternly as she pulls you into her body, your face nuzzled in her neck as she strokes your hair. “You should never be sorry for this. This is a beautiful thing that’s happened, don’t you see that?”

“But what about Buck?”

“He’s scared. But he will come around. He always does, doesn’t he? He just needs a little more time. He’ll be in this with us, 100%.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“But what if he does? Sweet girl, just take a minute to breathe. He’s going to come back through that door, just like he always does. He just needs a little space to process.”

Natasha has always been perfect like that. Always knew exactly what to say. She always knew exactly what to do. You think that’s what made your time together so special, when it’s just you and her. She knows you. Truly and completely.

You live for moments like this with her. Her hands soothing down your back and up into your hair, her steady fingers massaging your scalp so perfectly. She knows how to touch you, where to touch you, when to touch you. Everything with Nat is always perfect.

It must be the same when it’s just her and Bucky, you assume. There’s no doubt that she devotes the same attention and care to both her partners. She always has this magical way of making every moment, every interaction, so unique and exquisite…like you, and only you, get to see this tiny sliver of herself that she saves for you, and only you. It is always in these moments where she is so soft and delicate. And you cherish it. And her.

She washes your hair first, not letting you lift a single finger to help or return the favor. Then, she grabs the special body wash, the one she’d specially ordered from France as an anniversary gift. She uses only her hands, bringing the soap to a rich lather, then starts with your shoulders, down your arms, across your back, and then lingers around your belly.

It’s not like there’s anything there yet, no noticeable change in any way whatsoever, but she slows her movements, lingering just below your navel, where the small cluster of cells that is to be your baby are supposed to be. Her fingers linger there, tracing delicate patterns on your skin. Her touch is so warm and so soft, so distracting that you barely notice she has dropped to her knees in front of you.

“Tash…” you moan.

Then she’s kissing you, from your belly button, and down to your mound. Your release is so close, so alarmingly close, as her tongue dips to your slit and prods teasingly. Her hair is wet and silky slick as your fingers tangle in it.

“F-fuck, baby, I’m gonna-” you choke out as you are throttling closer and closer to your climax.

“That’s it, my love, come for me,” she coaxes, bringing your knee up to prop over her shoulder, opening you up wider for her exploring mouth.

Her fingers part your folds and then she slips two inside you, pushing all the air out of your lungs. She barely has a chance to curl them as she sucks your clit into her mouth, causing your release to crash over you. Waves and waves of white hot bliss thrum throughout your entire body.

She doesn’t let up until you’ve stopped shaking.

Her lips make their way back up your body, not leaving a single inch untouched. When they find yours, you moan as you taste yourself on her. She moves slow, unhurried, gently guiding you back under the stream of water, rinsing off the rest of the bubbles from your body.

“You taste different.” She purrs as she rests her forehead against yours.

You try to touch her too, to let your hands roam down the curves of her body, but she tuts as she brings them back to wrap around her shoulders.

“Please, Tash, I wanna feel you,” you beg.

She moans, your words affecting her just like they always have.

“Yeah, but not here. Let me get you dry and in bed, then I’ll let you do whatever your sweetest little heart desires.”

In a whirlwind of movement, you’re both out of the shower, mostly dry, and tangled up in one another, rolling around on top of your shared, unmade bed. Your hands can’t get enough as they grasp and caress every inch of her flaming hot skin. You dig into her curves, greedily exploring her body as if it were your first time all over again.

But, before you can get between her legs, she’s got you on your back, your hands pinned under hers beside your head, and one thigh slotted between yours. She meets you with a fiery gaze that has you reluctant to even breathe.

“I love you. You and Bucky, you’re my heart. And I need you to know, whatever happens, I’m with you. Always. If it were up to me, which I know it’s not, but if it were, there’s no question…I’d keep this baby.

“I never dreamt I could ever have any of my own. That part of me was taken away so long ago, and I try not to dwell on it, trying to never let myself linger over what was denied me…before I met you. The very first time I ever laid eyes on you, I knew you were it. I could see a future with you…with us, all of us. I saw a family. Not in the traditional sense, but it still would have been so good, because it would have been ours.

“I want this with you. And I have a feeling that deep down, Bucky will too.”

Aaaaand you’re crying.

Your previous attempt at a sexual conquest is forgotten as you cling to her. She settles down beside you, pulling you close, tucking you under her chin. The blankets are brought up and cocooned around the both of you as she holds you just as tight as you are holding on to her.

There’s a dip in the mattress behind you and another warm body is pressing against your back.

Bucky.

He smells of sweat as he nuzzles his head into your shoulder, his nose grazing along the length of your neck before settling into the curve.

One of Natsha’s hands move from your middle and up into Bucky’s hair, carding her fingers through his dampened locks.

“M’ sorry,” he mumbles into your skin, drawing in a shuddering breath. “Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry. I know I’m a moron. I shouldn’t have left you…shouldn’t have froze…I was…I was so fuckin’ scared…still am…I’m gonna fuck this all up, I know it…I’m not gonna be good at this…not at all…but I need you to know, if this is what you want, I want it too.”

You sob as you struggle to roll over, Nat having a good chuckle as she helps you untangle from blanket so you can reach Bucky. She ends up curled around your back as Bucky shimmies his large body down the bed and nuzzles into your bare chest.

Being settled between your two loves, warm and content and safe, you let your emotional exhaustion take over, pulling you into a dreamless sleep.

There’s no way to tell how much time has passed, but when you open your eyes, the golden light of the sun setting outside your window tells you you’ve slept the entire day away. Your body feels heavy and languid, but blissfully satisfied. Sleepily, you reach an arm out to your side only to find that side empty and cool. Your brows furrow, reaching out for the other, finding it warmer, but equally as empty.

There’s rustling around your knees, and as you continue to wake up, you note a heavy pressure between your thighs, and then warm, wet heat scalding you almost from the inside out. With a great amount of effort, you pry your eyes open to see a large mass under the blankets near the bottom of your bed.

“Sh-shit,” you moan as you feel a thick tongue push through your folds.

“Different, right?” Natasha’s muffled voice comes from under the blanket.

Bucky hums in agreement and you can feel it vibrate all the way up your spine, earning another wanton moan to spill from your lips. Hands on your thighs, one warm and calloused, another smooth and cool, is spreading you wide open. Another swipe of his tongue has your back arching off the bed, your hands scrambling to rip off the blanket, reaching to tangle your fingers in his hair.

Natasha crawls up beside you, her fingers caressing the swell of your breast, trailing down over the hardened nipple before pinching it.

“Does Bucky’s mouth feel nice, sweet girl?” She coos in your ear, her lips ghost over your sensitive skin, before she takes your lobe between her teeth.

Your thighs clench and Bucky moans as he spreads them back wide. He released one knee just to bring his fingers to your soaked entrance, teasing one finger inside, and then two. And that’s all it takes to send you careening off the cliff and into your release just as quick as the first time.

“What a sweet girl,” Nat beams proudly, still thumbing one nipple, and then moves to the other.

Bucky is climbing up your body, his scruff tickling all along the way as he places sloppy kisses all over your belly and chest, until he reaches your neck. His mouth is hungry and demanding against the sensitive flesh of your throat, threatening to suck a mark there. His cock is hard as it bobs just above your mound.

With weak hands, you push at his chest, and he automatically falls back on his heels, looking only a little concerned that he might have hurt you. You whip your head to Nat and pull her face to yours, searing her lips with a scorching kiss.

“What do you want, my love?” she asks, your teeth clashing with hers.

“Mmmm, wanna see you ride Bucky’s cock.”

It’s rare you ever take the reins in the bedroom with these two natural dominants, but oh god, for you, and only for you, they’d do anything you asked of them. They might as well have been putty in your hands, the way they bend to your will at any given moment.

Bucky takes your hands that you hold out towards him and pulls you up, pulling you against his chest and plants a kiss to your lips, then lets you push him onto his back where you’d been laying. You straddle his thighs, pulling Natasha with you, her back to your front, and you guide her down onto the thick head of Bucky’s cock. With one hand around her waist, you can feel her breath hitch, just like every single other time either of you try to take his thick length even with proper preparation. But she manages beautifully, just like always.

Your other hand trails down between her legs until you can feel where both of your loves meet each other.

“Tell me, baby, how does he feel?” You whisper in her ear, holding her tight as you roll your hips, then up, then back down, pulling her along with you, until she is settled down on his entire length again.

Bucky’s hands are on her waist, helping her follow your movements. Your fingers dance along her folds until they swipe across her clit, earning a heady moan, her head falling back onto your shoulder.

“How does it feel to have him so deep, baby?” you ask her. She can only shake her head as moans spill from her mouth. “Will you come for me? Both of you? Will you come like this?”

Your voice is soft, and oh so sweet, exactly the way that makes them melt in the palm of your hand.

You roll your hips, again and again, fingers flicking over her clit in time with your movements, speeding up their speed as you start bouncing faster and faster. Bucky has a white knuckle grip on Nat’s hip, looking terribly pained as his back is starting to arch up off the bed ever so slightly. He’s so close, you can see it in the screwed up expression on his face, and you can almost hear his silent prayer for Nat to finish before he does.

You pinch her clit between your fingers and slam your hips down with hers maybe a little too harsh, but it does the trick. Tasha is screaming her release as Bucky groans his own as well.

Holding her shaking body against your own feels as if you also came again.

You ease your fingers from her, moving slowly to bring her down easily. Bucky helps by guiding her up and off his length, his cock falling out of her with a slick ‘pop’. You try to lean to the side, guiding her to lay down with you, but she's too fast. You’ll never know how she moves the way she does, but somehow she has managed to switch places with you, rolling you to the middle as your head hits the pillow, secure between both their bodies.

And it’s nice, feeling them on either side of you. It feels safe. And warm…maybe a little too warm if you were honest, but it was comforting nonetheless.

Arms and legs and hair are all tangled into one large mess as the three of you lay together, not a stitch of clothing between you. The quiet that settles is comfortable, and for a moment, you forget about everything else that happened earlier today.

“Are you ok?” She asks you as she burrows into your sweat damp hair.

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. I think so. What about you?”

“Mmm, perfect,” she answers.

“And you, Buck? Are you ok? I know what you said, but you don’t have to be. If this isn’t the right time, then it’s not the right time.”

Natasha freezes on your other side, but doesn’t say anything.

“Nah, I’m good. Really. Steve knocked some sense into me,” he chuckles, also snuggling into the mattress and you to get more comfortable.

“You mean he kicked your ass for being so stupid,” Nat grumbles, nuzzling deeper into your hair.

“Hey now, he wasn't stupid,” you admonish weakly. “It’s a big deal. This is a potential whole ass brand new human being we are talking about.”

“Nah, she’s right, I was being stupid. I mean, yeah, I’m scared. I’m more terrified of this than I have been about anything else in my entire life. I don’t know how to be a father…I’m barely a good partner, but…” he takes a deep breath and smiles as he releases it. “But as long as I have the both of you, I know everything will be ok.”

“Like I would ever let you fuck this up,” Nat quips, words still muffled as she softly kisses the soft spot under your ear..

You giggle as Bucky blindly swats at Natasha, earning a slap in return. Which quickly escalates to the two of them flailing at each other over your body, hitting each other in a playful manner while you can only lay there and laugh between them.

“By the way,” Bucky adds as everyone calms down again, “Steve says congrats. And that he’ll be exceptionally upset if we don’t name it after him.”

“Oh my god,” Nat groans, earning another peal of laughter from you.

And at least for this moment, your future doesn’t seem as uncertain as before.

Chapter 2

#marvel #winter soldier #captain america #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader x nat #natasha #black widow #pregnant!reader #uncertain

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starsurfacemortalkombat · 1 year ago

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Regressor Johnny w/ CG Kenshi: Nightmares

WARNING: Mentions of abuse, bottle breaking, bad nightmares, child abuse

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Johnny gasped as he sat up in bed, feeling sweaty and cold.

Gosh he hated having bad dreams.

He hated having bad dreams about his Dad.

He hated his Dad.

He hated waking up regressed.

He hated waking up regressed because of his Dad.

He- Crap- He didn't know what to do.

It was dark, and all he could hear was screaming. Shouting. Glass breaking.

He blindly reached beside him, trying to find Kenshi. He was here tonight, he was sleeping beside him.

His Dada could help him, Dada was there for him. Dada could protect him from the loud noises and the bad, bad memories.

"Kenshi!" Johnny whispered, lightly shaking Kenshi's shoulder.

"Hm?" Kenshi hummed, not at all awake.

"Dada? Dada wake up!" Johnny panicked, shaking Kenshi harshly. "Pease wake up!"

"What the-?!" Kenshi gasped, shooting up. He didn't get much time to understand what was happening before Johnny crawled onto his lap and hid in his neck. "Wait- What's going on? What happened?"

"Scary dream!" Johnny began to cry. "It had- Had my Dad and he was yelling and-"

Johnny continued to blubber as he clung onto Kenshi for dear life. Babbling about his nightmare.

There was only once when his Father ever broke a bottle. It was a sparkling cider bottle. Johnny had broken a dish by accident, dropping it when he was trying to put it away.

It wasn't his fault, really. He was too short to actually reach the cabinets at the time. A struggle to even get a plate.

His Dad had gotten furious though, grabbing whatever he was drinking and smashing it against the table. Grabbing Johnny by the shirt collar and threatening him.

It was the first, and one of the only times, his Mom ever really stopped his Dad. Threatening to take him to jail then and there.

His Father never threatened him again with broken glass.

Fists were still mildly common though.

Johnny never really spoke about his family to Kenshi. He spoke poorly of them, hinted to what they did. But it wasn't until Johnny had accidentally dropped a plate one night that he went completely spiraling, begging them not to hurt him, sobbing in the corner as he held his injured hand.

"He's not here anymore, baby," Kenshi whispered, holding Johnny close. "Your okay, he's gone bye-bye now. You'll never see that man again if I can help it."

Johnny shook his head, clutching Kenshi's shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. It wasn't the first time Kenshi had helped either of his lovers with nightmares. Nor the first time they woke up regressed because of it.

He held Johnny close, steadily getting out of bed. He began to pace around the room, bouncing him. He even was able to turn the lights on, which made Johnny a little bit better.

Kenshi continued to tell Johnny that everything was going to be alright. That Dada was here, and Dada would protect him.

He made sure to use a softer tone, needing Johnny to understand that he was going to be okay. There was no more yelling, no more mean words.

The tone difference from the memory vs his now life made Johnny sob harder.

But eventually, his sobs turns into soft cries and hiccups.

"'m sorry," Johnny sniffed. "'m so sorry, Kenny."

"What are you sorry about, Precious?" Kenshi asked.

Johnny's breathing went ragged for a second, choking as if he were to cry again, "W-Woke you up, and ruin your sleep, a-and made you feel scared!"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Johnny," Kenshi said, sitting on the bed. "You were ten, sweetheart. You were put into a terrible situation. You're allowed to look back and feel scared."

"But it happened so long ago!" Johnny coughed, his throat hurt from his crying. "And we no no see him anymore!"

"Just because it happened a long time ago doesn't mean it can't come back as if it were yesterday," Kenshi gently shushed him. "You're allowed to feel scared and upset over scary memories. But you are safe now, Honey. The bad man is gone and he'll never be back here ever again. Do you understand?"

"Mhm," Johnny nodded shakingly.

"Good," Kenshi kissed his forehead. "Can you read the time for me, Precious?"

". . . One," Johnny tried to read the alarm. Numbers were hard, and his vision was slightly blurry from his tears. "One, three."

Kenshi held back a sigh. One? When had Johnny woken him up? 12 something? It was probably about 1:13 or 1:30. Either way, it was incredibly late.

Although he wouldn't force Johnny go to bed just yet if he wasn't able to.

"What'll help you get back to bed, sweetheart?" Kenshi asked, rocking the both of them while they sat.

"No seep!" Johnny shook his head. "No seep, wanna stay up."

"You wanna stay up?" Kenshi asked, feeling Johnny nod hastily. "Alright, we can stay up. Do you wanna cuddle?"

"And play IPad?" Johnny asked hopefully.

Screen time was not 1 something in the morning.

But Kenshi wasn't going to nag about the rules right now.

"Of course we can use the IPad," Kenshi agreed, grabbing the IPad from Johnny's side with the nearby charger.

Johnny went back under the covers, practically forcing Kenshi back into a hug. Kenshi struggled but grabbed the half empty glass of water he had, encouraging Johnny to have some. Kenshi usually had a glass before bedtime, but never really finished it.

Johnny wanted to watch Octonauts, which Kenshi agreed with. They kept the lights on too.

"Dada?" Johnny asked quietly. "Want my teddys."

"Which one?"

". . . All of them?" Johnny looked hopeful.

All of them?

Johnny had . . . a bunch of stuffed bears. It made sense, he owned a bunch of Mortal Kombat merch, quite literally made the franchise. Some of his favorite merch sets were the teddy bears, making one based on every. Single. One. Of. His. Friends.

So there were a ton of bears.

But goodness, Kenshi was willing to find them all if it made Johnny happy.

And so he did, with Johnny's help of course. The boy refused to leave his side anyhow. He wasn't as scared anymore . . but . . .

What if Dada left! Or if Dad came and took him away? Or if Kenshi came back and he started yelling?

Why wasn't he yelling over the fact that all his teddy bears were all over the mansion? Kenshi was always lecturing him about not picking up his toys. Where was the 'I told you so'?

"I think we have them all," Kenshi said, counting all the plushies. "Wait, where's Kenshi Bear?"

"Here," Johnny said, holding the bear tightly, sitting on the bed. "I waiting."

"Waiting for what, 'Hun?"

Johnny wished he hadn't opened his mouth.

". . . For-For you to start yelling 'cause my toys were everywhere and now it's two," Johnny frowned, looking at the bed in shame. "It's late and I woke you and up I so sorry, Dada-"

"Stop, sweetheart, you've gotta stop," Kenshi gently said, kneeling before Johnny and gently grabbing his hands. "You're exhausted, your feelings are everywhere right now. Right now, it's just you and I. No big bad feelings and no big bad yelling, I promise you."

"But Dada-!"

"Johnny baby, it's okay. One, I wanna be here to help you. And two, you're going to be alright. I'm not going to yell or lecture you, I'm not your Father. I'm your Dada," Kenshi reasoned. "It doesn't matter how late it is, or how tired one of us are, you did the right thing coming to Dada for help, okay? Dada wants to help. You've done nothing wrong, Precious."

Johnny tried not to begin crying again, he really did!!

But he did, he began to blubber again, nodding at he tried to pull Kenshi into a hug. Which Kenshi happily accepted, rubbing Johnny's back.

This cry ended sooner. Much, much sooner. Kenshi was right, he did feel incredibly sleepy and his head hurt and his emotions were all out of wack.

Kenshi carried Johnny to the bathroom, wiping his face and filling his cup with sink water. Any water was good right now, and Johnny was so thirsty after crying again and again.

The bed was flooded with plushies. Kenshi tried to push them more towards the end of the bed, but Johnny teared up and insisted that they all stayed near the pillows.

Except for one, Kenshi Bear. The bear that Johnny held incredibly close to him.

"Dada?" Johnny whispered as they were snuggled back in bed. "I wuv you."

"I love you too, Precious," Kenshi smiled, kissing Johnny's hair.

Johnny didn't make it past a full episode. With how tired he was, and Dada scratching his scalp, and rubbing his back, and feeling all warm, and cozy, and safe, how could he stay awake?

Kenshi shut off Johnny's tablet and put it back on Johnny's nightstand. He kissed Johnny's temple and hugged his sweetheart closely.

Tomorrow would be a big conversation.

But tonight? Just some cuddles and love.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Hey guys!! This one and the 'Regressor Syzoth w/ CG Kitana: Broken Cookie Jar' were from my AO3 that I thought I'd put on here. <3

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noona-clock · 5 months ago

Text

Heart of the Ranch - Part 6

Genre: Cowboy!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Some light angst and mild cursing

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 2,750

When you'd gone to sleep last night, your mind had been so occupied with thoughts of Namjoon holding your hand as he led you back to the house through the darkness that you'd totally forgotten about the impending storm he'd mentioned. Plus, you'd always been a particularly heavy sleeper -- you naturally woke up pretty early every morning, but from the time you closed your eyes to the time you opened them? You were out cold. So, it's not like a nasty thunderstorm would've kept you up all night.

But as soon as you set foot downstairs, the feeling that something was wrong was almost overwhelming, and Namjoon's voice saying Those clouds don't look friendly echoed in your mind.

You really weren't sure how you knew -- it wasn't currently storming, and the smell of coffee hung in the air just as it had yesterday morning. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

You could just feel it.

So, instead of stopping in the dining room to make your usual morning caffeine, you headed straight for the front door.

Luckily, you spotted Namjoon putting a saddle on Diego over by the stables.

"Hey," you called out as you headed over there, concern evident in your voice. "Everything okay?"

Namjoon glanced up at you but didn't pause his task for even a second. "Animals are all fine," he answered shortly. "I'm going out to check the fences. It sounded pretty bad last night."

Guilt gnawed at your stomach. You really had no reason to feel guilty, but that didn't stop the emotion from settling over you. You'd slept right through it without a care in the world!

But, then, up until now, you'd never had to worry about something as uncontrollable as the weather ruining your livelihood. The power going out was inconvenient, sure, but storm damage to a ranch could be debilitating.

"Can I help?" you asked breathlessly as you picked up your pace to a jog.

Namjoon's forehead wrinkled at your words, and you could tell he was going to turn you down.

So, you cut him off before he could even say anything.

"Please," you pleaded, coming to a stop next to Diego. "Let me come with you."

He hesitated for another moment before finally nodding his assent. "You get the saddle, I'll get Frida," he murmured.

You didn't even waste time answering him; there was an urgent atmosphere hanging in the air around him, so you simply hurried over to the stable.

After only a few minutes, both you and Namjoon had mounted your horses and were trotting off away from the house. For obvious reasons, you decided not to remind Namjoon that the only riding experience you had was from yesterday so you'd never gone faster than a very relaxed stride. But, honestly, your adrenaline had taken enough that you didn't even think to be nervous about it -- you were only nervous about what damage the storm may have caused.

Thankfully, when you passed the gazebo, you only noticed a few fallen branches here and there. Nothing major, and you were so relieved because it really was a beautiful gazebo. You needed to make a point to go there for a picnic with your friends before you left.

Once you passed the gazebo, your eyes scanned around the ranch as best as you could while you tried to keep up with Namjoon. It was quite a bit harder than it looked, actually. Normally, you were really good at multitasking -- but not when it came to riding a horse, I guess. You found that if you looked around too quickly or looked away for too long, you felt like you were going to fall off. Namjoon was under enough stress at the moment, you didn't want to --

"Whoa!" you cried, noticing that Namjoon had suddenly come to a stop.

Frida slowed immediately, and if she was a car, her tires would have skidded to a halt.

"What --" you began breathlessly, your hands white-knuckle gripping the reins.

But then you saw the reason why Namjoon had stopped.

A huge tree had fallen, and while most of it had landed in an empty part of the meadow, the very top had just barely caught a portion of the fence. But even 'just barely' was enough to completely destroy several of the posts.

"Shit," Namjoon muttered as he swung down from his saddle.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you followed him, sliding off of Frida. But you knew probably the worst thing you could do right now was match his energy. Even though you wanted to express your dismay, you swallowed down your anxiety and said, "We can fix this."

"Yeah, with what money?" Namjoon replied with a sardonic chuckle.

"We can --"

"There is no we," he interrupted, his voice nothing short of annoyed and distressed. "This is my ranch, my problem. You're just a guest here. You'll be gone in a few days, so just -- just stop trying to help, okay? I don't need it."

Obviously, his words hurt. But your emotions weren't the most important here. You knew that if your livelihood was on the verge of collapse, you would lash out at anyone trying to help, too. Wasn't that just human nature?

So, instead of raising your voice and insisting on staying, you simply walked over to him. You put a gentle hand on his arm, and you said, "I'm sorry."

And then you turned to leave without another word.

After riding Frida back to the stable and hanging her saddle back up, you trudged back into the house -- to do what? You hadn't thought that far yet.

Thankfully, as soon as you walked through the door, your choice was made for you. Rachel had just descended the stairs, presumably to go into the dining room for breakfast, but the second she saw you, her forehead wrinkled.

"Hey," she greeted, reaching out toward you. "Everything okay?"

You let out a deep sigh and walked into her embrace.

"Oh no, what's wrong?" Rachel asked as she wrapped her arms around you and patted your back comfortingly.

You took in a breath to start explaining the situation to her... but you found you could only let out yet another deep sigh.

"All right, come on," Rachel murmured, grasping your shoulder and moving to lead you into the cozy sitting room. She sat you down on the loveseat across from the fireplace, taking the spot next to you and grasping your hands. "What's going on?"

For some reason, the first thing that came out of your mouth was, "Am I crazy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I met this guy, like, two days ago," you explained. "He didn't ask for my help. Am I crazy for trying?"

When Rachel's confused (and concerned) expression didn't change, you continued.

"There was a storm last night, right? And it knocked over a huge tree, and it got some of the fencing. Obviously, I told him we can fix it and figure something out because -- of course we can. But he got upset and snapped at me because I'm just a guest here, and this really isn't my problem to worry about. And... Yeah, I know he's right. Objectively, I know he's right. But I can't help it. I want to fix it for him."

Rachel squeezed your hands and, after a few thoughtful moments, said, "No, of course you're not crazy. You've always been this way. You're a helper, and I don't think you've ever met a problem you didn't want to tackle head-on."

"But why am I so intent on helping him?"

"...You've seen him, right?"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. "Well, yes, but you know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean," Rachel assured you. "But I don't think you're the problem here. Or, at least, you're not the only problem."

You quirked an eyebrow at your friend and said, "Explain."

"It kind of seems like Namjoon might have trouble accepting help. I mean, the guy has let this place flounder for how long? He's been the only one working here for how long? Instead of just, oh, I don't know -- reaching out to the previous owner? His friends? His family? Anyone?"

"...You have a point."

"So, yeah, maybe you're being a little pushy -- that's a big maybe because you're perfect. But he's also being a little stubborn. Letting his pride get in the way."

You couldn't lie: you'd been guilty of that a few times in your life, too. You couldn't blame him one bit for wanting to do things without any help.

But no matter how you looked at it, he needed help with this ranch. Even if it wasn't yours.

Of course, you wished it would be yours. You were here, after all, and you were more than willing.

"...So, what should I do? I don't want to push anymore than I have, especially since he seemed like he didn't really want to see me right now."

Rachel's head jerked back, and she frowned deeply at you. "That's not the Y/N I know and love," she said. "Worried about if someone -- a man -- wants to see you? Who cares about what he wants?! He needs your help, and you're going to give it to him. He may be stubborn, but something tells me he's got nothing on you."

Her words brought tears to your eyes, and you couldn't stop yourself from sliding your hands out of her grasp so you could pull her into a hug.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice just slightly tight with emotion. "What would I do without you guys?"

"Eh, you'd be fine," Rachel replied, though she squeezed you tightly.

You pulled back then, moving your hands to her shoulders and shaking your head. "No, I don't think that's true at all."

It took you almost no time at all to pull yourself together and head right back to the front door. Rachel's pep talk and hugs had not only comforted you, but they had renewed your sense of purpose -- as cheesy as that sounds.

You almost jumped as soon as you stepped onto the porch because Namjoon had just come to a stop on Diego at the stable. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, honestly.

"Namjoon," you called, repeating the scene from earlier this morning by jogging out to meet up with him.

He didn't answer you, but you hadn't expected him to. You had just had an uplifting heart-to-heart with one of your best friends, but you were pretty sure he hadn't.

"Just hear me out," you pleaded, a bit breathless once you reached him. "Please. ...Actually, no. I'm not requesting or asking for permission. You're going to hear me out."

Your words had the intended effect, and Namjoon stopped taking Diego's bridle off. His eyebrows knit together, and he turned to look at you as if you'd gone off the deep end.

And, to tell the truth, maybe you had.

"You need help," you began, stepping close to him and reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.

God, his arm was as hard as a rock.

"Yes, you are strong and smart and more than capable. But even the strongest, smartest, most capable person in the world couldn't run this place by themselves forever. Not without help. And I understand that it's hard to ask for and accept help -- trust me, I get it! I'm stubborn, too! But what happens if you tell me not to help you? What happens if you turn me down?"

You gazed at him expectantly, eyebrows raised as you let your question sink in.

(And in the back of your mind, you were freaking out that he hadn't shook your hand off his arm.)

After a few fraught minutes, Namjoon let out a soft sigh. "...I know," he admitted, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you called his name. "I just..."

When he didn't finish his thought, you stepped an inch or two closer. "You just what?" you pressed.

"I just can't stop asking why. Why you want to help me so much."

"I told you --"

"No, besides all that. What you said yesterday makes sense, but... I don't know. I just feel like there's something else."

...Well, he wasn't wrong. And if he was going to pluck up the courage to accept your help, then you would pluck up the courage to tell him why you wanted to.

"There is something else," you admitted. "Everything I said yesterday was the truth. I am a problem-solver by nature, and I suppose I always will be. But... I also just want to help you. I want to spend time with you. I like being around you and learning things from you. I like how the smell of pine will always make me think of you. I want to help you because I hope it will make you smile, and your dimples just might be the cutest thing I've ever seen."

You weren't surprised that Namjoon shifted his gaze as you spoke, but you were surprised when you noticed his cheeks flushing with a tinge of pink.

Did that mean...?

"I don't want to make things awkward," you continued, wanting to see how he would respond to that. "But --"

"You won't," he interrupted softly.

A smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned over to catch his eye. "I won't what?"

Namjoon grinned in embarrassment, and you almost squealed when you saw his dimples appear.

"You won't make things awkward," he clarified, just barely meeting your eye.

"Hmm, I don't know, they seem kind of awkward right now," you teased. "You're barely looking at me."

"Stop," he chuckled.

But then he took a step closer to you. He lifted his gaze to meet yours, and your faces were just inches away from each other.

For a split second, you thought maybe he was going to kiss you.

But then he said, "My dimples are cute?"

"Very," you replied, your voice soft and smiling. "Dimples are my Kryptonite, and at this moment, I can't think of anyone else who has cuter dimples than you."

"Probably because I'm standing right in front of you," he murmured.

"Good," you declared. "I've decided that's where I like you best."

Namjoon blushed again, and you had to fight the urge to request a rideshare to the nearest town to buy a journal just so you could write about how you made Namjoon blush twice in the span of five minutes.

"So, you'll let me help you?" you prodded as you stealthily caught his fingers in yours.

"Yes, of course," he answered without hesitation. "I just -- What are we going to do?"

"Oh, don't worry, I already have an idea. Have you ever seen Schitt's Creek?"

"...Excuse me?"

"There's an episode --"

"Ah, it's a TV show."

"Where they have a party in a barn, and I think we should do that, but we'll make it a fundraiser. Invite everyone in town, everyone you've ever known here."

Not for the first time today, Namjoon's forehead wrinkled, and you could tell he was about to turn you down -- or at least express his skepticism.

"You've lived here since you were in school, right?" you asked.

"Longer," he answered. "Born and raised."

"You're telling me you don't think that people who have known you for your entire life wouldn't want to help out your ranch?"

"I didn't say that!"

"But you were going to!"

Namjoon pursed his lips... but he didn't refute you.

"Just trust me on this, okay?" you assured him, squeezing his fingers. "I know we just met a couple of days ago and we barely know each other... but just trust me."

Your heart began to pound as Namjoon scanned your face intently, taking in every single inch. And then his brow furrowed, and he murmured, "Maybe I'm crazy, but... I do."

The fact that both of you were wondering about your sanity brought a grin to your face, and you said, "If you're crazy, then so am I."

A soft laugh escaped Namjoon's lips, but then he did something so awful yet so breathtakingly wonderful. He stepped up to you, too close for you to see those dimples you adored so much, and slid his arms around your waist, enfolding you in a hug.

If the price of having to only imagine his dimpled smile was being in his embrace? You'd gladly pay it.

Part 7

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts au #namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon au #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop au #namjoon x you

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void-botanist · 26 days ago

Text

Writing patterns tag

Premise: List the first lines of your last 20 or so stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

@vacantgodling tagged me for this and I'm going to follow his lead and do some chapter opening lines along with scene/story opening lines, based on what I've been working on so far this year.

Nicea chapter 1: Declan stifled a yawn as TRANSMISSION IN PROGRESS appeared as a banner on his console screen.

Nicea chapter 2: Spinder pushed past the glass doors of the transit hub into the chill air of one-in-the-morning Salles City.

Nicea chapter 3: Isabel cracked her eyes open.

Nicea chapter 4: (technically not the first line but I haven't written the actual first line yet) He flipped through old requisition forms, positioning his view so that he could see the whole header and the whole message at once to filter down to the right date.

Nicea chapter 5: When Spinder surfaced from his dreams the light coming through the crack between the curtains was searing.

Nicea chapter 6: Tristan glanced between Rodney and the obscenely thick stack of papers in front of him.

Fallen chapter 1: The sun-warmth of Heaven siphoned itself off his back as he stepped into the Neutral Zone.

Fallen chapter 2: When he woke up, every bit of him was still tinged with ache, but he felt strong enough to continue on to the next shrine.

Derelict Corridors chapter 1: Please confirm your intentions upon receipt.

Derelict Corridors chapter 2: Earl’s eyes drifted open to a feeling of red.

Angst prompt scene from CM: Colin stopped pacing to press the sides of his hands to his forehead like he was too angry to even look at Sid.

Pre-AOM Sorian meets Leon: Sorian rapped two knuckles against the doorframe and Professor Standing looked up from his work.

Pre-AOM after Sorian meets Leon: Leon waited until that Shank character must be long gone—and it really was waiting, because as soon as he turned back to his expense report, he knew he wouldn’t be finishing it today.

OCKiss day 1, Naneb: The branch Donovan had just snipped from the courtyard’s kaesuri tree dropped to the ground right as he heard someone start crying.

OCKiss day 2, After Sunset: "Daddy?"

OCKiss day 3, Icky: As Anni patted the blanket in around Dez’s contours, she realized this was just like tucking in Bran when they were kids, except Bran would chat with her the whole time.

OCKiss day 4, Void: It was one of those darkness periods where Martina did more staring out the hallway windows than sleeping.

OCKiss day 5, Conservative: Thade was almost finished with the news and his sandwich in the dining room when he felt a presence slide up to the end of his booth table.

OCKiss day 6, Alive: In the hallway, Anchesh pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

OCKiss day 7, Victory: The Nebulae and the Geese were tied, a flurry of black-and-purple and white-and-yellow on the asphalt as the third period clock ticked down to the last seconds.

I'm honestly not surprised that a lot of these start with people waking up. In Nicea, the crew gets back late from a shipping job because having them return to their planet right at the beginning of the story lets me present a whole lot of worldbuilding on the page without it feeling stuffed in, plus it's fun to see how differently they each handle the post-run sleep of the dead. In Fallen and Derelict Corridors the waking up part underscores how Jerry and Earl are now in wildly different situations and it's kinda disorienting. But what I really think is interesting is that only one of these starts with dialogue. I really do like to set the scene first, or start with something introspective.

Favorite opening line: When Spinder surfaced from his dreams the light coming through the crack between the curtains was searing.

This one's probably the strongest on its own rather than as a stepping stone into the rest of the story. And this is exactly my experience of sleeping in hotels lol.

I'll tag @sunset-a-story, @multi-lefaiye, @omniblades-and-stars, and whoever wants to join in!

#I have actually written a decent amount this year. huh #rose writ #writing patterns tag #tag games

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hexpea · 6 months ago

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Ch. 29 - Baby's Breath In many cultures, baby's breath is given to new mothers for good luck, hence its name. The flower usually symbolizes purity, innocence, hope, and new beginnings. AN:TW: Emetophobia

You woke up with a jolt, your stomach churning violently as waves of nausea washed over you. Clutching your abdomen, you stumbled out of bed, barely making it to the small, plastic trash can at the corner of the room before your body revolted, expelling its contents into the tiny receptacle. You groaned in misery, tears stinging your eyes as you heaved, feeling utterly drained and miserable.

The sound of your retching echoed in the quiet room, drawing Naoya from his slumber. With a grunt, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he glanced toward you kneeling in the corner at the trash can with bleary eyes. "Y/N? What the hell's going on?" He mumbled.

You winced as another wave of nausea washed over you, your body trembling with the effort to keep yourself upright. You held your hair back with one hand, your knuckles turning white from the strain as you tried to steady yourself. "I-I'm okay," you managed to choke out between dry heaves, your voice strained and hoarse.

You stumbled as you stood up and sat on the edge of the bed. Naoya's brow furrowed with concern as you sat down, groaning. Could it be Daisuke? Had that bastard done something to poison you? He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides as anger boiled within him. Despite your cursed technique, he couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that Daisuke had done something somehow. If anyone would know your weakness, it'd be your own family.

"Y/N," he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay? Did someone do something to you?"

You paused, your hand clutching your stomach as your body continued to churn. You shook your head weakly, not wanting to think about anything. "I don't know," you refused to think in such a state, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Naoya's eyes narrowed with determination, his arrogance shining through as he vowed to protect you at all costs. "I'll get that asshole, I'll kill him," he declared, his voice dripping with venom as his grip tightened on your shoulder.

As you stayed behind to sleep, Naoya got up to get ready for his day, spending most of it getting ready for that evening's meeting. Even after you woke up, you lingered behind, your mind racing with the possibility of being pregnant. You held your stomach gently, feeling a strange mixture of anxiety and hope swirling within you. Could it be possible that fertility doctor was wrong, and it was Naohiro who was infertile all along?

You paced the room, your thoughts consumed by uncertainty. Eventually, you decided that you couldn't ignore the possibility and that you needed to know for sure. You decided to sneak out to a convenience store to find a test. Quickly, you gathered your things and slipped out of the estate, careful not to draw any attention. The streets were still relatively quiet for a Tuesday morning. You hurried along, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation and dread.

Finally reaching a convenience store, you made your way toward the aisle with family planning, your hands trembling slightly as you chose one of the random pregnancy tests from the shelf. The box felt heavy in your hands. You thought you'd be doing this for Naohiro, not for Naoya -- a thought that pressed on you. Standing in line, you could feel the eyes of the cashier on you, the feeling of judgement as they scanned the item. The minute you paid, you hastily made your way back to the estate.

Once back home, you locked yourself in the bathroom, your hands shaking as you opened the box and followed the instructions for the pregnancy test. Minutes felt like hours as you waited for the results, your heart pounding in your chest unlike anything you'd felt before. When the timer on your phone went off, you held your breath and picked up the test, your eyes scanning the vague results.

And then, you saw it. Two unmistakable lines staring back at you, confirming your worst fears and your deepest hopes all at once. Tears welled up in your eyes as you sunk to the floor, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions.

You're pregnant.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you grappled with the enormity of the situation. There was joy in the possibility of new life but it mingled with the fear of an uncertain future, especially considering Naoya's deteriorating health. How could you bring a child into the world where their father might not live to see them grow up? The memory of Naohiro, your lost love, haunted you, reminding you of the life you envisioned with him, a life that now seemed like a lost dream. How could you move forward when your heart still yearned for what could've been?

But then, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, Naoya's words echoed in your mind, a chilling reminder of the desperate plan he had proposed weeks ago as a mere joke. The idea of using a pregnancy to buy time, to delay the inevitable confrontation with your family flickered to life in your mind like a twisted beacon of hope. It was a temporary solution, a dangerous gamble, but in your desperation it seemed like the only option. With a newfound sense of purpose, you wiped away your tears and composed yourself, steeling your resolve to go find your uncle. You had to tell him the truth about your pregnancy, to see if that would buy you the time that you wanted to figure things out.

You approached the garden where you found Daisuke meandering among the colorful plants on display around the koi pond, surely missing his own bonsai back home. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and approached him cautiously, your heart pounding with anticipation.

"Daisuke," you called out, your voice trembling slightly as you drew closer. "We need to talk."

Daisuke turned to face you, his expression darkening with disdain as he regarded you with cold, calculating eyes. "What could you possibly have to say to me, Y/N?" He scoffed with contempt. "It's too late for you."

You felt a surge of desperation welling up within you as you struggled to find the right words to convey the urgency of the situation. "I...I know," you stammered, your voice quavering with emotion. "But...there's something you need to know... Something I didn't say then...that's important."

Daisuke's eyes narrowed with suspicion, his patience wearing thin as he regarded you with growing impatience. "What is it, then?" He demanded, his voice sharp and unforgiving.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for his reaction as you blurted out the words, "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Daisuke's eyes widened in shock, his features contorting with both disbelief and fury. "What did I tell you, Y/N?" He hissed as his hand lunged toward you with menacing intent.

Before you could react, Daisuke's hand lashed out with lightning speed, the back of his hand connecting with your cheek with a brutal force that sent you sprawling to the ground. Pain exploded across your face as you cried out in agony, the sting of the blow searing through you like a white-hot fire. From afar, on the outer walkway of the estate, Naoya watched in horror as the scene unfolded before him. His eyes widened at the sight of you being struck down by your uncle. With a guttural cry of rage, he stormed toward the two of you, his every instinct screaming at him to protect the woman he loved at all costs.

"Kamo!" He bellowed, his voice filled with a primal fury as he closed the distance between you in quick, determined strides. "Don't you lay a hand on her!"

Daisuke turned toward Naoya, opening his mouth to speak with a smirk. But Naoya didn't give him a chance to utter a single word. With a primal roar, he closed the remaining distance between them in a blur of motion. In an instant, his hand latched onto Daisuke's montsuki, the fabric crumpling under his grip as he effortlessly hurled Daisuke to the gravel below.

The impact knocked the wind out of Daisuke, his body crashing against the ground with a sickening thud. Before Daisuke could even comprehend what was happening, Naoya was on him, his fists raining down upon your uncle with a ferocity that bordered on savage. Your voice echoed in the background, a desperate plea for Naoya to stop, but he was consumed by a rage that refused to be quelled. Blow after blow, Naoya unleashed his pent-up fury upon Daisuke, each punch fueled by weeks of frustration and contempt. Daisuke's face quickly became a mess of blood and bruises, his consciousness slipping away with each punching strike. Naoya showed no mercy, his onslaught relentless as he continued to pummel your uncle into submission.

Suddenly, a sharp, gut-wrenching cough interrupts the chaos, ripping through Naoya's chest with a force that sent him reeling. He stumbled backward, his hand instinctively clutching at his chest as he doubled over in agony. Your cries of concern were drowned out by his agonizing coughs, each one more violent than the last. Blood mingled with cherry blossom petals that spilled from his lips as he fell to the ground, lying on his side in front of you.

Despite the searing pain that coursed through him, he couldn't stop coughing, his body convulsing uncontrollably as he struggled to draw breath. With a trembling hand, he reached out toward you, his eyes filled with anguish and resignation. You rushed to his side, your hands trembling as you cradled his head in your lap, your heart breaking at the sight of his suffering. Tears blurred your vision as you watched helplessly, your fingers brushing away the crimson-stained petals that littered his chest. His face was bright red, blood and spit coating the corners of his mouth. The veins in his neck viciously protruded with each of his coughs.

Jinichi emerged from one of the shoji doors, drawn by the commotion echoing through the estate. His expression remained stoic, his icy gaze sweeping over the scene before him with a detached curiosity. But as he saw Daisuke unconscious and Naoya coughing violently on the ground, blood and petals staining his chest, a flicker of concern flashed across his normally impassive features.

"Naobito!" Jinichi called out urgently back toward the estate, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. "Get that damned doctor, now!"

Naobito, who had been nursing a drink in the nearby tea room, stumbled out in annoyance, his usual drunken stupor interrupted by the urgency in Jinichi's voice. He frowned in irritation, his bleary eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene before him.

"What's all this racket about?!" Naobito slurred, his voice thick with irritation. "Can't a man have a moment's peace in his own home?"

Jinichi's gaze hardened as he gestured toward Naoya, who was still writhing in agony on your lap. "Look at your son, Naobito," he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. "He's coughing up blood. Get Kikuchi here now, before it's too late."

Naobito's brow furrowed with confusion as he stumbled forward, his drunken haze slowly clearing as he registered the seriousness of the situation. With a grunt of annoyance, he fumbled for his phone, dialing Dr. Kikuchi's number with clumsy, fat fingers. Meanwhile, you looked up at Jinichi with tear-streaked cheeks, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the words to explain.

As Naoya's eyes rolled back and he slipped into unconsciousness, your heart clenched with fear and despair. You brushed back his hair gently, whispering words of reassurance even as a few stray tears began to stream down your cheeks. "Hang on, Naoya," you murmured, your voice choked with emotion. "You're going to be okay. Just hold on..."

But your words were lost in the chaos as Dr. Kikuchi arrived with one of his nurses in tow. The doctor quickly assessed the situation between Naoya and Daisuke, his expression grave as he knelt beside Naoya. "We need to get him inside...now," he declared urgently. He gestured to his nurse, a young woman with a determined look in her eyes. "Help me lift him," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The nurse nodded, her jaw set with determination as she joined Dr. Kikuchi at Naoya's side. Together, they carefully lifted him from your lap, their movements gentle yet efficient as they carried him toward the estate. As you hurried with them, you glanced back at Daisuke, who was also slipping into unconsciousness on the ground. A surge of anger and frustration coursed through you at the sight of him lying there helpless, leaving him with Naobito and Jinichi.

You followed Dr. Kikuchi and his nurse into the estate and into your bedroom. There, a very winded-looking nurse stood with medical supplies that Dr. Kikuchi had brought. As Kikuchi and the nurse worked diligently to stabilize Naoya, you stood by, feeling helpless yet determined to do whatever you could. The sight of him, unconscious and being hooked up to medical equipment, filled you with a sense of dread and urgency. You watched as Kikuchi carefully administered the oxygen and prepared the necessary medications to help ease Naoya's suffering.

The room felt tense as Dr. Kikuchi focused intently on his task. With precise movements, he began the process of intubation, guided by years of experience and training. He and the two nurses worked together to stabilize Naoya. Each moment felt like an eternity, your heart thundering in your chest as you watched with frantic curiosity. Finally, with a sense of relief, you watched as Naoya's vital signs began to steady. The rhythmic beeping of the machines provided a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos.

Dr. Kikuchi turned to you, his expression grave yet compassionate. "He's stable for now, but he's going to need constant monitoring," he explained, his voice tinged with concern. "Naoya requested me to tell you that if his condition doesn't improve within two weeks, he be taken off of any life support."

You blinked incredulously and swallowed hard. Naoya had so easily accepted his fate? The last time you'd spoken about it, he said that he wasn't going to let some silly flowers kill him. Why the sudden change of heart? The reality of Naoya's condition sunk in. Two weeks. Just fourteen days to determine the fate of the man you'd come to care for, the father of your unborn child.

"Thank you, sensei," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you tore your gaze away from Naoya to acknowledge him. Every fiber of your being ached with the enormity of the situation.

Dr. Kikuchi then hurried away to go tend to your uncle. With a heavy heart, you knelt by his side, your hand reaching out to gently brush his cheek. His skin still felt warm beneath your touch. You swallowed back the lump in your throat, fighting to keep your emotions in check as you gazed up at him, his face obscured by the tubes and wires that tethered him to the machines.

"Naoya," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Your heart clenched painfully as you watched him, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with the assistance of the ventilator. The sight of him in such a vulnerable state broke you in a way you never thought possible. You reached out and brushed back his hair gently, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead as you silently prayed to whatever deity was listening for his recovery. You turned away for a moment, stepping out of the room, and got out your cell phone to dial Naoya's mother.

After a few rings, Mizuki's voice answered on the other end, her tone filled with warmth and concern. "Hello? Y/N, is that you?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the words to convey the gravity of the situation. "Nakamura-san, it's Naoya. He...he's been intubated," you managed to choke out.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a heavy silence as she processed your words. "Oh, my poor boy," she finally whispered. "Thank you for letting me know. I'll be there as soon as I can, no matter what Naobito says."

Relief washed over you at Mizuki's response, grateful she decided to come and see her son even if he was in a coma. "Thank you, Nakamura-san," you murmured, your voice breaking as you glanced over at Naoya lying on the bed from your point of view from just outside the door, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. "He needs you."

After thanking Mizuki and ending the call, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before reentering the room. You knelt once more at Naoya's bedside. You reached out to gently squeeze his hand, silently willing him to wake up and assure you that everything would be alright.

As you watched over Naoya, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. Recalling your first day at the Zenin estate, the bet you and Naoya made during his little 'tour' you mumbled quietly, "I don't want to win the bet anymore..." You no longer cared about winning, about outlasting Naoya in this 'farce' of a marriage; all you wanted was for Naoya to recover and for your child to have a chance at a future with their father.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. You turned to see Daisuke standing there, his face now covered in bruises and butterfly stitches adorning his eyebrow. Anger flared within you at the sight of him.

"What do you want, Daisuke?" You demanded, your voice laced with contempt and defiance.

Daisuke's gaze hardened as he met your eyes, his expression unreadable. "You're coming home," he declared, his tone firm and commanding. "Start packing your bags. It's already been arranged with Naobito. We're not staying for this damned meeting."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed his words. The last thing you wanted to do was return to the Kamo estate, especially now that you were carrying Naoya's child. You refused to let Daisuke and your father dictate your life any longer. Hell, you were supposed to be excommunicated, right?! You stood up and squared your shoulders with him, determination burning brightly in your eyes as you met his gaze head-on.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Daisuke," you retorted defiantly. "I'm staying here to take care of Naoya."

Daisuke's jaw tightened at your defiance, his eyes narrowing with anger. "You don't have a choice in this matter, Y/N," he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. "Naobito already made the arrangements. You will come back with me, whether you like it or not."

You stood your ground, refusing to back down in the face of his threats. "I'm not leaving Naoya," you insisted firmly.

Daisuke growled as his hand darted forward, gripping your upper arm roughly as he yanked you closer. You winced in pain, feeling as the bruises began to form under his fingers. "You are coming back with me to the Kamo estate where we can deal with your..." he glanced down at your stomach, "parasite."

The room spun around you and you felt a wave of nausea wash over you, the disbelief of Daisuke's command settling in. Your legs felt like jelly and you stumbled backward, your hand instinctively moving to protect your stomach. The color drained from your face as the gravity of the situation settled in.

Daisuke's eyes narrowed with satisfaction as he watched your reaction, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "Now, pack your bags," he ordered. "We're leaving."

As Daisuke turned and left the room, you remained by Naoya's side for a moment longer. Despite all of the chaos, you felt a sense of calm as you watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, reassured by the rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring his vital signs. Eventually, you pushed yourself to your feet to begin packing. You didn't want to cause any more drama than needed. You started with your clothes, gathering them from the closet, the built-in cabinets, and the dresser drawers. You told yourself you'd stay until his mother arrived to ensure her safety from Naobito, then go back to the Kamo estate with your father and Daisuke after that evening's meeting concluded.

While packing your things, you reached into one of the dresser drawers and felt your fingers brush against a small envelope tucked away in the back. Curiosity piqued, and you pulled it out, your heart skipping a beat as you saw your name scrawled across the front in his familiar, albeit scratchy, handwriting. With trembling fingers, you carefully opened the flap to the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. As you unfolded it, your eyes widened in surprise, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of the words written on the page. It was a love letter, unlike anything you'd expect from a man like him. You began to read his chicken scratch carefully:

"My Dearest Y/N,

I know I said this was the last thing I'd ever do. It's not really my thing to pour my heart out like this, but recent events have made me realize that life's too short for pride and all that crap. So here goes. Since we met, you've been on my mind more than I care to admit. Your strength, your spirit, and even your stubbornness, they've all gotten under my skin in a way I never expected. Even when I'm being a pain in the ass, you've always been patient, and for that, I'm grateful. I know I've been a bit of a jerk at times and that's putting it lightly, I know, but being around you has shown me a side of myself I didn't know existed. You softened my edges, made me see things differently, and for that, I owe you more than I can say. If anyone could've changed me, of course it would've been you. I've never been good with words, and I'm probably making a mess of this, but I need you to know that I care about you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. You've become a part of my life in a way I never expected, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I can see why my brother was so head over heels for you. I know we've had our ups and downs, but I wouldn't trade any of it. I hope that you can forgive me for the things I haven't apologized for. If you're reading this, it probably means that I'm dead. Or at least more than halfway there. But I want you to know that I love you. And I'm glad that I was able to spend my last few weeks with you. So yeah, that's about it. I'm not sure what the future will be like; I'm not even going to be there to see it, but I wanted you to know how I feel. Take care of yourself, okay?

With all my messed-up heart, Naoya"

As you read the letter, tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the words on the page as the droplets hit the paper. You couldn't believe what you'd read -- Naoya, the man you'd come to know as an arrogant, closed-off asshole was pouring his heart out to you in a way you never thought possible. Sure, he had wound up confessing when he was still conscious, but this was a whole other level for him. The man actually had a way with words, miraculously enough. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, filling you with a bittersweet sensation.

You carefully folded the letter, your hands trembling as you held the paper close to your heart. Emotions churned within you, a tumultuous storm of conflicting feelings threatening to overwhelm your fragile resolve. How could you suddenly start feeling something for Naoya? You'd promised yourself to Naohiro entirely, even in death... You couldn't possibly...

With a heavy heart, you pulled your luggage to the front of the estate. Each movement felt like a betrayal. You were preparing to leave the man who'd so passionately confessed his feelings for you on his death bed simply because your now estranged uncle requested you to. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were making a mistake. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Naoya and the letter he'd written. Despite his aggressive and stoic facade, he'd bared his soul to you in a way that you never thought possible. He'd shown a side of himself that you'd never seen before, and it stirred something within you, something you could no longer ignore.

As you stood there, waiting for an attendant to come and help you get your bag into Daisuke's BMW, the realization washed over you like a tidal wave. You were in love with Naoya. The self-admission left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to come to terms with the truth. You wiped the tears from your eyes as you stared down at the suitcase at your side, your mind consumed with doubt and uncertainty. You felt completely torn between your loyalty to Naohiro and your growing affection for Naoya. How could you choose between them? How could you betray one brother for the sake of the other? You were paralyzed by indecision.

You knew that you couldn't leave Naoya in the state that he was in. With a sense of determination burning within you, you abandoned your suitcase and began to run back toward the bedroom. Your heart raced faster than necessary as you navigated to where Naoya was. Your mind filled with the memories of the past few months. Despite your initial reluctance to admit your feelings, you knew then that they were real, that they were undeniable.

Dates: July 24, 2018 - Y/N confirms her pregnancy and Naoya's illness begins its final stage.

#naoya zenin #zenin naoya #naoya zenin x y/n #zenin naoya x y/n #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin x you #zenin naoya x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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yourimagines · 2 years ago

Text

Done

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: Violence, Swearing, Stalking behaviour.

Y/N POV

Rafe was on his way to pick me up. I went out with some friends but they left me alone. I really didn’t want to call Rafe but he’s the only person I thought about. I looked at my phone and saw Rafe texted me.

Rafe: I’m here

I looked around and saw his car parked in the distance. I walked up and got in the car. Rafe didn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at me. “Thank you for….” “Just stop talking please.” He said while his hands are gripping the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. “Sorry..” I fasten my seatbelt and kept quiet. He was mumbling to himself while he drove us to his place. I didn’t dare to look at him so instead I looked outside my window. He parked the car in front of the house and walked directly into the house, leaving me behind. I run after him trying to keep up. “Are you mad at me Rafe?” As I followed him into the kitchen. He turned around, madness was consuming him. “I’m mad, but not at you baby, you are to precious to be mad at.” He was pacing around. “You know, I didn’t trust them, I said it but you wanted to go.” “I’m sorry Rafe, your right.” He shook his head. “Don’t you apologise, your to naive to know this could happened.” He walked to me and grabbed my face, carefully tracing my cheeks and my lips. “But you have me princess, I know these things.” I nodded. “Just listen to me, I protect you, you don’t need them when you have me baby.” “Okay.” I said while giving him a smile. “I have to do some business, you stay here.” He let’s go of my head. “Your favourite food is in the fridge, don’t wait up for me okay.” “Okay, be safe Rafe.” He smiles. “You know me baby.” He grabbed his car keys and left. I opened the fridge and took out my favourite. I hopped on the sofa and started to watch my favourite tv show.

—— midnight ——

I woke up from a loud sound. I peaked up and saw Rafe walking into the kitchen. “Rafe, is that you?” “Yes, go back to sleep darling.” I sat up straight as I heard water running. “What you doing?” “Nothing, just grabbing some water.” I did not believe anything he just said. I stood up and tiptoed to the kitchen. His back was facing me. He was washing his hands. Covered in red liquid, blood to be precisely. I held my hand against my mouth. ‘Oh god what did he do.’ “You want some food darling.” He yelled. I quickly walked away. “Baby? You want some food.” “Yeah, I’ll come and help you.” I said standing in the living room. “No I’m good, just relax.” I sat down nervous. Rafe walked in without his shirt, probably covered in blood. “Why are you half naked?” He laughs. “I thought you might like the view.” As he points at his chest. I laugh nervously back. “I do like the view.” He smiles and sits down next to me. “How was business.” I said while taking a bite of the pizza. “Good, I missed you tho.” He started to massage my shoulders. “You did?” “Yes of course I did.” He planted some kisses in my neck. “I thought about you the whole time.” I smelled the blood, sweat and some grass. I turned around and looked at him closely. “What?” He asked smiling. “You smell very weird Rafe.” I moved a bit away from him. “What did you do?” He just shrugged his shoulders. “Rafe what did you do.” Fear was creeping in. “I didn’t do anything.” “Then why where you gone for hours, don’t play dumb now with me.” I stood up, walking a bit away from him. As he just sat there smiling. Enjoying this whole thing. “I just talked with your friends.” My face fell, fear was on display. “Rafe…. You didn’t.” He stood up. “I did what I had to do.” He walked towards me as I walked further away. “Don’t come near me.” He just laughs. “Baby you don’t understand.” “Stay back!” I pulled me arms out to held him back. “Baby I’m not going to hurt you.” I shook heavily my head. “ I don’t trust you, your lying Rafe.” He signs. “I’m not lying, come here.” He looked at me sternly. “No, just answer my question, what did you do.” He was getting angry. “I beat the living shit out off them, took them to the forest and finished the job together with Barry.” Tears where falling down my face. “Why Rafe, they are my friends, why would you do that…” “because you don’t need them, it’s not the first time they done you dirty, so I had to pay them back.” I shook my head, vision getting blurry and with that Rafe wrapped his arms around me holding me close to his chest. I started to cry. “Sssh, it’s okay, I’m here baby.” He kisses my head and holding me close as my knees buckled and fell down. “I’ve got you baby, I’m here, don’t cry now.” I was holding him as he started to trace down my back. “Rafe…” “yes princess.” “Don’t ever leave me.” I whispered into his chest. I felt a rumble going through his chest. “I will never leave you, your mine and mine only.” I just nodded, feeling myself go numb. “Let’s get you to bed huh. Its to late for my princess.” He picked me up and brought me to his bed. I was already in some pyjamas so he tucked me in. “I’ll join you soon, need to clean up the kitchen.” He gave me a kiss and walked away. I stared up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think I can ever leave him, I love him to much’ I thought, while hearing him cleaning up his mess he made tonight.

#x reader #imagines #imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #obx x reader #obx imagine

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avvail-whumps · 2 years ago

Note

hey, I know you just ended the series, but could you show us a little of Leo's Father reaction to Leo running away with Roy?

btw, anon shouldn't have jumped into conclusions like that, you left pretty clear in the cw about the stockholm syndrome theme in the series, and I believe most people understood that the ending is not a good one. Anyway, loved the series! can't wait for more of your ideas

When Sebastian woke up in the morning, there was a nagging feeling in his gut that told him something was very wrong.

He was never usually up this early, for one, but he found himself crawling out of bed and heading straight for his son’s room. It had been a while since anyone else had been living in the house aside from him, so maybe it was that familiar quietness that had worried him.

His knuckles rapped against the door. “Leo?”

There was silence. Sebastian shifted, and he found himself swallowing thickly. He knocked again, louder this time.

“Son, is it okay if I come in?”

Only three seconds passed before he was pushing the door open, and his panicked eyes were met with an empty bed. He immediately dissolved into hysterics. He ran his hands desperately through his hair and darted for his room, grabbing his phone.

He was shaking, he realised, because all of Leo’s stuff was gone and his son was missing again.

“No, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, pacing his room as his trembling fingers attempted to unlock his phone. “Please, God, not again.”

Sebastian paced the whole house, shouting Leo’s name, but he was only met with cold silence. Because his son had been missing for a year - a year of not knowing if he was alive or dead. A year of wallowing in grief and regret and sickening remorse.

Sharpe picked up the phone within four rings. “Sebastian, everything—”

“He’s gone,” Sebastian sobbed, hardly able to breathe. His son was missing again, his son who he’d just got back. “He’s gone.”

There was a curt pause. “Okay, Sebastian. Calm down; are you talking about Leo?”

The violinist hunched against the doorframe, wiping his forearm against his sleeve with a choked gasp. He just barely heard Sharpe’s voice from the phone.

“Listen. You’re going to have to take a deep breath. You’re going to have a panic attack.”

Sebastian stumbled back into Leo’s room, his mind in shambles. The empty bed just made his heart tear into pieces, and his breath clogged in his lungs again.

“He’s not here,” Sebastian wheezed, scrambling to steady himself against the wall. He was going lightheaded. “Please, I can’t do this again. I can’t do this...”

“Stay calm,” Sharpe snapped. “Have you tried calling him?”

His head cleared for just a moment. Call - that was a good idea. He hung up the call instantly, and his shaking fingers somehow managed to find Leo’s new contact, dialling it. The rings pierced through his head, making him dizzy. But after a few seconds, he picked up.

His son’s voice echoed down the phone.

“Dad?”

Dad. Thank the Gods, he was okay. He’d picked up his phone.

“Son,” Sebastian choked, gripping the phone until his knuckles went white. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

There was a confused pause. “Yeah, I’m fine. You sound...are you alright?”

Sebastian ran a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to calm his rapid breathing, desperately trying to get the air back into his lungs. His shuddering silence had seemed to prompt his son to speak once again.

“Dad...?”

“Yes, son,” he choked, gripping his tight chest. “Where are you? I thought something had happened. I thought I lost you again.”

Leo softly sucked in a breath. “Did you not read my note?”

“Note?” Sebastian wheezed.

“Yeah. I left a—” He cut himself off, suddenly sounding gripped by guilt. “God, I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you.”

The sound of his son’s voice, the one he’d tormented himself over with voicemails and videos on his phone, was speaking to him. It was soothing that initial gut wrenching panic that had hit him. He sat on the edge of his bed, holding the phone close.

“I’m staying with Roy for a while,” Leo explained gently, and Sebastian swallowed.

“Roy?” He repeated. “Is that the man who helped you?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Was there something wrong here?” He desperately asked, tears stinging his eyes. “Did I do something wrong again?”

“What? Dad, no.” Leo’s voice sounded just as strained, melting with hurt. “Please don’t think like that. I’m an adult, you know. I’m allowed to live where I want, right?”

Sebastian stared absentmindly at the bed. “I thought you were missing. I-I thought...what if those men who hurt you had come back? I was scared, son. I can’t lose you. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

There was a defeaning silence, before Leo’s voice went small. “Have you been drinking?”

“What?” Sebastian choked. “Son, I’ve just...of course I haven’t.”

His son didn’t respond, so he softly wiped his nose, blinking away the blurriness in his vision. He tried to compose himself, clearing the thickness out of his voice before he spoke again.

“Will you call?”

Leo breathed out. “Everyday.”

He nodded. “Good. Good.”

“You’ll call too?”

“Of course I will,” he whispered.

“I’ll visit,” Leo promised, and Sebastian knew he was telling the truth. “Roy will drive me. We can have dinner together. We can play together. You can teach me something new, okay? I’d really like that.”

Sebastian enthusiastically nodded his head. His son couldn’t see how much he was crying, but he didn’t want him to. His heart ached at how much time had been lost between them. Even though Sebastian wanted his son to stay longer, there was nothing he could do.

“Of course,” he breathed. “Something difficult. Something I know you’ll love.”

Leo choked up. “I love you so much, dad.”

Sebastian smiled to himself. “I love you too, son.”

#ask #guns for hire special #guns for hire request #guns for hire #whump #whump writing #whump series #whump fic #whump drabble #whumpblr #whumpee #mentioned whumper #leo and roy #writing #my writing #avvail whumps #“is that the man who helped you”#sir your son is getting dicked down by the guy who kidnapped him

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titanus-casamonstros · 3 months ago

Text

SMOKE AND SINNERS CHAPTER 2: GATHERING THE STORM

TW: body horror

@mjtheartist04 @gay-trashcan-cat

August 8th, 1875

Chevy woke to the scent of warm breakfast curling through the air, thick and heavy. The wooden walls around him were unfamiliar, but the dull ache in his body wasn’t. He exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers before pushing himself upright. His muscles tensed in protest, stiff and sore from the night before. He glanced down. He wasn’t in his usual clothes. Someone had dressed him in a robe and silk pants. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t dwell on it. Not yet. A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He sat still for a second, listening. The weight of the room, the faint creak of the floorboards beyond the door. He swung his legs over the bed, rolled his shoulders, and trudged over, cracking the door open just enough to see. His voice came out low and rough.

“Yeah?”

A young elf stood outside, brown hair braided over her shoulder, offering a careful but warm smile. She wore a flowing brown skirt and a loose white blouse, and in her hands, she held a neatly folded bundle, his clothes.

“Morning, sir. Sorry to bother you. Got your clothes here. Ms. Valentine patched ‘em up real nice,” she said, holding them out. The repairs were obvious, stitched up, cleaned, almost like new.

Chevy took them without a word, running a thumb over the fresh stitching. Good work. He glanced past her toward the hall before meeting her eyes.

“Where am I?”

“Bramblebrush,” she answered. “We found you passed out on the street. Had to get you inside before the sun did its work on ya.”

His grip on the clothes tightened slightly. His gaze flicked to the drawn curtains, then back to her. “You know what I am, then.” A statement, not a question.

She shrugged. “Don’t care much. A soul in need is a soul in need. That’s what my ma always says.”

Chevy studied her, unreadable. Then, after a beat, he nodded. “Huh.”

He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out four gold coins, and placed them in her hand.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Not a charity case,” he said simply, already shutting the door.

Once alone, he dressed, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted the weight of his coat. The stitches held strong, even better than new. Downstairs, the tavern was quiet. A few early drinkers, the scrape of chairs against wood, the soft murmur of conversation. He took a seat at the bar, rapped his knuckles against the counter, and spoke without looking up.

“Fire whiskey.”

The first sip burned its way down, settling low in his gut. He let out a slow breath, rolling his sore jaw. Something moved outside the window. A vulture perched on the sill, pacing, dust shaking loose from its feathers. It locked eyes with him. Chevy held its gaze, unmoving. A chill traced the back of his neck. It was obvious something was keeping an eye on him. Just as suddenly, the vulture spread its wings and vanished into the sky. Chevy exhaled through his nose and took another drink. He barely had time to settle back into his silence before a voice purred beside him.

“Well, hey there, stranger.”

He didn’t look up at first. Just caught the movement of someone settling into the seat next to him. When he finally turned his head, his eyes landed on a woman with crimson hair braided over her shoulder. She was dressed finely. She had on a fitted bodice, layered red skirt with black paneling, sheer lace sleeves. Gold earrings swayed as she tilted her head, studying him with an easy, knowing smirk.

“What brings you to town?” she asked.

Chevy glanced at her, unimpressed. “Drinking.”

She laughed, smooth and unbothered. “Oh, so you do talk.” She flagged down the bartender with a flick of her fingers. “Mind if I drink with you? No funny business, just enjoy the company.”

Chevy didn’t answer right away, just watched her for a beat before shrugging. “Do what you want.”

She grinned. “That’s more like it.”

As the bartender poured her drink, she leaned on the bar, watching him. “So, uh… rough night?”

Chevy took another sip of his fire whiskey. “Something like that.”

She raised her glass in a mock toast. “Well, here’s to surviving whatever ‘something like that’ was.”

He exhaled through his nose, amused despite himself, and clinked his glass against hers. “Cheers.”

She took a sip, then set her glass down. “Name’s Lyra, by the way. What do they call you, stranger?”

Chevy hesitated for a beat before answering. “…Chevy.”

“Chevy.” She rolled the name on her tongue like she was testing it out. “I like it. Got a story behind it?”

He swirled the whiskey in his glass. “It’s just a name.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, aren’t you a fountain of mystery.” Taking another sip, she leaned in slightly, her tone teasing. “Lucky for you, I like a good puzzle.”

Chevy huffed, setting his glass down. “Not much to figure out.”

“Oh, I never need luck,” she said smoothly, fingers brushing the stem of her glass. “Just patience… and maybe another round.”

She signaled the bartender again, settling in comfortably. Whatever her real intentions were, she wasn’t leaving his side anytime soon.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned. Is that Chevy?”

A voice he recognized came from behind him. Chevy turned, eyes landing on a striking woman with dark, intense eyes and windswept black hair. She wore dangling earrings, a wide-brimmed hat, and a dusty red scarf over a dark brown duster. A leather belt strapped across her waist held knives, an ivory-stocked revolver, and various pouches. She held him in her gaze with a playful glint.

Mari Sunbrook.

Chevy sighed. “Hell.”

Mari strolled over, taking the seat on Chevy’s other side and ordering a fire whiskey.

“So, who’s your friend?” she mused, taking a sip.

“Well, she isn’t my frie—”

“Lyra Ellingham,” Lyra cut in smoothly, flashing a sly smile. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss.”

Mari shook her hand with an easy grin.

“So, how far back do you and Chevy go?” Lyra asked.

Chevy sighed, already regretting this conversation. “Met her on a job.”

“Ooh! I beat the shit out of him a while back,” Mari chimed in.

Chevy took a slow drink, then set his glass down. “Yeah. She did.”

“Mhm! And I still have the sand graveler quill that was in your shoulder,” Mari added, leaning in playfully. “Had it made into these two daggers,” she whispered like she was showing off a prized toy.

Chevy glanced at the daggers, unimpressed. “Sentimental.”

Mari smirked, sheathing them. “So, Chevy, what brings you to Bramblebrush?”

He exhaled through his nose, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Would you believe me if I said I got no damn clue?” He gestured vaguely at the inn. “Rode out at night. Next thing I know, I’m here.”

Mari studied him, listening beyond his words. Lies always carried a certain dissonance, an off-kilter hum beneath a person’s breath. Chevy’s voice lacked it.

“Huh…” she muttered.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor caught their attention. A raccoon-folk in a neatly pressed white shirt and dark suspenders clambered onto the stool beside Mari, adjusting his red bandana with a huff. His wide-brimmed hat was slightly askew, and sharp yellow eyes flicked between them, wary but curious.

“Well, ain’t this a crowd,” he remarked, his voice dry and laced with a city drawl. His posture was tense but composed, tail flicking slightly behind him. “Mari, should I be worried about you collectin’ strays again?”

Mari grinned. “Boone, meet Chevy and Lyra. Chevy’s the broody one, Lyra’s the charming one.” She gestured to the raccoon with a knowing smirk. “And this is Boone probably most uptight ranger on this side of the island.”

Boone scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, yeah, keep butterin’ me up, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna change the fact that ya only call me when somethin’s about to go real sideways.” He flicked a glance toward Chevy and Lyra, sizing them up like he was mentally calculating their odds of survival. “So, we in the imminent danger phase yet, or do I still got time to order a drink before somethin’ explodes?”

Chevy took a slow sip, set his glass down, and finally looked at Boone. “Both.”

Boone groaned, rubbing his temples. “Besheba. Course it is.” He flagged down the bartender with a sharp flick of his fingers. “Just so we’re clear, I am not cleanin’ up whatever mess she’s about to drag us into.”

Mari chuckled, nudging Boone’s shoulder. “Oh, Boone. You say that every time.”

“And yet, here I am,” Boone muttered, exasperated but settling in nonetheless.

Boone exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. His sharp yellow eyes flicked between Chevy and Lyra, still sizing them up. “Alright, so what’s your deal?” he asked Chevy first, tilting his head. “Ya look like ya been run over by a damn carriage.”

Chevy took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Feels like it.”

Boone scoffed. “Yeah, real specific. You always this chatty, or you just savin’ up words for somethin’ important?”

Mari smirked. “Oh, he’s always like this.”

Chevy shot her a look but didn’t argue. “I just got here. No clue how.”

Boone narrowed his eyes. “You just got here?” He exchanged a glance with Mari before looking back at Chevy. “Right, sure. ‘Cause people just pop up wherever all the time.” He drummed his fingers against the bar, clearly unconvinced but not pushing yet.

Shifting his attention, Boone turned to Lyra, his skeptical expression lingering. “And what about you? You actually belong here, or are ya another lost soul wanderin’ into Mari’s mess?”

Lyra smirked, tilting her glass toward him. “Oh, I’m exactly where I need to be. Though I do have a habit of stumbling into trouble.”

Boone rolled his eyes. “Fantastic. Another one.” He took a slow sip of his drink, muttering, “This is gonna be a shitshow.”

Lyra’s grin widened. “You wound me, Boone. We just met, and you’re already lumping me in with whatever mischief your friend here gets up to?”

Boone exhaled through his nose, swirling his glass. “Listen, lady, I’ve been dragged into plenty of Mari’s schemes, and they all got one thing in common—chaos. So forgive me if I ain’t exactly jumpin’ for joy at the thought of more strangers in the mix.”

Mari elbowed him. “Oh, quit being dramatic. You love chaos.”

Boone straightened his suspenders, feigning offense. “I tolerate chaos. Under duress.”

Chevy finally looked up from his drink. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Boone pointed at him. “See? Now that was a good read.” He let out a dramatic sigh, adjusting his hat. “Alright, fine. I’ll bite. You ain’t got a clue how ya got here, I already don’t trust whatever Mari’s about to rope us into, and this one,” he motioned to Lyra, “is too smooth for her own good.”

Lyra pressed a hand to her chest. “Why, Boone, I think I’m flattered.”

Boone ignored her. “So what’s the play, then? We sittin’ around waitin’ for whatever disaster’s about to drop in our laps, or do we got some kinda plan?”

Mari smirked. “Oh, Boone. You know better than to ask that.”

Boone groaned, already regretting every life choice that led him here. “God damn it.”

Just as Boone groaned in exasperation, the door burst open with a loud bang, nearly making Lyra spill her drink. A frantic-looking man stumbled inside, his hat askew and his coat barely clinging to his shoulders. His chest heaved as he scanned the room, his wide eyes darting from patron to patron.

“Please! Someone!” he wheezed, gripping the edge of the bar to steady himself. “I—I need help! I caught somethin’ out behind my shop, and it’s, oh, gods, it’s something awful!”

The tavern went momentarily still as a few patrons exchanged skeptical glances, some scoffing under their breath. One man near the back muttered, “Another damn rat problem?” before turning back to his drink.

Boone pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

Mari, on the other hand, leaned forward, her eyes glinting with interest. “A creature, you say?”

The shopkeeper nodded frantically. “Yes! Big, ugly thing! I dunno what it is, but it’s got the widest smile I’ve ever seen, and it’s makin’ noises that ain't natural.” He shuddered. “I managed to trap it, but I—I don’t think the ropes are gonna hold for long! Please, someone’s gotta help me get rid of the damn thing before it gets loose!”

Lyra’s lips curled into an intrigued smile. “Well, now that sounds interesting.”

Boone groaned. “No, no, no. I know that look. Don’t you dare.”

Mari smirked at him. “C’mon, Boone. Didn’t you just say you tolerate chaos?”

Boone scowled. “Under duress.”

Chevy finally sighed, setting his drink down. “Might be an actual problem.” He eyed the shopkeeper, who was still panting like he’d run a mile. “You sure it ain’t just a big dog or somethin’?”

The shopkeeper paled. “A dog? No, sir. Dogs don’t laugh like that.”

Boone’s expression twitched at the word laugh. He quickly downed the rest of his drink before slamming the glass down with a heavy sigh. “Ah, hell.”

Mari clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit!”

Boone muttered something under his breath before straightening his suspenders. “Fine. But if this thing tries to eat us, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when we’re all dead.”

The shopkeeper’s face lit up with relief. “Oh, thank the gods! C’mon, it’s out back- just please be careful!”

With that, the group exchanged glances before pushing away from the bar, following the jittery man out into the night.

The shopkeeper led them across the street and behind his shop, hands shaking as he gestured toward a figure bound in thick ropes, struggling weakly against its restraints.

It looked like a twisted mockery of a circus performer. Its head was large and round, with two curled devilish horns protruding from its scalp. A grin stretched impossibly wide across its face, rows of jagged yellow teeth gleaming even in the dim alley light. Its eyes glowed eerie gold, flickering like distant lanterns.

Its upper body was clad in tattered, patchwork fabric resembling a clown’s motley, striped sleeves hanging limply from unnaturally long arms. Its torso was the most unnerving, where a stomach should have been, there was only a coiled spring, making it lurch and sway unpredictably. Below, its legs were mismatched, one wrapped in circus-striped fabric, the other a deep red that ended in a clawed, demonic foot. A thin, wiry coattail flicked behind it, curling in frustration.

Despite its restraints, the thing let out a high-pitched, rasping giggle, its jagged grin stretching wider.

Boone took a step back, pointing his revolver at it with an unsteady hand. “What the fuck is that?!”

The shopkeeper wiped his sweaty brow. “I—I don’t know! It was diggin’ through my trash last night, eatin’ somethin’ that weren’t food, I tell you that! I tried shooing it off, and it laughed at me before lunging! Managed to tie it up, but it ain’t right, whatever it is.”

It giggled again. “I was looking for pennies,” it said gleefully, swaying on its spring.

Lyra tilted her head, inspecting the bound figure. “Creepy… but kinda cute, in a horrifying way.”

Boone shot her an incredulous look. “Cute? That thing looks like what happens when a jack-in-the-box gets possessed.”

The creature giggled again, its golden eyes narrowing as it tested the ropes with a slow, deliberate motion.

Chevy exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Is it… dangerous?”

The shopkeeper paled. “If it gets loose? You tell me.”

Chevy nodded. “Yeah. Alright. We’ll deal with… whatever that is.”

With that, the shopkeeper bolted, disappearing into the night.

The ropes strained as the wiry creature swayed, its coiled torso stretching like a wound-up spring ready to snap. It threw its head back in a dramatic groan.

“Ohhh, baby, if you wanted me tied up, ya coulda at least bought me dinner first! I mean, really, I’m a cheap date, just a little blood wine, a candle or two, and bam! Romance!”

Its grin gleamed in the dim light as it flicked its tail, playfully batting at Boone’s boot.

“C’mon, sweetheart, loosen these up a little. I promise I won’t bite! Well, not hard, unless you’re into that.”

Boone scowled, stepping back like he didn’t want to be within ten feet of whatever this was. “Great. Just what we needed. A nightmare that never shuts the hell up.”

The creature gasped, scandalized. “Nightmare? Sugar, please! I prefer delightfully unsettling. Devilishly handsome. Maybe even a mysterious gentleman of the night!” It twitched its bound fingers. “Ooh, that one’s got a little razzle-dazzle to it.”

Chevy remained stone-faced. “You got a name?”

The creature grinned wider.

“Since y’all seem curious—”

The group tensed as the sound of a drum roll echoed through the air, seemingly from nowhere.

“The name’s Twill!”

It leaned in closer to Chevy and Boone, voice dropping to a sultry purr.

“You can just call me darlin’.”

Lyra laughed, leaning against the wall. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh, pumpkin, you have no idea.” Twill stretched as best he could, his coiled midsection creaking. He turned his gaze to Boone, lips curling.

“Broody. Built like a bad habit. Damn. I do love me a fella with that tired eyes aesthetic. How’d you know it was my type?”

Boone just rolled his eyes. “I already don’t like you.”

Twill let out a theatrical groan. “Ugh, heartbreaking! But don’t you worry, cowboy, I love a challenge.”

Then his gaze slid to Chevy, and he whistled.

“And you. Big, broad, all serious with that whole ‘I’ll put you down if I have to’ thing, sugar, you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that, or I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re interested.” He batted his lashes.

Chevy exhaled through his nose. “You always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m awake!” Twill chirped. “I do like my odds in this little party. So, what’s initiation? Do I gotta do some kinda trust fall? ‘Cause I’ll fall, baby, I promise! Just… maybe into someone’s arms?” He winked.

Boone sighed. “Can we kill it yet?”

“Oh, big guy, at least take me to dinner first,” Twill crooned. “Or breakfast. Hell, just pin me to a wall and let’s call it a—”

POOF!

A cloud of glittering purple smoke exploded where Twill had been bound, the ropes falling slack to the ground. Before anyone could react, the smoke coiled through the air like a mischievous wisp then whooshed directly into Chevy.

He barely had time to blink before Twill reappeared, falling straight into his arms.

“Oooh, strong hands! I knew you were a catch,” Twill purred, draping himself against Chevy’s chest like a swooning damsel. “If I’d known this was part of the initiation, I woulda pulled the escape act sooner!”

Chevy stared down at him, completely deadpan. “…Put yourself back.”

Twill grinned up at him, unbothered. “Make me, cowboy.”

Mari and Lyra just managed to hold back laughter, Boone groaned. Chevy let out the longest sigh of his life then dropped Twill onto the dusty ground.

Twill landed with a dramatic oof! before rolling onto his back, sprawling out like he was posing for a portrait.

“Y’know, sugar, if you wanted me on my knees, you coulda just asked.”

Boone groaned. “I hate this thing.”

Mari ignored him. “We’re takin’ him back to the inn.”

Boone crossed his arms. “We have to?” he muttered

Chevy shrugged. “Better there than out here causing problems.”

“Ohhh, honey, I am the problem,” Twill chimed in, hands on his hips. “Also I love that you’re already planning around me, feels real intimate, y’know?”

Mari turned to Chevy and Lyra. “We’ll keep an eye on him. You go get what you need.”

Boone’s ears flicked back. “What?!”

Mari grinned. “What, you love making new friends.”

Boone grumbled under his breath, but Chevy wasn’t sticking around to hear it. He was already walking off, Lyra gave Boone smirk as she playfully waved goodbye

“Wait, wait, you’re just leaving?” Boone called after them.

Chevy didn’t look back. “Enjoy.”

Boone swore under his breath as Twill clasped his hands together, eyes glittering with mischief.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun! What’re we doin’ first? Drinking games? Deep, personal secrets? Ooh, can we braid each other’s hair? Wait, do you know how to braid? ‘Cause I don’t, but I can make a mean daisy chain.”

Boone pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear to god—”

Mari clapped him on the back. “You’ll be fine.”

Chevy stepped inside the worn-down shop at the west edge of town. The creak of the wooden floorboards under his boots vanished into the weight of the room. The shelves lining the walls were crammed with oddities: glass jars filled with dead homunculi, old books and tomes with their spines worn down to nothing, trinkets and charms strung up like drying herbs.

A wall of various weapons stood behind a cabinet displaying delicate porcelain dolls.

“Looking for something in particular, dear?” a voice croaked from the back,

An elderly woman sat behind the counter, hands folded neatly over a red cloth. Wrinkled skin, sharp, knowing eyes. She wore a simple red dress, something faded and homespun, her eyes were milky but he still felt like she was looking right at him. Chevy didn’t answer right away, just let his gaze settle on the weapons rack to the right of her. He hadn’t come looking for anything fancy, just something reliable. The selection ranged from pistols and knives to rifles and grappling hooks, even some remnants of the holy Helsenic movement: stakes, crosses, and vials of holy water.

“Thank you kindly ma’am, I’m just….lookin’”

His eyes caught on something else.

It was an axe sat propped against the back wall, the blade still glistening wet in the dim light. A slow, deliberate drip of red ran down its silver edge, pooling onto the cloth beneath it. Chevy’s breath didn’t hitch, his expression didn’t change, but his stomach coiled tight, his instincts pulling him away. Silver. He could feel it, like opening up an oven and receiving a blast of hot air, not only that. It was used recently too. The woman didn’t react to his lingering gaze. He didn’t need one, the message was clear. He wasn’t welcome there. Chevy forced his eyes away from the axe, rolling his shoulders like he could shake off the weight pressing in on him.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a shotgun, would you Miss?”

The woman smiled. “Mmm. Practical.”

She turned, moving with a slowness that felt deliberate. Reaching beneath the counter, she pulled out a case, and set it down with a gentle thunk.

“This,” she said, flipping the latches open, “might interest you.”

Inside, nestled in velvet lining, sat a shotgun. Well-made, sleek, polished, with an engraving along the barrel in a language he didn’t recognize. Chevy picked it up, testing the weight.

“How much?”

Her smile widened, slow and knowing. “For you? Fair price.”

He pulled out the coins without a word, setting them on the counter. She took them without counting, tucking them into the folds of her dress. As he stepped toward the door, her voice followed him.

“Take care now, dear.”

He didn’t look back. When he stepped outside, shotgun in hand, the air felt lighter. The scent of dust and lantern oil faded, only then did he breathe. With his new equipment in hand, he headed back to the inn.

The stores sat in the oil-lamp glow like skeletons stripped of meat. The streets stretched empty. Lyra walked at a steady pace, her boots clicking softly against the worn wooden planks of the boardwalk. She strolled through like nothing, seeing how her reflection fit into the clothing in the boutique windows. Her eyes landed on a little girl, standing at the edge of the tree line. She was barefoot, her toes sinking slightly into the dirt. Her dress was the color of washed-out cornflower, the hem torn and stained. Her arms hung limp at her sides. Her hair, tangled and unkempt, clung to her cheeks. She didn’t move. Didn’t cry. Just stood there, still as a painted doll.

Lyra took a step forward. “Are you lost?”

The girl’s head twitched, just a fraction too fast.

“My mommy,” she said. Her voice was soft, delicate, but almost Rehearsed. “I can’t find her.”

Another gust stirred the dirt, oil lamps flickering and casting warped shadows across the boardwalk.

She kept her voice even. “Where did you last see her?”

The girl tilted her head. Not curiously. Not nervously. Exactly 30 degrees, like a mechanical puppet being wound into position. A dry wind stirred the dust at Lyra’s feet. The oil lamps flickered, stretching their shadows long across the ground. The girl’s body twitched, shoulders buckling inward, limbs shuddering. Then came the wet, ugly sound of splitting flesh.

The thing beneath her skin peeled back. The little-girl frame burst apart, limbs stretching, reforming. Arms elongated into jagged, serrated appendages, twitching at unnatural angles. A sickening pop rang out as joints reversed. Where her small face had been, something else unfolded. Eyes, too many, and too wide squelched open, black pits rimmed in glistening gold. Its mouth was a jagged mess of layered mandibles, stretching wider, wider, until it was more similar to a festering open wound than a face. Lyra’s breath stayed even.

The thing breathed, it was a wet, clicking exhale the wind making a moist whistle as it traveled through the gaps in its “hide”. It screamed a violent, ear-splitting keening sound that tore through the empty streets like a siren. The sound dug into Lyra’s skull, rattling in her bones. Her vision blurred at the edges.

She staggered back.

“Oh shit-”

Boone sat hunched over a whiskey glass, glaring at the trickster with all the simmering rage of a man who had been one bad joke away from committing a crime all night. “I hate him.”

“Alright,” Boone grumbled, rubbing his temples, “lemme get this straight. Not only are we not killin’ him…” he gestured vaguely at Twill, who was currently balancing a stolen spoon on his tongue, “—but we’re keeping him?”

Mari chuckled, taking a sip of her fire-whiskey. “Yup”

“You know, sugar,” Twill purred, “if you keep starin’ at me like that, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re interested.”

Boone reached for his gun.

Mari kicked his chair. “Don’t.”

Boone scowled, taking his own slow, seething sip of whiskey. “I’m gonna put a bullet in your skull.”

“Oooooh, scary,” Twill crooned, rolling onto his side with a lazy grin. “I love a slow burn.”

The saloon doors swung open with a bang, cold air sweeping in behind the broad frame of Chevy as he stepped inside. He looked rough, with his hat pulled low, coat dusted from the road, shoulders stiff like he’d been grinding his teeth the whole way back. He shut the door behind him, muttering a near-silent curse in spanish.

Twill sat up immediately, eyes gleaming. “Oh, daddy’s home.”

Chevy stared at him, blank-faced. “I just got back.”

“And we missed you, baby~.” Twill batted his lashes.

Boone pinched the bridge of his nose. “I sure as hell didn’t.”

Twill gasped, pressing a hand to his chest before turning to Chevy, expression almost predatory. “How was the trip? Find anything… interesting?”

Chevy dropped into a chair, rubbing his temple, boots scraping against the warped floorboards. “Bought a shotgun,” he muttered, voice rough from the road. “And some old woman had a silver axe. Blood all over it.”

The air in the group shifted, Boone’s glass paused halfway to his lips. Mari stopped flipping her knife. Even Twill, who treated everything like a joke tilted his head.

“…Come again?” Boone set his drink down slowly.

Chevy exhaled sharply, but it didn’t sound like relief. “Store had all kinds of shit, trinkets, books, charms, weapons. Some of it was real. Some of it was junk made to look real.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Then I saw the axe.”

Mari leaned in, fingers drumming against the table. “And?”

Chevy hesitated.

Twill’s grin widened. “Oh, honey, don’t stop now.”

Chevy exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate. “It was behind the counter next to the owner, real silver, well-made. and the blade—” He shook his head slightly. “The blade was fresh.”

Boone narrowed his eyes. “She used it?”

Chevy’s fingers curled against the table. “She wasn’t even cleaning it.” His gaze darkened. “Like the blood was a key piece of it.”

Twill let out a slow whistle, dragging his fingers along the woodgrain of the chair. “Ohhh, that’s good.”

Mari shot him a glare. “No, that’s bad.”

“She say anything?” Boone pressed.

Chevy shook his head. “Didn’t mention it, just like it was just another piece of stock.” His voice dropped slightly. Boone frowned while Mari’s expression stayed unreadable.

Twill, meanwhile, was beaming. “Oh, sugar, you have had the most deliciously unsettling little outing.”

Chevy shot him a look. “You know something?”

Twill’s grin sharpened. “Not yet. But I’d love to find out.”

Boone scowled. “If you don’t cut the cryptic shit—”

Before he could finish, a screech tore through the night, causing the group to freeze. A yell followed, it was Lyra. Chevy was on his feet in an instant. Boone grabbed his gun. Mari was already moving.

Twill hesitated just long enough to laugh. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

The scent of blood and sulfur thickened the air as they skidded into the street. Lyra stood in the lamplight, crimson hair loose from its braid, her fine dress torn. Her sheer sleeves had been shredded, but her gold earrings still gleamed. She was breathing hard, one hand outstretched, a dark energy curling around her fingers like ink in water. A few yards away, the thing slithered and jerked across the dirt. Chevy stiffened mid-stride, fingers tightening on the stock of his shotgun. Boone and Mari exchanged sharp glances, their banter vanishing like a candle snuffed out. Twill, ever the outlier, perked up with an almost amused expression.

With a flick of Chevy’s wrist, he whistled, a sharp, commanding note that sliced through the night air. Shadows churned at his feet, the ground splitting open like a wound. A violent gust of heat rolled out, and from the depths of black flame, Blackjack emerged. The nightmare stallion snorted, ember eyes burning, smoke curling from his nostrils. His hooves struck the earth with a sound like a funeral bell.

Boone skidded to a stop, ears flattening against his head as the hellish stallion erupted from the ground. “Shit.” His revolver was half-raised. “A little warning next time?” Boone blinked, slowly lowering his gun.

Mari took a slow step back, nostrils flaring as the heat from the nightmare's hooves rolled over them. "You been holdin’ out on us, Chevy?"

Twill, however, was delighted. He leaned in, eyes sparkling. "Ooooh, I like him! Can I pet—"

Blackjack bared his teeth, fire licking at his gums.

Twill’s ears flattened. "...no petting the horse, noted."

Lyra, barely sparing the nightmare a glance, just rolled her eyes. “Can we focus?”

Chevy pulled Blackjack around, the stallion’s molten hooves searing the ground beneath them. “Less staring, more moving,” he growled, already kicking the beast into a gallop.

Chevy swung into the saddle without slowing. “Let’s move.”

Blackjack reared, his ember eyes flaring as red flames lashed out of his eyes and mane. With a powerful lunge, he bolted forward, hooves pounding against the dirt road like war drums. Smoke curled in his wake, leaving scorch marks where he passed, Chevy gripped the reins. The others followed in a rush, the sharp clicks of revolvers being readied and the electric hum of magic filling the air. Boone pulled his pistol with a fluid motion, Mari's fingers curled as spectral energy flickered between them, and Twill practically skipped, twirling a conjured cane as if they weren’t sprinting toward something beyond this plane of existence.

The town’s edge came into view, where the wooden walkways met the dry grasslands beyond, and that’s when they saw her.

Lyra stood beneath the shattered remnants of a streetlamp, the glass shards glinting in the dust. The dim, flickering light cast jagged shadows around her, warping with the pulse of crimson energy swirling at her fingertips. She was poised, her stance sharp but even from a distance, they could tell she was just barely holding on. Across from her, the thing loomed, twisted and towering, its grotesque form writhing with too many limbs that skittered unnaturally. Its chitinous hide gleamed like something wet and rotting, and its eyes all shifting and blinking out of sync, fixed on Lyra with a hunger that sent a chill through her spine.

It let out a noise, something between a screech and a gurgle, its fanged mandibles twitching as a thick, inky drool dripped onto the ground, sizzling where it landed.

Its body was a mass of limbs, shifting like a broken marionette, slick with ichor. Its too-many eyes rolled in its malformed skull, tracking her every movement.

She flicked her wrist. A whisper left her lips, the air rippled and the monster shuddered, its body locking up, as if something unseen had sunk fangs into its brain. Then, its grotesque mouth gurgled, and to the absolute horror of everyone present, it laughed.

It was a wet, choking mockery of a laugh. With a snap of Lyra’s fingers, a burst of arcane flames roared up between them, licking at its deformed limbs. It screeched, flinching away, and that gave her enough time to dodge, narrowly avoiding the downward swing of a jagged claw.

Blackjack charged forward, fire trailing in his wake, Chevy pulled the shotgun from his back and fired. The blast rocked the creature, sending black ichor splattering across the dirt road. The nightmare reared, kicking out with molten hooves, one strike crunching into the creature’s jaw. The force sent it reeling, but it wasn't enough to stop the thing from twisting its body grotesquely to recover.

Mari’s voice turned sharp, her banshee wail slamming into the creature like a shockwave. The beast reeled, clutching its bulbous head as the force of it wracked its body. Its limbs spasmed, its many eyes flickering wildly, as if the very sound had shattered something inside of it.

Boone leapt onto a nearby rooftop, the revolvers sang in his hands. Three rapid-fire shots, one struck dead center, lodging in its chest. The second tore through one of its many arms. The third, however, missed, zipping past its shoulder and embedding in a wooden post.

Boone clicked his tongue. “Damn thing’s quick.”

Twill, watching this unfold, simply grinned and his entire form warped, stretching like something out of a fever dream. His gloved hands grew to the size of anvils, his tail snapped like a whip, and his grin? It is literally unhinged, opening just a bit too wide.

“Batter up.”

He cackled before swinging, with a massive mallet appearing out of nowhere, slamming into the creature’s gut. The impact sent it skidding backwards, legs flailing wildly before it crashed through a water trough, shattering the wood into splinters. Lyra stepped forward, lips curling.

“Heel.” The word rang with unnatural command, slicing through the creature’s mind like a blade, and for a split second, it froze.

She lifted her hand. Shadows gathered, curling into a skeletal grip, then lashed forward, seizing the monster by the “throat.”

It hissed, struggling against the necrotic hold. Chevy swung Nightsnare, the lasso wrapping around the creature’s arm, tightening like a viper. A surge of energy ran down the cord, its weaves glowing with a hungry purple light. The monster shrieked, its flesh sizzling under the supernatural grip. Mari lifted one hand, fingers curling as glowing white cracks emerged on her skin. The whites of her eyes flooded all other parts, making them glow an ethereal white. Ghostly chains shot up from the ground, wrapping around the creature’s limbs. A cold wind swept through, making ghostly wails ring out as it was pulled towards the ground. Boone, still above, flipped a coin. It spun in the air, glinting in the dim light then, without missing a beat, he shot it. The bullet ricocheted.

Once.

Twice, then straight through the creature’s skull. It staggered, wounded, but it was still standing and even more angry. The beast lurched, its entire form twisting unnaturally as it launched itself forward. The movement was too fast. Chevy yanked back on Blackjack’s reins just in time to avoid getting gored, and Boone had to roll as the rooftop he stood on was ripped apart beneath the monster’s claws. Meanwhile, Twill laughed, A hole appeared beneath his feet, and he simply dropped through it, narrowly avoiding a swipe. He reappeared a second later, standing casually next to Mari.

“Whew,” he said, flexing. “Almost lost my good looks.”

Twill sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright, don’t get your ectoplasm in a twist.”

He cracked his knuckles, then slammed his hands together. The impact rang out like a gunshot, then came the shockwave.

The air rippled violently, distorting like heat off desert sand before exploding outward in a concussive blast. The monster didn’t even have time to react. Its body crumpled inward, limbs snapping, flesh splitting, ichor bursting in all directions. The shockwave carried through the street, rattling windows and kicking up a thick cloud of dust.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything went still, and the creature was gone.

Twill, entirely unharmed, turned to someone the rest couldn’t see, pointing finger guns at the sizzling corpse. “Y’all see that? Someone put a ribbon on me, I’m a gift.”

Boone wiped his face with his sleeve, only smearing the black blood further. He glared at Twill. "I hate you."

Twill grinned, fanged. "You love me."

Mari, ignoring them both, prodded the creature’s remains with her boot, watching as the last of the unnatural ichor sizzled against the dirt. "The hell was that thing?"

Chevy swung down from Blackjack, his expression unreadable as he eyed the corpse. "Nothing good."

Lyra exhaled, rolling her shoulders. Her crimson magic flickered out, and she wiped a streak of grime from her cheek. "Well, that’s specific."

Boone holstered his guns, shaking his head. "Hell of a fight. You good?"

Lyra flexed her fingers, testing for lingering pain. "I’ll live."

Chevy clicked his tongue, looking her over before nodding. "Let’s get back."

[early morning hours of August 9th]

The saloon doors creaked open as they stepped inside, the usual patrons throwing them curious glances before turning back to their drinks. The bartender didn’t even bat an eye as they dropped into their seats, exhaustion settling over them like a thick blanket.

"Round of drinks," Mari called, rubbing her temples. "Strongest you got."

The bartender gave a grunt of acknowledgement before shuffling away. Before any of them could get comfortable, two figures approached their table, seating themselves without invitation. The first was broad-shouldered, his frame wrapped in a long, deep blue dust-covered coat. A grizzled beard shadowed his face, deep lines of exhaustion carved into his features. His hands, large and thick-knuckled, flexed absently at his sides, the coarse hair creeping up his forearms giving him an almost bestial silhouette in the lantern light. His companion was leaner, sharp yellow eyes scanning the group with a practiced wariness. His scraggly brown hair was streaked with a thick shock of white. The bigger man took a seat first, resting his forearms on the table. The weight of him alone shifted the balance of the conversation before a single word was spoken.

"Well," he drawled, his voice smooth, low, with just a hint of a rasp. "Looks like we missed one hell of a show."

The group exchanged glances.

Boone scowled, eyes flicking between them. "Who the fuck are you?"

The man smiled slowly

"Demetrius Anderson," he said, voice sliding over the name like a snake coiling around prey. "This here’s my ward, Horizio Gidras."

Mari arched her brow. "And you’re in our business because…?"

Demetrius tilted his head slightly, like a wolf wondering how much fight its prey had in it.

"I assume you’ve heard of Hell’s Stingers," he said casually, running a finger along the rim of his glass. "An operation of theirs got wiped out south of here. Real nasty bunch, traffickers, slavers, the kind of people who make life worse for everyone.” He paused while taking a sip, “Funny thing, someone tore through them like a storm a few days back, leaving me with a lot of open-ended questions."

Chevy remained still. The others might not have noticed the way his fingers curled just slightly around his glass, the tension creeping into his shoulders, but Demetrius did.

Chevy’s voice was steady when he finally spoke. "So what, you lookin’ to avenge ‘em?"

Demetrius laughed, it was a soft low rumble, the type of sound you could feel in your chest.

"Not at all, son, Don’t worry," he murmured. "Scum like that’s better off rotting anyway. But someone with serious skill dismantled that camp like it was nothing. I’m the kind of man who likes to keep tabs on his neighbors."

Boone’s ears flicked slightly, his expression unreadable. "What, you think we know something about it?"

Demetrius sighed, slow and measured, dragging his gaze over each of them like he was peeling back layers of skin. "I just think it’s awfully convenient that y’all show up just after the dust settles." His eyes lingered on Chevy. "I think someone here knows more than they’re letting on."

Chevy’s fingers tapped once against his glass. His expression didn’t change. "Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree. We don’t know anything."

Demetrius breathed in, slow and deep, like a man savoring a fine wine. His nostrils flared just slightly, ever so slightly, he leaned forward.

"Well, aren’t you jumpy…" he teased as a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his voice smooth as silk.

The tension at the table snapped tight as a noose, Chevy could have sworn that he saw Demetrius’ hair flare up briefly like a cat. Horizio’s gaze flicked toward Demetrius with a confused stare, his brow furrowing slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

Mari’s hand drifted toward her revolver. Boone straightened just slightly, his posture carefully blank. Lyra’s crimson eyes darted toward Chevy, watching, waiting.

Boone’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, flat and unimpressed.

"You’re fuckin’ weird."

Demetrius let out a hearty laugh, with the weight in the air loosening.

"I like your gumption, kid." He took a slow sip of his drink, then set it down with a quiet clink. "but I’m here to make you an offer."

He leaned forward, resting an arm on the table.

“This island’s changing,” he murmured, voice smooth but laced with something dangerous. “I’ve been around long enough to know when the balance is shifting, and right now? It’s tipping into something real ugly.” He exhaled through his nose. “Things that shouldn’t be here are cropping up more than usual.” He tapped a finger against the table. “And there’s always something else creeping in after them.”

His golden eyes flickered like candlelight.

“People that didn’t discriminate between the monsters they hunted and the ones just trying to survive.”

He exhaled slowly, glancing over the group. “I tried handling this myself to avoid collateral, but I’m finding myself overwhelmed, so I wanted to outsource those who are already making waves.” His eyes dropped slightly, a slow exhale exited his mouth “Which brings me to you.”

Boone scoffed, arms crossed. “You need us to clean up your mess, that it?”

Demetrius shook his head. “No, I just need help with a preexisting infestation.” He let that sit before adding, “I know what’s out there, and I know how to keep people off your back. You help me deal with whatever’s crawling out of the dark, what’s stirring up old trouble, and in return?” He spread his hands. “I offer protection, information, resources, and and a safe place to land when shit inevitably hits the fan.”

Finally, Mari exhaled through her nose, slow and measured. She glanced at Chevy, Boone, and Lyra, reading their expressions before setting her glass down.

“Suppose we’re interested.”

"How does 50k in gold sound for your first job?" He offered

Boone nearly choked on his drink.

Special thanks to: Gecko, Mjtheartist, StandardHuman and Littlemissatlas for their contributions and support

Nick Nocturne for being an inspiration for both writing and character(also for providing the name of Demetrius)

Mari was a creation by party member tinkywig

Lyra was a creation by StandardHuman

And one more special thanks to LittleMissatlas(the DM),StandardHuman and the rest of the original Dust and Blood party, who without them, the memories and experiences that this campaign is rooted in would not have been possible

#aint that a bite #aint that a bite ocs #writing #creative writing #smoke and sinners

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mattmurdocksglasses · 1 year ago

Text

NYX’s NIGHTFALL

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

“𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭“

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Natalya woke up to the soft rays of morning sunlight filtering through her curtains, casting a warm glow across her room. Stretching languidly, she yawned and blinked away the remnants of sleep, feeling the gentle tug of anticipation for the day ahead. The scent of fresh coffee wafted from the kitchen, enticing her out of bed. With a contented sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, relishing the comforting familiarity of her morning routine as she prepared to face the day. As Natalya descended the stairs, she could hear the faint sounds of her aunt Jenna's anxious murmurs emanating from the kitchen. With a furrowed brow, she quickened her pace, wondering what had her usually composed aunt so flustered. Entering the kitchen, Natalya found Jenna pacing back and forth, a whirlwind of activity. "Aunt Jenna, what's wrong?" Natalya asked, concern evident in her voice. Jenna glanced up, a slightly frazzled look on her face. "Hey, Natalya. I'm just trying to figure out what to whip up for breakfast for the first day back to school. Any suggestions?" she said, tossing a few ingredients onto the counter. Natalya surveyed the options and shrugged. "How about some simple pancakes or scrambled eggs? Can't go wrong with those," she suggested. Jenna nodded, relieved. "Good call." As they were setting the table, Elena descended the stairs, her usually vibrant demeanor replaced by a somber expression. Natalya and Jenna exchanged concerned glances as Elena joined them at the table, her eyes cast downward. "Morning, lena. You okay?" Natalya asked, reaching out to gently squeeze her sister's hand. Elena managed a weak smile. "Yeah, just not feeling it today, you know?" she replied, her voice tinged with melancholy. Natalya nodded understandingly, offering her sister a supportive nod. Jenna chimed in, placing a comforting hand on Elena's shoulder. "You're not alone, Elena. We're here for you," she reassured, her words carrying a sense of warmth and understanding. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the staircase, signaling Jeremy's arrival. However, when he entered the kitchen, it was immediately evident that something was off. His eyes were bloodshot, and a faint scent lingered in the air, unmistakable to Natalya and Elena. Natalya furrowed her brow, concern evident in her voice. "Jeremy, are you okay?" she asked, eyeing him closely. Jeremy scoffed, his movements sharp. "Yeah, I'm fine," he retorted, his tone defensive. Elena exchanged a worried glance with Jenna, sensing the tension in the room. "Jeremy, it's obvious you're not okay. What's going on?" she pressed, her voice tinged with frustration. Jeremy shook his head adamantly. "I'm not high, okay? Just tired," he insisted, his words laced with defiance. Elena didn't hold back. "Jeremy, cut the act. We know what's up," she said bluntly, her tone cutting through the tension. "Just leave me alone. alright?" Jeremy said as he walked out of the house. The two sisters looked at each other. "Aunt Jenna, we're going to pick up bonnie. Love you." Natalya said as she grabbed her keys.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

The car ride to school was eerily quiet, the weight of their recent loss hanging heavily in the air. Natalya gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled determination, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. Beside her sat Elena, her expression somber as she stared out the window, lost in her thoughts. Bonnie, in the backseat, fidgeted nervously with the strap of her backpack, unsure of what to say. The three friends had been inseparable since childhood, but the events of the past summer had left them all reeling.As they approached the school gates, Natalya's grip on the steering wheel tightened. This would be their first day back since the accident that had claimed both of their parents' lives. The familiar sight of the school brought a flood of memories, both happy and painful.Elena let out a shaky breath, breaking the silence. "I don't know if I can do this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Natalya glanced at her sister, her own heart heavy with grief. "We'll get through this together, Elena. We have each other," she said, her voice filled with determination.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

As the three girls strolled down the halls of Mystic Falls High School, Bonnie animatedly recounted a conversation with her grandmother. "So, Grams tells me I'm psychic because we're descendants of the Celtic Druids. I know, right? I wasn't buying it either until I remembered my accuracy. I predicted Obama, David Cook, Heath Ledger, Britney's comeback, and I still think Florida will break off and become little resort islands. I think there's something to it," she explained, her voice filled with enthusiasm. Elena, lost in her own thoughts, paid little attention to Bonnie's ramblings as her gaze remained fixed on Matt, her ex-boyfriend. Bonnie noticed Elena's distraction and made eye contact with Natalya, who subtly gestured towards Matt. "Did I tell you about the orgy? I had the football team over. Threw a blindfold on. I still don't know who took my virginity -- EARTH TO ELENA," Bonnie exclaimed, snapping her fingers to get Elena's attention.

Startled, Elena jumped and turned her focus back to Bonnie. Behind her, Natalya struggled to suppress a laugh. "I'm sorry, it's just... I feel so bad. I broke up with him after our parents died, and... ugh, I don't know. I promise I heard what you said though," Elena apologized, leaning against the lockers. "Oh yeah? Then why don't you tell us what Elfie said?" Natalya teased, using a childhood nickname for Bonnie. Their grandmother, Sheila, had always played their favorite soundtrack, "Wicked," hence the nickname. "C'mon, then tell me," Bonnie urged, turning her attention back to Elena. "You were saying something about being psychic." Elena nodded, a curious expression on her face. "Huh, she missed the most important part," Natalya remarked, adjusting her hair. "Okay then, predict what's in store for me," Elena challenged, locking eyes with Bonnie. "I predict this year is going to be kick-ass. And I predict all the sad and dark moments are going away. You both are going to be happier than happy, with smoking hot sex too," Bonnie declared with a grin, her confidence shining through. Natalya scoffed at Bonnie's prediction. "Puh-lease, I'm not having piping hot sex with anyone. I'm waiting for a nice, rich guy, maybe older, to sweep me away and fly me to Paris before I put out," she stated matter-of-factly. "Well, it's always nice to have dreams, Glinda," Bonnie teased, her gaze shifting to Caroline, who was approaching their group. "Hey! Oh my gosh, Elena, Natalya, how are you guys? It's so good to see you," Caroline exclaimed, enveloping both girls in a tight hug. While Elena seemed less enthusiastic, Natalya reciprocated the hug with her usual bubbly demeanor. "Thanks, Caroline, we're hanging in there," Natalya replied as she pulled away, smiling warmly at her. As Elena busied herself with her locker, Caroline turned her attention to her. "So, have you seen Matt yet?" she inquired, her gaze fixed on Elena. Natalya's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't a secret that Elena and Matt had broken up. "They broke up, Caroline," Bonnie interjected, shooting Caroline a disapproving look. "I know, but that doesn't mean they can't talk," Caroline insisted, her attention still on Elena. "You're right, it doesn't. But Elena and I have been through a lot, so why would she want a constant reminder of the relationship that failed because our parents died?" Natalya snapped at Caroline, her frustration evident. As if on cue, Matt approached their group. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Natalya muttered under her breath to Bonnie, who smirked in response. "Hey, guys..." Matt's eyes scanned over all three girls before settling on Elena. She offered him a small smile, a departure from her usual demeanor. "Hi, Matt," she greeted softly, looking down. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Good to see you," he replied before walking off in the other direction. "Well, that was fucking weird. What was he trying to accomplish with that stupid move?" Natalya sighed, unable to make sense of Matt's actions. It baffled her how upset he seemed with Elena when she hadn't left him for someone else. Caroline turned around and walked away before she could worsen the situation. "You know, Lena, don't let Matt get to you with his stupid games. Same with Caroline. Well, actually, Caroline cares about you. Matt is TBD," Natalya remarked as the three girls started walking down the hallway. They passed the admin office when Bonnie abruptly stopped. "Who's that?" she questioned, prompting the sisters to look through the window. "We can only see his back," Elena responded. "Yeah, but it's a hot back," Natalya winked at Elena.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

The secretary looked up at Stefan as he leaned over the desk. "I'm sorry, but your records are incomplete," she said. "Are they?" Stefan mocked. "You're missing immunization records, transcripts, parental contact information..." she rambled, shaking her head. "We really prefer parents to come in and meet with us in person, and we absolutely insist on transcripts," she said, looking up at him. Stefan lowered his sunglasses as his eyes dilated, captivating the woman's gaze. "Please look again. I'm sure everything you need is there," he said. The secretary looked back down, slightly disoriented. "Well, would you look at that! You're right, everything is here."

"Please don't be ugly, please don't be ugly," Bonnie chanted as he slowly turned around and made eye contact with the girls. "Oh wow, ten out of ten handsome," Natalya remarked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jeremy walk past with what she called his stoner friends. She watched as he dragged his feet, swaying a bit. "Oh, he's definitely stoned," she thought to herself. She quickly excused herself as she watched him enter the men's room. She ran off towards the room, not angry at him, but upset with how terribly he was doing at hiding it. Jenna didn't deserve the shit storm that would come crashing down on her if the school found out. She slammed the men's room door open as Jeremy was putting eye drops in his eyes. Ignoring the two guys using the urinals, she grabbed Jeremy and spun him around, pushing him back a little. She took one look into his eyes and saw how bloodshot they were. Jeremy jerked his arm away from Natalya. "Great first day of school and you're stoned. You know I hate being the bad sister, but I can't keep letting you do this to yourself," she said. "I'm not stoned," he said. "You were stoned when you left the house this morning, Jeremy. Elena might have believed you, but I sure as hell didn't," she responded as she started digging through his coat pockets trying to find his stash. He jerked away, but she was faster. "Where is it? Is it on you?" she said, fighting with him. "You need to chill yourself," he said back in a lazy tone. "Chill yourself... Oh, stoner talk, you're so cool," she mocked him. "There's none on me, stop it," he said as he pushed her back, trying to get her to back down. "No, I'm going to be on your ass every single time. Do you even stop to think about how this is affecting others, Jeremy? I get it, you're hurting, and that's okay, do what you need to do. But don't do it where there are people who can make our lives an even bigger fucking mess than it is now. Do you even stop to think about how this could affect Aunt Jenna? The woman who stopped her life to take care of us so we weren't orphans? So, next time you go to take a hit from a bong, think to yourself... Is it worth it? Because I promise you, I will be there every time to ruin your buzz. Got it?" Natalya said frantically. Jeremy couldn't think of what to say, his silence scared Natalya. Did she let her anger get the best of her? Did she go too far? Her thoughts were running wild. "I know who you are, Jer, and it's not this person," she said softly. She watched as his eyes softened then hardened again. "I don't need this," he said, storming away. Stefan left the office and strolled down the hallway, drawing the attention of other students as he passed by. Bonnie and Elena followed behind him, intrigued to learn more about the mysterious new kid. He headed towards the men's room just as the door swung open, and Natalya walked out, colliding with him. They bumped into each other, and Natalya felt herself falling, but then she felt arms around her, steadying her. She looked up at the person she ran into. "Oh god, I'm sorry, and great, I'm coming out of the men's room," she said, running her hand through her hair. "Ugh, it's not what it seems like," she added, feeling flustered. He was gorgeous, more Elena's type than hers. "Pardon me," he said, stepping back. Natalya made a funny face at his old-fashioned language. "So, the men's room?" he retorted. "Yes, I was..." Natalya sighed. "Long story." She tried to step around him but bumped into him again. "Sorry," she said, finally managing to walk around him.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞!!

𝐎𝐦𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝟒 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧�� 𝐝𝐚𝐲!! 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝟔 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬!!

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 & 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭!!

𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎 -

𝐌𝐢𝐚 ♡

𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 : 𝟎𝟐/𝟐𝟗/𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 : 𝐭𝐛𝐝

#damon salvatore #elijah mikaelson #elena gilbert #fanfic #elijah mikealson smut #kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #bonnie bennett #stefan salvatore #fandom

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darkjanet2 · 1 year ago

Text

Sonic Adventure 2: Sonadow

Chapter 27: Sonic meets Venusmon

That night at the hospital, Sonic was in the operating room with a gurney right beside him, while the surgeons were strapped to their separate beds. The machines surrounding them beeped and clicked all of the time and were hooked up to life support equipment attached to IVs and monitors. There was an oxygen mask over Sonic's face as well. The surgeons began to operate Sonic on his own body.

They began by slicing through Sonic's skin as gently and swiftly as possible. It didn't hurt much, but every time the scalpel went into him, a small piece of skin came off. Soon it was all gone and there was nothing left except a little bloody mess under the microscope. When they were done, they began to stitch up Sonic's wounds from where he had gotten injured. He still couldn't feel anything, so they just covered up most of the stitches and left some holes behind. When it was finished, one of the doctors wrapped him in gauze. They were ready to give him the injection. He would wake up and have a full recovery.

In the waiting room, Shadow, Amy, and Tails were sitting in the chairs except Knuckles was pacing back and forth. All four of them were trying not to think about what would happen next. Amy and Tails were sleeping soundly in their chairs while Knuckles paced back and forth. Shadow was sitting still in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest with his eyes closed. He got annoyed when Knuckles kept walking back and forth in front of him.

"Knux!" said Shadow irritably. "Would you stop pacing? I'm trying to sleep here."

"What? You can't sleep if you're worried! I don't know why you even care!" snapped Knuckles. "Why do you always have to be such a drama queen?" He turned around to go back to his seat when he noticed something out of place. Shadow had fallen asleep in the waiting room when Sonic was having surgery. He hoped his lover was okay. But he knew that his hopes were pointless. He should probably try to get some sleep himself. So, he sat down. Ten minutes later, the doctor came out of the operating room, Shadow and Knuckles looked at her to see what was happening. This doctor was a beautiful woman with brunette long hair that was tied up in a bun, and piercing green eyes with black rim eyeglasses. Her name was Dr. Linda Harrison.

"How is he, doctor?" Shadow asked her.

"He's fine. He's going to make a complete recovery after all this," she said. "Yet he's in a coma for several days. We'll keep monitoring him until we know that he's alright again. Until then we'll keep him sedated."

"Is he waking up soon?" asked Knuckles.

The doctor shook her head. "I'm afraid not. That's part of the problem now that he's asleep. But I'm sure he'll regain consciousness soon."

With that, Dr. Harrison went back inside Sonic's room, followed by a group of nurses who helped her prepare everything she needed to take care of the patient. Shadow turned his attention to Knuckles. "Well?" asked Shadow. "Did you manage to find a lead yet?" Knuckles nodded. Shadow sighed in relief.

Dr. Harrison came out of Sonic's room a few minutes later, carrying a clipboard. She took her glasses off, cleaned them on the end of her shirt, and put them back on. "You're all cleared to visit your friend now," she told them.

"Thank you," said Shadow. "Can we see him first?"

She nodded, "Of course, but try not to overwhelm him." Shadow thanked her again, then stood up. Before the others could get out of their chairs, Knuckles woke Amy and Tails up and told them to lead the way to Sonic's room. Once they entered the room, Sonic was sleeping in the hospital bed with a heartbeat monitor and an IV drip attached to his arm. There was an oxygen mask attached to Sonic's mask to help him breathe. He had white bandages on his right arm and his abdomen from surgery. He looked exhausted. He was asleep so deep that they could barely tell that he was awake or breathing.

"Wow...he looks awful," whispered Amy in shock.

Tails nodded, "Yeah..."

"I hope he recovers soon," said Knuckles.

Shadow sighed and walked up to the bed. He looked at his lover's face and saw that Sonic was still unconscious. Then, he sat down on the chair beside the bed and placed his hand on Sonic's forehead.

"Hey," he spoke softly. "I'm sorry about what happened to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you." Shadow let his tears flow freely. He hadn't cried since they buried him. He had forgotten how painful it was to cry when someone died. He lost his friend Maria when she was shot, and now he couldn't lose another one. After all these years, he finally realized how true that saying really was that time heals all wounds. Even death couldn't kill Shadow's love for Sonic. Even though he was unconscious, Sonic could hear Shadow talking to him."It's okay," he whispered to himself. "You're okay. No one will ever hurt you like that again."

"Well, it's 2:17 AM. Let's go home and let him rest," said Tails.

"I agree," said Amy.

Amy and Tails walked out of Sonic's room while Knuckles looked at Shadow, still holding his hand on Sonic's forehead.

"Are you coming or what?" asked Knuckles impatiently.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Shadow was to leave and looked at Sonic once more before leaving. He smiled sadly to himself. "Get well soon, Sonic," He kissed him on his forehead and left the room.

Outside the hospital, the air was chilly. In the distance, they could see the city lights twinkling on the horizon. The moon was full and the stars were twinkling brightly, giving them some light to see by. As they walked down to the parking lot, Tails yawned and rubbed his eyes. He took out his phone and contacted an Uber to take Tails and Amy home. Five minutes later, an Uber driver arrived, Tails and Amy waved goodbye to Knuckles and Shadow and they waved them back as they went inside and left.

"Do you want to catch an Uber or something?" asked Knuckles.

"No, I have my Chaos Emerald with me. It's faster than taking the bus or subway, especially when it's dark out," replied Shadow.

Knuckles nodded, "Okay, take care, Shadow."

"You, too." Shadow raised his green gem in the air. "Chaos Control!" he shouted as he vanished in a flash of green lightning.

Now that Knuckles was alone. "Well, I guess it's time for me to go," he said as he took a fly swatter out of nowhere and flew up through the city streets, heading to Angel Island and guarding his Master Emerald.

Three weeks later, it was around 10 AM, and a white female bat was at the cafe, drinking tea. She was dressed in a purple denim jacket, a black crop top, white jeans, and black boots. She wore sunglasses on top of her head. She was enjoying her tea and reading her book. Her phone rang, she checked the caller ID and it was Amy Rose.

"Hello?" she answered her phone.

"Hi, Rogue, it's me," said Amy.

"Oh, hi, Amy," Rouge responded. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you take me to the hospital. I have to visit Sonic. He's in a coma right now," said Amy.

"Oh, sure, I'll meet you there in 15 minutes," said Rouge.

Rouge hung up the phone and got up from her seat. Just then, Rouge began to drive her white Lamborghini. When she saw Amy standing outside at the flower shop, she carried a bouquet of white daisies and lilies out. She approached the rose-pink hedgehog, she gently honked a horn when Amy saw Rouge in a white Lamborghini.

"Hello, Amy. How are you doing?" said Rouge.

"I'm good," said Amy.

"Hop in," Rouge smiled and opened the passenger side door. Amy climbed into the car, and they drove away together. About ten minutes later, they arrived at the hospital. They parked the car and made their way inside. Amy stopped in front of the receptionist's desk.

“Hi,” Amy greeted her.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the receptionist looked at her with kind blue eyes.

“We’re here to visit Sonic the Hedgehog,” said Amy.

“Ah, yes. He’s on the second floor to the right. The room number is 216,” the receptionist gave Amy directions. “Please make sure to inform us if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” said Amy. She took the flowers from Rouge and walked towards Room 216, which was right across from the elevators. She knocked on the door before opening it up. She peered in to see Sonic lying peacefully in bed, hooked up to his life support machines. He had a nasal cannula in his nostril

to help him breathe. His body was wrapped up in a blanket and his skin looked extremely pale. On the sides of his bed, there was a heart monitor, an IV pump, and a tube connected to his right arm. He also had an ECG machine on his chest that was beeping rhythmically.

“Sonic?” said Amy quietly. She stepped closer to him, careful not to disturb any of his things. She sat down on the edge of his bed and carefully took hold of his hand. Sonic didn’t stir. “I know that you can hear me."

Rouge placed her hand on Amy's shoulder reassuringly, "He'll be alright, hun. He should wake up soon."

Amy didn’t say anything; she just continued holding Sonic’s hand and caressing it with her thumb. She wished he could wake up from a coma already because she wanted nothing more than for Sonic to open his eyes and look at her. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to do that. Because of what happened to Sonic, even though Sonic did come out of the coma after Eggman attacked.

"I hope so," sighed Amy.

A few minutes later, Sonic had a strange dream. He found himself in a beautiful garden with colorful flowers. The sound of water flowing and the birds chirping filled in his ears. He was walking through the garden, looking up and admiring the bright colors of the trees and bushes that lined the ground. He could see the waterfall where the fish came from that sparkled and glimmered in the sun with a colorful rainbow. He stared at nature in awe.

'Am... am I in heaven?' thought Sonic.

He looked around at his surroundings and suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. Sonic whirled around, expecting to see someone who resembled him, but there was no one there except for him.

"Who's there?!" said Sonic, prepared to fight.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart," a woman’s voice spoke from behind.

Suddenly, the woman appeared before him. It was a beautiful woman, like a goddess. She had beautiful long, flowing blonde hair braided updo hairstyle tied with a white ribbon. She wore a white long maxi dress that revealed her sexy legs and her large cleavage. She wore these two necklaces; one with silver, and one with an apple pendant. She wore silver armor arm guards and boot guards. The white ribbon tied her eyes like a blindfold. She had a dove on her right hand and she had a blue clam on her left hand.

"I didn't mean to scare you," said the beautiful woman.

"Wh-who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Venusmon," she said. "I'm one of Olympos XII and I rule over love," she bowed to him.

'Olympos XII?! That's another mythological being,' thought Sonic. 'She must be real!'

"Uh, you don't need to bow to me. My name's Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog," he pointed to himself with his thumb.

Venusmon giggled, "Well, Sonic, it's nice to meet you. Come, let's sit somewhere and talk."

"Sure," Sonic agreed as he followed her.

They both sat down under a large tree.

"So tell me," asked Venusmon, "Why are you here?"

"Umm... I... uh..." Sonic was nervous. "I was fighting with Eggman that he destroyed the city and tried to take over the world. I was trying to save my friends, but he summoned a new robot, Neo Metal Sonic, who looked exactly like me."

Venusmon nodded and listened intently to Sonic.

"Neo Metal Sonic was so powerful and I couldn't save friends. I wasn't strong enough to save them. He tried to end my life, but luckily Shadow came to save me and finished them off," said Sonic, remembering everything about Neo Metal Sonic that he knew.

"Hmmm..." murmured Venusmon. "I see," she said. "And so, you came here to protect your friends and your loved ones."

"Yes. Shadow saved me from Neo Metal Sonic," confirmed Sonic.

"How did he save you?" she asked.

"Shadow was flying above Neo Metal Sonic and threw an arrow that hit Neo Metal Sonic in the back of his head, killing him," explained Sonic. "I started to black out and ended up going to the hospital."

Venusmon hummed softly, "That explains a lot. You may want to get some rest, Sonic."

"Hey, Venusmon? Am I really dead?" asked Sonic.

She giggled, "No, sweetie, you're alive and well." She gently stroked Sonic's cheek, smiling at him.

"You're just dreaming in a coma," she whispered to him.

"Oh, God! Am I in a coma? How long have I been out?" asked Sonic.

"About 3 weeks, ” she replied, “but you'll be fine soon. Don't worry, Sonic."

"Okay," said Sonic, feeling relieved. "Thanks." He relaxed a bit, feeling comfortable with Venusmon.

"Hey, can I tell you something?" asked Sonic.

"Of course," Venusmon assured Sonic.

"Umm, I kinda love Shadow..." said Sonic.

She giggled, "Really?"

"Yeah!" answered Sonic enthusiastically. "I met him in the street city. This guy looks exactly like me. But he was different," he said. "The police thought I stole a gem from the bank and tried to frame me."

"Hmm... interesting," Venusmon mumbled.

"Yeah, I was falsely accused of stealing a gem. I had to flee from the police where I met Shadow. He was the one who stole Chaos Emerald," said Sonic.

"Was he a criminal?" asked Venusmon.

"He used to be, but not anymore. He's a hero now," Sonic replied.

"Wow, that's quite the story," Venusmon said.

"Can I tell you something more?" asked Sonic.

Venusmon nodded, "Mmm-hmm."

"Shadow and I are in love. We've been together ever since," said Sonic, blushing a little.

Venusmon smiled warmly, "That's great to hear. Have you told him yet?"

"Not yet, but I will eventually. After all, Shadow is my boyfriend," said Sonic.

"Then tell him how you feel when you talk to him next time," said Venusmon.

"Will do," Sonic replied.

In a flash of white, Sonic finally came out of a coma. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting slightly as he adjusted to the sudden brightness in his surroundings. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed he was surrounded by people.

"Wh-where am I?" asked Sonic.

Amy gasped. "Sonic!" She went to hug him. "I'm so happy to see you awake!"

"Yeah, I'm okay, Amy," said Sonic.

"How do you feel?" asked Rouge.

"Rouge! It's so great to see you!" exclaimed Sonic. "I thought we were gonna lose each other forever."

Rouge laughed as she shook her head, "No way, bro. I would never abandon you."

Sonic looked around the room. "Where's Tails and the others?" he asked.

"They're busy. I'll have to call them with great news, and I'll tell the doctor that you're already awake," said Amy as she pressed the button. And she went outside and called her friends to tell them the great news.

"So I heard you fought with Eggman," said Rouge as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, I did," admitted Sonic as he scratched his head. "And I think I lost to Neo Metal Sonic."

"Damn, I wish I could have come here and save you," lamented Rouge.

"Don't worry about it. If it was up to me, I'd never let Eggman live," said Sonic.

"I know," Rouge chuckled.

Sonic lay down on his bed, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. "You know, I still can't believe I'm alive!"

"I can understand why you're so surprised," said Rouge. "When Eggman attacked the city, I was shocked too. It took you months to recover after that battle. By the way, how much longer do you plan to stay here?" she asked.

"My belly was torn up pretty badly. But I'll be resting up for 3 months. Then I'll go home and take care of myself. And then when I'm recovered, I'm coming back to help take care of you guys. You know, make sure everyone is safe."

"I agree," said Rouge.

"By the way, what happened to Eggman?" asked Sonic.

"He's in prison. So he won't bother anyone anymore," Rouge answered.

"Good," he replied.

Dr. Harrison came into the room, wearing a white lab coat. She smiled at Sonic.

"Hello, Sonic," Dr. Harrison greeted.

"Hi," he smiled.

"I'm Dr. Linda Harrison," she introduced herself. "Today is your first day of recovery, so I'll just give you some basic information. Today, you'll be staying here for 3 months while your body heals. We can do a few tests later to see if you're ready to leave the hospital."

"That sounds good," said Sonic.

"Alright, I'm going to examine you," she said as she produced the stethoscope and began to check Sonic's breathing. After several minutes of checking Sonic's health, she put the stethoscope down around her neck.

"Everything seems normal," said Dr. Harrison, "you should be discharged within 3 months."

"Thank you, Dr. Harrison," said Sonic.

"No problem, Sonic," smiled Dr. Harrison as she turned to leave the room.

Amy came back carrying a bag of sugar cookies that she made that morning.

"Here, Sonic," said Amy as she handed the bag to him, "It's your favorite! They're sugar cookies. It's delicious, I promise!"

"Thanks," Sonic took one cookie and took a bite. "This is really good, Amy!"

Amy giggled, "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."

The sun began to set at 6 PM, Amy and Rouge said goodbye to Sonic and went to their homes while Sonic went back to sleep and met Venusmon again.

#fanfiction #sonic adventure 2 #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #enemies to lovers #first kiss #yaoi bl #first love #first sex #venusmon

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