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thexsilentxwordsmith · 3 months ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon has a secret, one that is making him push you away. But after being given an assignment that will keep him away for months, he knows that if he doesn't tell you now, he will lose you. So, here he is, sitting outside your work, trying to work up the courage to get you to talk to him...just as a storm rolls in. Now it looks like he will have to make his confession in the rain.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

Simon's lips are wrapped tightly around his cigarette, pulling long deep drags off of it to fill up his lungs and numb his mind while he fights with himself on what to do. Those golden eyes peering out through the gap in his folded up mask are fixated on the back door to the local bar as he sits on his bike at the back of the parking lot. He knows you're in there as it's your shift tonight and though he wants to go in, he can't. Not yet.

Hes fucked up royally this time, more than the little bullshit misunderstandings you’ve both had over the time you’ve been together. No, this time it isn’t something a sincere apology and some sweet action can quickly fix; he had pushed you away out of fear when in truth all he really wanted to do was to bring you closer, and now he's running out of time to try and undo the damage. A long mission is looming over his head and if he doesn't act now the fragility of your relationship will crumble apart.

That’s why he’s at the one place he knows you’ll be tonight, the one place he has a chance of getting you to talk to him because there’s something he needs to tell you…something he should have said a lot sooner.

But now that he’s here he realizes that he’s paralyzed by the uncertainty; what if it's already too late? Wouldn't it be better to stay in this limbo then know the truth? At least that type of pain he can compartmentalize, tuck neatly away so that a mild distraction will keep him from focusing on it.

Yet...there’s still a flicker of hope that has him in a chokehold: what if there is a chance?

Simon plucks the butt of his spent cig from his lips and flicks it to the ground, the third one he's finished sitting here working up the courage to go inside and find you. Maybe one more and he’ll finally be ready. Pulling the pack out of his jacket pocket he opens it and wrenches out another, but before he can even bring the stick to his lips he hears the click of the back door opening and immediately pulls down the lip of his mask back over his chin out of habit. His heart stops and forcefully restarts as the figure is revealed, illuminated under the spotlight attached to the outside of the building.

You step out into the night with a yelled goodbye to your coworkers over your shoulder before the door closes behind you and latches shut. The air is cool and there's a rush of a breeze that blows through to tangle the loose strands from your ponytail, the first signs of a storm rolling in.

Good thing you're off early tonight.

Crossing the lot to your car you suddenly get that uneasy feeling from eyes being on you that causes you to survey your surroundings and sure enough you find the source dismounting his bike and heading straight for you. It’s Simon. Your heart is in your throat as you quickly dig for your keys in your purse; you don't know if you have the strength to deal with whatever this is tonight and need to get out of here.

That hulking figure dressed in black from head to toe hasn't said a word to you yet, but you still call back to him in a warning. "Not now, Simon," you say through gritted teeth, keeping your head down to stare at your feet until you reach your car. The keys are in your hand ready to unlock the door as soon as you reach it so you can escape.

Simon finally finds his voice; it’s now or never.

"Just hang on a fuckin second and listen, will ya?" he tries to reason, but you aren't having it. Fuck, you’re picking up the pace and now he's desperate to stop you. He's certain that if you get in your car then he’ll never get his chance.

"No," you say, shaking your head, still not facing him. "Why should I listen to you when you've been avoiding me for weeks now, leaving me on fucking read all the time, being flaky when I can get you to answer. You don't get to just pop back up and think I'm going to forget all that. You can be a bit thick at times, but this is too much."

He knows he deserves this, but hearing the pain in your voice stings in his chest. "I can explain, luv..."

"Save it," you interject as you make it to your car, stabbing in the key to get the door unlocked and opened.

That masked military man is desperate and before you can even react your grip on the handle slips as he slams the door closed right in your face and keeps his hand pressed to it. It takes you a second to recover, but you turn around on your heels to face him, anger and frustration welling up fast. "Move your hand so I can go. I’m tired."

Simon stands his ground, hand firmly in place with no sign of moving it. "No, I need ya ta listen ta me. Just for a minute."

You shove your way past him. "Fine, I'll walk."

Fast steps fueled by anger have you booking it across the parking lot just as another huge gust of wind pushes against your body while a distant roll of thunder sounds. Great, you’re gonna get drenched before you make it back to your place now, but you can’t turn around, you can’t let him break your heart even more by talking. You just need to keep walking.

“Come back,” he yells after you as he too takes off in your footsteps, but you aren’t listening.

You shake your head and he watches the back of it move. “No, no I won’t.”

Clouds overhead swirl in dark, threatening patterns with just barely enough moonlight to illuminate them as a low rumble sounds closer. The storm is approaching faster, but it’s nothing compared to the storm brewing inside you as you fear the worst, that everything is on the verge of tumbling down and there is no way for you to stop it.

A few quickly jogged steps and he’s caught up to you; damn his long legs. His large hands wrap around your shoulders to force you to come to a stop so he can turn you around to face him again. “Why can’t ya jus’ listen a moment…”

It’s hard to keep your gaze diverted, but you don’t want to meet his eyes, not until you can put a little more distance between your bodies so that he can’t see the emotion welling in the depths. If this is going to happen, he’s not going to see you breakdown.

“Cause I think your actions have spoken enough,” you say as you squirm in his grasp until he is compelled to release your shoulders and you can move back from him.

Simon’s brow furrows as you put space between you, space that he desperately doesn’t want, but at least he has you here and for the moment that is all he can ask. “Look, let me jus’ explain somethin’,” he starts, but before he can utter another word the sky opens up and suddenly releases a deluge down onto both of you so that the heavy droplets are already soaking through your clothes and Simon’s mask in seconds. He cannot stand the feeling of it clinging suffocatingly tight to his face and in an angered huff he rips it off his head and shoves it into the back pocket on his jeans.

“Fuck Simon, can we just call this what it is?” you blurt out over the sound of heavy drops splashing down around you, “I don’t want to stand here in the fucking rain and drag this out, okay? We both know why you’re here.”

A web of lightning rolls out across the heavens as Simon struggles to comprehend your words. “What the fuck are ya on bout?” he shouts.

You forcefully swipe back a few stray strands of hair that are sticking to your face. “You’ve been pulling away from me for weeks now. Do you know how fucking hard that is to just watch? I’ve tried to pretend that it was all in my head for long enough, but I don’t want to turn a blind eye to it anymore.”

The emotion grips his heart and he struggles to breathe. “Jus’ stop, god dammit. Tha’s not it…”

You stare at him through the droplets running off your eyelashes, mixing with the tears falling from your eyes so that you can’t tell which is which. It’s enough; you can’t change the feeling that you’ve already lost him, so you can only self preserve. “No, I’m not going to leave this. You already did that, so I’m done.”

“Done, you’re jus’ fuckin’ done? Jus’ like that?” he bellows the question over the rain.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m fine with being shut out from whatever it is that’s in your head? Just admit that you want this thing we have to be over and we can both go our separate ways.”

He runs his fingers over his scalp through wet blonde locks, an irate smile on his lips. “Is that what ya think this is? God dammit, luv, is that what ya really fuckin’ think I want? After all this time? That I would just up an’ fuckin’ leave ya?”

“Then tell me, tell me why the fuck you’ve been so distant lately. Tell me right fucking now Simon or I’m walking away and we are finished for good.” You’re yelling so loud now you’re sure someone inside the loud, music-filled bar will be able to hear you two bickering, but you’re about to lose something precious to you and you don’t care.

And he matches your volume as he hates himself for letting it get this far, for pushing you to the brink of breaking up just because he is too afraid to admit the truth to the one person he trusts even more than himself. It might be too late, but if he doesn’t at least say it now he will hate himself for the rest of his life. You have to know.

“Because I fuckin’ love ya, tha’s why.”

The words slam into you full force, knocking the wind from your lungs as if you’ve been hit and you struggle to catch any bit of air again. You stand there, staring back silently into his face as you take in what he just said as your brain cannot seem to compute that this is what was causing him to be so detached lately. He loves you?

Simon takes a step in towards you, trying to bridge the gap that was caused by his actions as of late. “Didn’t know how ta say it cause I’m fuckin’ terrified ‘a this, that by sayin’ somethin’ as big as this it will ruin it all. I don’t ‘ave the best luck in this department. Do ya know what it’s like to fear somethin’ tha’s supposed ta make ya happy? I don’t wanna fuckin’ lose ya.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat to speak aloud the question that is burning on your tongue. Your voice wavers, but you get out the words. “Are you really telling me the truth?”

Another few steps, more space reduced so that he is nearly against you and now even through the raindrops dripping off his long eyelashes the parking lot spotlight still glints through the emotion burning in those dark eyes. Soundlessly he reaches for your hand and turning it palm side down he places it against the middle of his chest on his shirt.

“Do ya feel how fast that’s fuckin’ goin’, sweetheart?” he asks as he presses down on the back of your hand.

You can feel his pulse pounding hard against his ribcage even through his soaked t-shirt, its thunderous beat hitting back against the skin in rapid tempo. He takes a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs as best as he can, and it shudders through his torso.

“Ya think that’s lyin’?” he asks and you shake your head as you stare back up into his eyes. “Christ, I shoulda said it so much sooner cause it’s fuckin’ killin’ me ta know I made ya think tha worst. So I’ll say it again: I love ya, sweetheart.”

You instantly forget that the rain is filling your shoes, that your hair is stuck to your head, that your cold, drenched clothes are clinging irritatingly to your body; all that’s left is you and him lost in this moment and suddenly all that distress that had been filling your heart dissipates into thin air.

The rise and fall of Simon’s chest counts the seconds as you both just stand in quiet of each other while the storm fills the space with static. He needs you to say something, anything; to break the silence that is now eating away at him after opening himself up raw like this. Maybe it’s still too late, maybe the damage is too severe, and he curses himself for squandering his one chance at something he so desperately wants.

Yet you’re still here even though you could have already told him off and walked away. He has to hold on to that because the alternative he is sure will kill him. “Say that ya love me too,” he begs, an act that is just as rare as his confession. “Fuck, please…I know I’m a god damn idiot for waitin’ so fuckin’ long, but I can’t lose ya. I can’t. You’re the only fuckin’ thing ‘round here that I can’t live without.”

You get caught up in the intensity of his gaze like a snare and suddenly you can't think as you take in the emotion in his eyes and all you know like a feeling in your bones is that you need him. Only him. He really loves you. That desperation in his voice is palpable and though you want to say something, your body moves before your brain can catch up to its action and you quickly close the rest of the short distance between your wet bodies to lean up into him and with your hand wrapping around the back of his head you pull his face in to connect your mouths in a moistened, heated kiss.

The raindrops run down between your bodies as your lips dance in feverish bursts. He wraps his arms around you, securing your slick bodies together in an embrace that feels like he’s afraid you’ll still leave, but not even the storm can pull you from him now because you don’t have to think about it… you love him too.

Breaking the connection for only a second, you inhale to have just enough breath to say what you need to. “I love you,” you whisper.

The way he captures your mouth as the last syllable leaves your lips makes you dizzy from the intensity, each new embrace is another apology written on the flesh. He is trying to swallow down those words faster than you can draw in air to keep yourself from passing out. Your body is completely enveloped by the bulk of his, those bulging muscles along his abdomen pressing into you as his arms keep you locked tightly in his consuming embrace. His need overwhelms every sense and it’s like an electrical current is shared through your tangled, soaked limbs.

But the closeness isn’t enough; Simon is still in agony and he needs more. Large, coarse hands cup around your face, rough thumbs stroking over the damp skin along your jaw as his tongue juts out from between his teeth and over his lips to prod against yours until you open your mouth and allow him to thrust it in. That thick muscle fills the cavity full as he explores, tasting you, devouring your kiss as if it is the only thing keeping him alive.

All you can do is cling to him as you lose yourself in the passion of each embrace, each one burying the sentiment of his confession further into your soul. You had missed his touch more than you thought and now that you have it back, you don’t want it to end. “Please…” you breathe through a break in the connection of his mouth.

Finally he pulls your face from his, but still keeps his lips close so that the heat from his breath makes yours tingle. “What do ya want, sweetheart?” he groans, his speech slurred as if he’s drunk off your kisses alone.

Words are a struggle, so you choose the most effective one that will make him understand that he can’t stop now. “You.”

Placing another kiss to your swollen lips, he releases your face and grabs your hand securely in his. “C’mon.”

He guides you by the hand back the short distance to your car, gets the door open, and helps you into the back seat before climbing inside himself. You move to the opposite side of the car to give him room, but all that space is soon filled as he is close behind, moving in and pinning you against the door, his entire body weight pressing into you so that wet clothes and skin rub together as the rain outside beats against the car in tiny percussive hits.

“God, I fuckin’ missed ya, luv,” he grunts as his hands move up under your shirt to get at the warm skin of your abdomen.

Simon’s hands start to pry off wet clothing from both of you as fast as he can remove them, his mouth immediately finding the newly revealed bare bits of skin to adore with heated kisses that make your flesh prickle with goosebumps from the temperature. Each embrace of his mouth makes you more sensitive until he has you with eyes closed moaning into his ear.

There is an electrical pulse that bursts over his flesh as your bodies connect skin to skin, still damp and cold from the rain, and he groans deeply into your mouth as he pulls you under him.

“Need ya so bad, luv,” he breathes over your shoulder before his lips kiss the heat deeper into your skin as he works on undoing your pants. “Need ta make up for all that fuckin’ time I wasted.”

His hand descends into the opening he's created and parts through the plushness of your thighs until he’s between them and inside your panties.

“Fuck, ya feel so good,” he says in a desperate strain of his gruff voice as he cups his large, rough palm over the soft lips of your pussy to make you moan into the silence of the car.

Those fingers of his know exactly what to do, parting through your lips as easily as butter to find your clit and then drawing tight circles over the bud with an expertise that can only come from someone who knows your body as intimately as he does. It’s muscle memory at this point and that allows him to enjoy the view as you fall apart to his touch.

Silently he gazes into your face with a newfound tenderness in those dark eyes, adoringly watching you as those emotions he’s tried to suppress out of fear come bubbling to the surface with each wave of pleasure that ripples across your features and he doesn’t hold them back. His heart burns with the intensity of his feelings almost as if it’s about to burst at the seams, but he wants to feel it all, every last bit of it.

"I was a fucking fool to risk losin’ ya," he whispers amidst your whimpers as his fingers draw you ever closer to that pressurized release.

Your hand reaches out to run along the seam of his zipper until you find his bulge to rub it over and over. “I forgive you, Simon, I forgive you. Just…be here with me now,” you reassure and all that self-loathing he had built up dissipates with your words and the stroking of your hand. “I’ve…missed you Simon.”

“Missed ya too, sweetheart. So fuckin’ much.”

Letting go of all that doubt and worry and fear, his body responds to your touch in need of more friction and he grinds his hips into you until his cock is straining the fabric of his jeans and he knows you can count his pulse from how hard it’s throbbing in your hand. His fingers are now coated in your honey as he keeps them buried in you and he plans to keep going until you cum on them.

That is until you start to plead. “Can’t wait, baby,” you murmur into his face. “Don’t want to wait. Need you now.”

This is about you now and there is no way he is going to deny you tonight. “Anythin’ for you,” he returns and before you can speak again he’s already moving back off of you to take the waist of your jeans in his hands to rip them down as you lift your hips to help him. He takes everything, including your soaked panties, down and off so they are out of his way. Just as rapidly he undoes his own jeans and shoves them down over the curve of his ass towards his knees until his cock springs free of its cage.

You open your legs wider as he adjusts himself back between them. The tip of his member is leaking a little precum, but it isn’t enough; he needs to be sure he’s good and lubricated before ever entering you and he has just the solution that he created himself. Simon holds onto the base and pushes himself through the lips of your pussy, thrusting through them in and out to coat himself in your slick until you can’t take another second of his unintentional torture.

“Please baby,” you beg as his shaft stimulates your clit. “I need you inside me now. Please…please…”

Simon smirks. “Goddamn, ya sound so pretty,” he breathes the words against your raw lips as he steals them again, trying to drink your whimpers down like nectar as he aligns the head of his cock with your entrance.

Those strong hands hold your hips steady as he clenches his abdominals and drives himself carefully up into you until your body gives way to his girth. The stretch causes your walls to expand quickly as you take him in all the way down to the base and you cry out at the delicious feeling of suddenly being so completely full of him as your head falls back against the now fogged up glass of the window.

It doesn't last as a familiar touch at the back of your head guides it up. “Stay with me, sweet girl,” he says with a shudder as he struggles to calm himself now that he's wrapped in your warmth.

You give him a quick nod and wrap your arms around his neck to hold on and he rests his forehead against your own so that with each slow, deep thrust he can punctuate it with a gentle kiss. Your damp bodies slip against each other more now as the perspiration created from your copulation coats over all that exposed skin until you both sparkle in the soft overhead lights of the parking lot.

“Say it again,” you moan into the tight space between your lips. “I want to hear it again.”

Even in the haze of his ecstasy, Simon knows what you want and doesn’t hesitate anymore. “I love you,” he says, his hot breath pushing the words into your mouth.

Is it the words and their sentiment or his cock that is overwhelming you so that your mind is left scrambling in a haze of pleasure? You aren’t sure; all you know is that you’ve never felt this sensitive before, like every nerve ending is being stimulated at the same time and it’s hard to hold onto your sanity. There is nothing left in your world, nothing but you and him and the euphoria you share between your writhing bodies.

Simon is feeling it too as his hips roll into you with a sense of urgency; he’s getting close, but he has to be sure you come first. Reaching between your bodies into the gap created from this position, he guides his hand down the warm, glistening skin of your pelvis to slip his fingers back between your damp petals and up against your swollen clit. You mewl pitifully into his face with your mouth hung open as the pleasure radiates out from that tiny bead that his fingers rub over and you can’t help but try and push against his hand that is keeping your head locked to his as you desperately try to arch your back.

“Fuck, I’m gonna… mmmm… I’m gonna…” You can’t get the words out as each time you try another wave of ecstasy rolls through you, stealing your breath along with what’s left of your sanity.

Panting into your face, his hips keep the rhythm steady for each thrust so that nothing stalls your oncoming release. “Cum for me, sweetheart,” he groans against your bottom lip as his fingers slip through all that natural lubrication that begins to dribble down over the back of his hand towards his knuckles the longer he strokes. “I need ya ta fuckin’ come for me.”

Close so close, it’s right there and it only takes another minute to reach. With a cry, all that pressure finally explodes and you cum with a fury that has your thighs locking around him as the walls of your cunt clamp down and he can’t hang on a moment more.

Those raw lips of his catch yours as he lets go, moaning desperately into your mouth as his cum bursts up into you, your legs still locked so that he can’t pull out until he has given you all that he has. His thrusts rapidly slow with a few stray grunts until he comes to a stop and hangs over you completely spent and only able to pant as the faint sounds of the rain hitting the metal roof begin to slow.

His limbs are trembling as he pulls back from you to collapse against the opposite door, pulling you over top of him to rest once he’s situated, and he’s able to play that quivering off as if it is the comedown from his release, but that isn’t the reason for his reaction. Never in his life has he shared such an intimate moment with someone. Sex is one thing, but this…this is so much more and his heart aches as it is allowed to truly feel for the first time.

You notice that tumultuous look in his eyes, feel that tremor that accentuated with shaky breath, and understand the weight of the connection you both have shared tonight. Reaching up, you stroke your fingertips over his temple and along his cheek, gazing up into his face through heavy breaths with a gentle smile on your lips and contented exhaustion in your eyes until he looks down at you securely in his embrace.

“I love you.”

He smiles. “I love ya too.”

Minutes pass as you both drift back down from that high with your body wrapped in his arms and your head resting against his chest. Each strong heartbeat pounds against your ear and you count them one by one as they start to slow and you feel his touch against your face.

“Ya know, never gave a damn ‘bout bein’ religious,” Simon says quietly as his fingertips stroke over the soft, delicate skin of your cheek, “but fuck, sometimes I think somethin’ divine must a made ya just for me. And I fuckin’ hate myself for nearly throwin’ it all away.”

He places his lips against your temple, a silent promise to never make that risk again. No matter what happens after tonight, his love is yours.

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angelltheninth · 2 months ago

Note

Hey you know that trope where (usually) friends have to hide from a suspecting enemy but there is nowhere to really hide so the next best thing as to not draw attention to themselves is “quick we have to kiss because they are onto us!” One example is that one kiss scene with Steve rogers and Natasha.

Can you please write Clark, Bruce, Dick and Jason being in that similar scenario with reader? Whoever initiated it is up to you :)

I've written multiple fics with that exact premise, I know the trope very well.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, undercover mission, kissing, catching feelings, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Would do this with Clark more than anyone tbh. He's so cute!

BRUCE WAYNE

Takes his mission very seriously, a lot serious than you actually. Not to say that you don't but as long as you're at a fancy party you might as well have fun with Bruce. He however wants to get in, get out and get the mission over with without the two of you getting discovered, which proves harder when people keep whispering about what a cute couple you are and looking at you all the time. When he tilts your chin and captures your lips in a kiss he notes the surprised sound that leaves your lips after which he tells you he's sorry for the quick decision, but he needed to sell the idea of the two of you actually being a couple now that that is the most popular narrative and the one that will help the two of you the most.

DICK GRAYSON

Is more than happy to go on a mission with you and be your pretend boyfriend for the evening, now if only he could gather up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend for real. Maybe he will if this mission goes well, it would make him a lot less awkward around you at the very least. Dick keeps glancing at you and at the people around you, hearing them getting more and more suspicious of the two of you right before you pull him by the tie and take him to the dance floor, smirking the whole time. As he's blushing his body falls into a rhythm with yours, the movements natural, the music and the atmosphere getting to his head so much that he kisses you at the very end of the dance, eliciting cheers and claps from the crowd, no more doubt.

RED HOOD

Loved the fact that the two of you got picked for this mission because it gives him even more chance to tease you and make you blush. Jason knows he can be a bit of an ass sometimes, okay, a lot of the time, but that doesn't diminish the fact that he still enjoys your company a lot more than the company of others. The people around the two of you are constantly looking over, at you specifically and he hates that, he was supposed to look at you like that, not anyone else so he leans in close and asks you for a kiss, otherwise he fears someone might ask you instead and he will blow your cover. Blushing at his request you smash your lips against his to shut down any smug words he might say to you next.

CLARK KENT

Was flustered when you asked him to be your partner on this mission, but he did say yes, he wanted to go, he wanted to make sure you were safe. He was a little fidgety around you, nervously glancing at you, at your lips, at your pretty dress, then quickly back at the crowd when he'd get caught. You loves teasing Clark when he got like this, you knew he had a crush on you but didn't want to call him out on it, he should tell you that himself, which is what you hoped would happen on this mission. Instead he kisses you out of panic when someone asks if he was your boyfriend and then apologizes profusely afterwards, saying how he couldn't think of any other way to make the lie convincing, which is funny coming from a man like him.

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newobsessionweekly · 1 year ago

Text

Puppy

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: While you visit Tim at the station, you are too nice to a teenager he just arrested. To your boyfriend's exasperation, you pay the bail for the kid and cook him a warm dinner.

Warnings: don't think so, pure fluff, not proofread yet

Fluff Requested: Yes Words: 2.5k

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

"So," Lucy began tentatively, stealing a glance at the sergeant. "I saw you the other day. Looking at those rings."

"Chen." Tim warned his aide.

"Are you proposing to Y/N?" she pressed, her excitement bubbling over.

"That's not your business."

But Lucy wasn't about to let it go. "Look," she said eagerly, "If you need help picking the ring, I can help. I can – I don't know, have a little talk, find out what kind of ring she wants."

"I've got this, thanks," his voice was tinged with a hint of annoyance.

"We both know you don't." Lucy leaned back, "An engagement ring is not just any jewelry she can hide in a closet if she doesn't like it."

"I think I know what she wants."

"Remember her birthday present?" she reminded him, earning an accusing glance from Tim. "Just saying. Please, at least consider it, for Y/N."

Lucy opened her mouth to say more, but Tim's eyes caught something up ahead. His expression shifted to one of relief, a welcome distraction from Lucy's insistence.

"Hold that thought."

She followed his gaze and saw a young boy attempting to break into a parked car. The kid couldn't have been more than fifteen, his hands fumbling nervously with the lock. Tim pulled the shop to a stop and got out, Lucy following closely behind.

"Dispatch, this is Sergeant Bradford. We've got a possible 459 in progress at the corner of 4th and Main."

"Hey! Step away from the car!" Tim called out, his voice authoritative.

The boy froze, his eyes wide with fear. He turned to run, but Lucy was already moving, cutting off his escape route. "It's okay," she said gently, her demeanor softening. "We're not here to hurt you."

Tim approached, his expression softening just a bit."What do you think you're doing?"

The boy stammered, "I—I wasn't going to steal it, I swear. I just... I need some money. My mom's sick, and we can't afford the meds."

The boy looked down at his feet and Lucy sighed, recognising the familiar signs of desperation. "Look, we can help you. But breaking into cars isn't the way to go."

"You need to come with us and tell us everything. We'll figure something out."

The shop was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the sound of Lucy's fingers tapping on her phone. Tim glanced over at her, his focus shifting between the road and his aide's ever-present curiosity.

"TouristPlanet says that Hawaii is number one for proposals," Lucy broke the silence, her eyes never leaving the phone.

"Chen, I don't need help. I've done it before, I know how it works," Tim replied, exasperated but with a hint of amusement.

Lucy ignored his brush-off. "Oh, but I love Y/N! I just want everything to be perfect for her. I mean, it's huge."

Tim sighed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "And you don't think I love her enough to make this special?"

"I didn't say that," Lucy replied quickly. "You've done it before, it's not a big deal for you. But it's her first proposal and she loves you."

"It is a big deal," Tim admitted, his voice softer now. "I think I love her even more than I loved Isabel back then. So it's more complicated now."

Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise, a soft smile spreading across her face. "You have a heart after all."

"Chen. Shut up." he shot her a warning sideways glance, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, sir."

As you step into the bustling station, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sugary donuts fills the air, mingling with the sound of urgent radio chatter and shuffling footsteps. You clutch the cardboard tray tighter, a smile playing on your lips as you navigate through the familiar chaos, scanning the faces for Tim's unmistakable handsomeness.

Not finding him among the desks, you make your way to Grey's office, offering a cheery wave before stepping inside.

"Morning, Sarge."

Grey glances up from his paperwork, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Y/N. Always a pleasure to have you around," he responds welcoming.

With a graceful motion, you offer him a cup of steaming coffee and gesture towards the assortment of donuts nestled in the box. The sergeant chuckles softly, accepting the offering with a nod of appreciation.

"Please do come more often," he jests, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'll keep that in mind," you reply playfully but your attention is elsewhere, your gaze still searching the room for that familiar figure. "You know where I can find Tim?"

With a knowing nod, Grey gestures for you to follow him as he leads the way towards the processing room. As you step inside, the atmosphere shifts from bustling activity to a more subdued intensity.

"Bradford. You have a visitor," Grey announces, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Tim looks up from his paperwork, his gaze meeting yours, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips. His gaze lifts, his expression softening at the sight of you standing there, a welcome interruption to the monotony of his day.

"Hey," he greets you, a flicker of surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

You set the tray of treats down on a nearby table and close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. "Hey handsome," you reply, your voice muffled against his chest. "You left early and I thought you could use some coffee."

Tim’s strong arms pulled you closer, the familiar scent of his cologne mingles with the coffee and donuts, grounding you in the moment. You feel his strong, warm body melting in your arms and the steady beat of his heart, a gentle reminders of how much you love him.

Pulling back slightly, you look up into his eyes, which are now filled with a gentle warmth that belies his grumpiness.Tim’s hand finds yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before he releases you.

"You’re a lifesaver."

Lucy wander into the room, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the treats. "Y/N, you spoil us," she teases, reaching for a donut.

Your eyes drift across the room, settling on a teenage boy obediently following an officer's commands, his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. Concern wells up inside you.

"Tim," you ask softly, nodding towards the boy, "what's with the kid? What's he doing here?"

He glances over at the kid, his expression hardening. "Kid tried to break into a car. Said he needed the money to pay for his mom's meds."

Your heart aches at the sight of the innocent boy, his face etched with fear and worry. "What's going to happen to him?" you ask, your voice soft with concern.

Tim sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "He'll probably get away with bail. First offense, and the circumstances are... mitigating."

Moved by the boy’s plight, you make a decision. “Tim, can I have your card?” you ask, reaching out your hand.

Your boyfriend eyes you warily, his brow furrowing. "Why?"

"Just trust me."

He frowns but doesn't question your request further. He fishes a card from his pocket and hands it to you. As you reach for the box of donuts, his frown deepens.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice rising with annoyance.

You stop to meet his gaze, "Trust me, please."

Tim watches you walk over to the boy and kneel down, his jaw tightening. "This is ridiculous," he mutters under his breath, his grumpiness evident as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Can I have a minute with him?" you ask Lucy, who is in the midst of processing the boy.

Lucy looks over at Tim, seeking his approval. His eyes narrow, but he gives a curt nod, though his frustration is palpable. Lucy steps aside, joining your boyfriend as they watch you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Hi, there." you say softly, your voice kind and shooting, "I'm Y/N. What's your name?"

"Charlie."

"Well, Charlie, Sergeant Bradford told me you're in some kind of trouble." you say gently, your heart breaking at his situation.

The boy looks up at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I– I just want to help mom."

"I know, sweetheart. You hungry?" you ask, offering him a comforting smile.

Charlie nods, and you hand him the box full of donuts. His eyes widen in surprise and gratitude as he takes it.

You write your name and number on Tim's card and hand it to him. "It's gonna be okay for now. But if you have any other problems, please give us a call. If you don't want to talk to Bradford, you can call me, okay?"

"Thanks. I– I will," Charlie says, clutching the card like a lifeline.

"Where's your mom?" you ask, wanting to understand more about his situation.

"In hospital. She– uh, she has cancer and treatment is expensive."

"You stay with her at the hospital?" you ask gently, your mind already made up to help him.

Charlie nods, tears brimming in his eyes. Determined to do more, you know you'll pay his bail and offer any support you can.

Tim strides over, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. His grumpiness, which had momentarily melted away, returns in full force. "Alright, that's enough," he says, his voice firm and edged with frustration. "We need to get things moving."

You stand up, giving Charlie one last reassuring smile. "Remember, call me if you need anything," you say before turning to Tim.

He looks at you, his irritation clear. "Y/N, you can't save everyone," he mutters, shaking his head. "This isn't your job."

You meet his gaze, "I know. But I can try to help one," you reply softly.

"You really shouldn't get involved like that," he says, his voice softer now, filled with concern.

"I know."

He sighs, reaching to take your hand into his. "But I love that about you. Just...promise me you'll be careful. For my sake."

You squeeze his hand, smiling warmly. "I promise."

The end of the shift greets Tim and Lucy walking towards their cars, the sky darkening with the onset of evening. The station is quieter now, the earlier hustle and bustle giving way to the calm of a winding-down day. He's itching to get home, to feel the warmth and comfort of your presence, to escape the relentless grind of the day.

"Hey, Tim," Lucy starts, glancing at him curiously. "Did you pay the bail for that Charlie boy we arrested this morning?"

Tim raises an eyebrow, surprised. "No, why?"

"Because someone did," Lucy explains, frowning. "I checked, and he doesn’t have any other family besides his mom. I can't figure out who would have done it."

His eyes narrow, and then it hits him. "I think I know who."

The drive home is a blur as he processes the day's events. When he finally steps through the front door, he’s greeted by the comforting aroma of dinner cooking and the sound of upbeat song playing in the background.

"Sweetheart, I'm home," he calls out, his voice echoing through the house.

You turn around, a bright smile on your face. "Hey, babe. Come, come. Dinner's almost ready."

Tim steps into the kitchen, and his eyes widen in pure shock as he spots Charlie sitting at the island, a plate of snacks in front of him.

"Y/N, a word," Tim says, his voice tight.

"Make yourself at home, Charlie. We'll be right back."

You give the kid a big smile while Tim forces a very strained one, then you follow him to the bedroom. He closes the door behind you with more force than necessary, his frustration evident.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Tim demands, his voice rising in anger.

"I know, I'm sorry. I should've talked to you. But I couldn't let him stay in jail. He's been sleeping in a hospital chair, Babe. God knows when it was the last time he had a proper, warm meal. There's no one to look after him."

Tim runs a hand through his hair, his anger barely contained. "I can't believe you did that. You’ve got ourselves a puppy," he mutters, his tone sharp.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"Nothing."

You place a gentle hand on his arm, your eyes pleading. "Tim, listen to me. This kid needs help. He's scared and alone. I couldn't just walk away."

You step even closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles.

"You can't just bring home a stray. This is serious, Y/N. We're not a shelter."

"Charlie is not a stray, he needs help. His mom is in the hospital with cancer, and he's been trying to fend for himself," you explain, "We have the means to help him, at least for one night."

"This isn't just about money or means, Y/N. It's about safety and boundaries. We can't take in every kid with a sob story."

"I get that, but this isn't just any kid. You saw him today, baby. He's not a criminal; he's just a boy trying to help his mom," you argue, stepping closer to him. "We can't turn our backs on him."

Tim's frustration is simmering beneath the surface. "Damn it, Y/N. This is exactly why I worry about you. You have a big heart, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You rested your head on his chest. "I know. But I can't just turn my back when someone needs help. I get involved because I care," you say softly, meeting his eyes, "And you care too, whether you want to admit it or not."

"I can't say no to you, can I?" he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection.

You smile up at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Tim looks at you, his grumpiness warring with his love for you. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," he sighs again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer, "Just one night," he says, "And then we figure out what to do next."

You nod, relief flooding through you. "I promise. Just one night."

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, his grumpiness is melting away, "You're impossible, you know that?" a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I know," you reply, smiling back at him. "But you love me anyway."

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I do," he admits, his voice tender. "Now let's go see how our guest is doing."

#tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #the rookie imagine #the rookie #the rookie one shot #the rookie x reader #tim bradford imagines #tim bradford x y/n #tim x reader #tim one shot #tim imagine #tim the rookie fluff #tim the rookie imagine #tim the rookie #puppy

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maple-the-awesome · 11 months ago

Text

The Chain Meets His Baby || 2/2

Part 1 ||

Pairing: Twilight, Warrior, Legend, Sky x Reader

Requested by @kieradumpzz081927: I hope your request are open(or if ur free for requests), so i saw ur LU oneshots about the one that is called ' He becames a dad ' or smth. So, why not that he would introduce his kid(s) to the chain? That ones going to be interesting Warning: Some mature jokes here and there. Nothing major, but gotta give the new dad a little hell, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Six minutes and twenty seconds. That's how long you were able to relax before a series of knocks ruined your peace. Predictably, the sound is enough to echo throughout your small home followed by shrilling cries from the once silent cradle mere feet from your bedside.

You could almost cry yourself, although you're able to hold in your frustrations thanks to the smoothing pat your husband gives your head before sighing heavily himself and sitting up from bed. All the two of you wanted was one second of sleep - one second to collapse in bed next to each other and rest your eyes which feel as if they haven't shut in weeks, but apparently, that's too much to ask of this universe.

After giving a quick kiss to your cheek (and smirking at your annoyed grumbling), Twilight slides off the bed and makes his way to the cradle. There, he skillfully sweeps the wiggling newborn into his arms, cooing the distressed baby loving as they make their way to the front door. Seeing as this precious child has only existed for a mere week, it can't really be too much of a surprise that your home has become a hotspot for visitors. Between the village children excitedly wanting to see their newest member and their parents stopping by to offer meals, advice, and all-around support, it seems your door is almost always open these days (not you truly mind one bit), although as it would turn out, your current company doesn't fall into the excepted categories.

"What are you guys doing here?" Twilight suddenly doesn't feel so tired anymore once setting eyes upon the familiar group. They're all here - all eight of the heroes of courage; his treasured friends. This is, what, the third time his world has somehow crossed with theirs? This is really becoming a common pattern, isn't it, and for a split moment, Twilight feels a strike of fear at the thought of this being the start of yet another long, tiresome journey. Now!? He couldn't possibly leave now! What kind of partner and father would that make him? You need him here. He promised he'd be home for you, and for -

"- There's no danger, so don't fret. We've already investigated everything before coming here," Time, who must've read Twilight's worried expression, promptly explains things while failing to fall victim to the same jaw-dropped silence that strikes every other hero in the group as they all stare in astonishment at Twilight - or more accurately, the bothered baby huffing in his arms.

Instead of mocking surprise, Time’s eye casually drops to acknowledge the little one, his lips lifting into a pleasant smile, “...And this must be the famous pup I’ve heard so much about?”

“Wait, you knew?!” Sky gasps, everyone’s shocked attention snapping to the Old Man. He pays them no mind, too focused on his main priority of being the first to hold his great-great-something grandson who Twilight eagerly passes over.

“Ah!” The Rancher’s once worried expression changes like a switch, flashing away into an all-too excited grin. As has been common lately, having new company around immediately sparkles a rambling spiel fueled by his flooding avidity (which has impressively failed to die down even with the exhaustion of early fatherhood), “I was gonna send letters to y’all - it just slipped my mind. These past few days have been a bit chaotic while getting all adjusted. Yep, this one’s mine - lil’ Lupin. He’s officially four days old, born at 10:14 in the morning at a healthy 7.6 pounds -”

“- You’re gonna have to write all that down for any of us to remember it,” Wild rolls his eyes, although it’s in good spirit as he peeks at the tiny baby with a small smile. It doesn’t take the other boys long to notice that, like Time, their Champion doesn’t seem too surprised by this situation either, looking at the newborn with only a little bit more interest than he would a cute puppy.

“I take it you knew, too, then?” Four quizzes.

“He kept hinting towards it at first until I finally gave in and asked. I didn’t know when to expect them to be here, though.”

“It’s been nine months since then,” Twilight points out teasingly, causing Wild to huff and throw his hands up in the air defensively.

“How should I know how long they take to bake! Besides, judging by the way you practically sent me a whole novel about how excited you were, I figured it was only going to be a matter of weeks, maybe a few months by that point. How in Hylia’s name did you stand to be like that for nine?”

“I barely did! It was hell having to be that patience, anyone here could tell you…but Lupin’s here now and definitely worth the wait, I’d say,” Twilight sighs dramatically, looking lovingly at his son who by now has settled peacefully in the comfort of Time’s arms, no longer squirming and fussing. To be fair, his ancestor does have quite a bit of practice juggling twins at this point. One is nothing.

“He’s a beautiful baby, that’s for sure,” Time chuckles, at last taking his eyes away from his newest family member, “You did good, cub.”

Twilight preens at his mentor’s compliment, “Isn’t he? I’ve been around other babies before, but having one of my very own…It just hits different, ya’ know? …I actually wouldn’t mind a couple more -”

“- Don’t push your luck, mister,” On cue, you appear from around the corner, tiredly rubbing your eyes yet managing a smile to greet the rest of the Chain, "You weren't the one who had to go through nine months of heartburn followed by hours of torture.”

“- Eventually. I wouldn't mind a couple more ‘eventually’,” Twilight clarifies, quick to hook his arm around your waist and pull you against himself the second you’re close enough, “Besides, you handled it like a queen.”

You roll your eyes while resting your head against his shoulder, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere different.”

“That’s not what you said nine months ago~” Twilight smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead only to earn himself a swat against the head.

Warrior originally elected to ignore the heavy knocking at his front door which threatened his peaceful morning's silence. Whatever this kingdom demands of him, they can simply add it to his tab. He's comfortable in bed where it's warm and you're snuggled in his arms, looking as beautiful as ever with a mess of bedhead and matching dark circles under your eyes. Best of all? Your son has achieved a new record of sleeping for three straight hours - THREE!

Now, Warrior is relatively used to less-than-ideal sleep schedules as a hero and captain, so having a newborn around hasn't quite hit him with the same force as it might a typical man, but that doesn't mean either of you are going to be ungrateful towards this new parenting milestone. No, you were planning on taking full advantage of it actually, wanting nothing more than to spend a lazy morning in bed until your little monster inevitably awakes...however, it seems the universe always has other plans.

The knocking only grows more frequent and loud, drawing a groan from your fiancé who finally relents. Pushing himself out of bed, he reluctantly answers the door without much effort put into hiding his annoyed expression - that is until it naturally snaps into one of mild shock and excitement at the sight of his visitors. Instead of it being someone from the Castle or military, he's pleasantly surprised to find his old traveling companions, the other heroes of courage.

"What are you all doing here?" He suddenly doesn't feel so tired anymore, in fact he’s stricken with more life and a bright smile while gazing over the group to count each familiar face. Yep, they're all here - all eight of them. It's been so long! Well, maybe not that long. It hasn't even been a full year yet since visiting Twilight's family together, but that's still plenty of time to miss old friends.

"Well, some of us have been talking lately and we thought, why not put some time aside from our busy lives to have a little get together - just us heroes, for old times’ sake!” Wild announces enthusiastically, practically inviting himself inside, not that Warrior stops him or any of the others for that matter.

“It could be a little tradition of ours. Once a year, type of thing,” Sky explains more professionally, although he isn’t any less excited than the Champion.

"A nice boy's trip to save you from the misses," Legend rephrases, elbowing the Captain’s side with a wink while passing by.

Warrior will admit: it is an intriguing proposal - getting away from the stresses of a hero to spend quality time with brothers who understand your woes. If only the Chain had visited a few months earlier, he’d be willing to entertain such a trip, but alas, he must give them a sympathetic smile instead, “As much fun as that sounds, I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you. At least not this time around.”

Immediately, the group’s uplifted smiles drop into disappointed frowns emphasized by a chorus of dejected groans.

"You knights and all your fancy work kissing the royal family’s ass," Legend huffs, and Warrior was just about to bite back on that comment with a jab of his own, however their conversation is suddenly interrupted.

A piercing cry catches the entire Chain off guard, many of the boys looking around wildly for the possible threat while others - namely Time and Twilight - are jolted by that familiar protective instinct they know all too well of from their own home lives.

“Actually, there’s another reason,” Warrior doesn’t hide his amusement towards everyone’s reactions nor does he hide his tired sigh once realizing his free trial of peace-and-quiet has ended.

He doesn’t even make it to the doorway before you appear, already rocking the baby gently in your arms. It takes some fussing from both of you to smooth his tears, calming him down just long enough for Warrior to turn back to his friends while proudly gesturing to the newborn in your arms, “Well, allow us to introduce our son, Einar.”

From there, it takes mere seconds for the Chain to snap out of it and instantly crowd you both, each fighting to get a good look at this ‘son’ in question.

“Since when did you guys have a kid?!” Hyrule awes.

“He’s so little…He can’t be that old, right?” Sky gasps.

“Only a few weeks, I reckon,” Time observes calmly from the back, tall enough to simply gaze over the sea of shoulders and heads.

“Hey, move out of the way! I can’t see! I wanna see, too!” Wind whines, shrugging to push his way through the barrier of bodies.

Twilight, steps back from the chaos to throw a playful smirk Warrior’s way, “Here I thought you were waiting for kids.”

“Us too,” You roll your eyes.

“Life happens,” Your partner merely shrugs, not even attempting to act ashamed of himself as he accepts responsibility of holding Einar while you excuse yourself to prepare a bottle once he starts whimpering again, “But we wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

“Geeze, you’re all getting old on us,” Legend mocks, eyeing Warrior, Time, and Twilight, “Not even three years ago, the Old Man was the only one of us in a committed relationship, now all three of you are suddenly tied down with children!”

“Don’t go sounding too jealous, Vet. I’m sure you’ll have your turn someday,” Warrior smirks, resulting in the other hero sticking out his tongue in disgust.

“As if. Me? A dad? You sure the world should be subjected to that?”

“Right. You might actually be doing everyone a favor by not reproducing.”

“Oh fuck off -”

“- Shh! Not in front of the baby!”

“I, for one, wouldn’t mind being a dad one day. It seems like a lot of fun,” Sky, coos, letting little Einar play with his finger, “If you ever need a babysitter, just let me know.”

"Careful. We might end up taking you up on that offer with how little we've been sleeping lately."

"Get accustomed to it, my friend, because it doesn't go away anytime soon," Time advises with a pat to the back, failing to hide the mirth filtering his voice as the new father sighs exasperatedly.

Legend isn’t usually the type to delight himself with hosting guests, nor is he much of an initiator when it comes to any sort of social interaction, so suffice to say, the Chain was rather thrown to have received unprompted invites to visit his world and home. Why the sudden open door? He gave no explanation, leaving all of the boys guessing, although Time has a few notable theories swirling in mind.

It all goes back to months ago when Legend had unexpectedly appeared at Lon Lon Ranch, claiming to have simply ‘been in the area’, yet Time knew better than to believe that. An experienced man like himself immediately took notice of his friend’s frazzled and irritable mood, such a state of dishevelment hinting towards one thing: problems at home - problems likely relating to you, to be exact, seeing as your boyfriend was swift to avoid any mention of your name when prompted.

Realizing that prying would be ineffective against someone so notorious for his emotional barriers, Time had allowed Legend to stay with him and his family without question. He, of course, kept a close eye on the young man, trying to deduce the situation the best he could from all those frustrated grumbles while working chores and pitiful sighs as the two sat together on the back porch after dinner.

It was then that Legend had taken the moment to ask Time a rather odd question that had admittedly hung in the Old Man’s head for days afterwards along with a curious conclusion as to the true reason behind his sudden visit, however nothing more was said that night beyond some wisely woven words soaked in hidden meaning.

By morning, the veteran hero was visibly relaxed when quietly expressing his plans to return home to you. Clearly, whatever troubles that once plagued his mind had been resolved following a day of reflection and a goodnight’s sleep, so Time felt confident sending Legend back on his way with a wish of luck and an offer to return whenever needed.

Perhaps that incident and this friendly invite are unrelated, after all, it’s been months between the two, although Time can’t help but wonder, the memory of Legend’s question being of particular interest as the Chain approaches their destination.

Some of the boys share their concerns along the way, a bit unsettled by the thought of Legend wanting to see them. Warrior even suggests the possibility of their friend having gone through a bad break-up, insisting there’s logic behind his guess since losing you would be the Vet’s lowest point, the extreme heartache being enough for him to abandon all stubbornness and reach out to the Chain for moral support. Arguments deemed his theory outlandish, however when Legend opens his front door to greet them, the boys begin to worry Warrior might indeed be a good prophet…

“It took you all long enough,” He huffs, his voice worn and scratchy which really sends home his obvious lack of sleep when paired with his unkempt appearance; heavy bags under his eyes and shaggy hair that stands up on all ends, “Come in, come in…”

‘Oh Hylia!’ The Chain thinks, sorrow for their friend already sinking into their bones as they illy prepare themselves for a story of true despair. Yes, Legend can be difficult and stubborn at times, and maybe you had your reasons, but surely he couldn’t have messed up bad enough to warrant you leaving him! Hasn’t the poor guy already been through enough?

“...Hey man, you doing alright?” Warrior was just about to rip the bandage off, his hand placed supportively upon his friend’s shoulder which earned him a sleepy look that falls sort of its intended glare, however before he can get any reply -

“- BABY!” Wind’s gasp pierces ears and makes several of the others leap in their skin. Indeed, if following the youngest hero’s excited point, it'll lead to where you stand in the doorway with an amused (that be it tired) chuckle…So, you didn’t leave after all? You’re still here, looking as rough as your partner which is probably excusable since in your arms is, in fact, a new baby.

“Hello everyone. I’m glad you could all make it.”

“...Oh thank Hylia you didn’t leave him!”

“What -?” Legend raises an eyebrow at Warrior’s dramatic sigh, yet he doesn’t get much of a chance to be offended. No one would notice anyway, their attention having swiftly abandoned their dear old friend in exchange for you and the baby you introduce.

“His name is Liron,” You note, earning a chorus of awes as the sweet little bundle scrunches his tiny face in displeasure towards the disruption to his peaceful sleep; already, he looks so much like his dad.

“So this is why you invited us over, huh?” Hyrule glances back over the sea of shoulders to send Legend an amused smile, “We thought something bad might’ve happened!”

“We wanted it to be a surprise…” The Vet sighs, unable to stay mad at the group’s energy, after all they have every right to be amazed. His son is pretty damn beautiful.

“Well, I’ll be darn. You gotta kid now,” Twilight smirks, even going as far as to elbow Legend’s side which, as always, packs more strength than probably intended, “And after all that hell you gave us!”

“Yeah, yeah, karma's a bitch. Laugh it up - HEY! Wash your hands first!” Legend’s focus is immediately diverted from rubbing his sore ribs to pointing an accusing finger at Wild who’s stopped mid-reach from taking the baby you pass towards him.

"I did!" The Champion gasps in offense.

“Not here you didn’t. Do it again! Sinks in the kitchen!”

Wild grumbles, forced to forfeit his turn in holding the baby. A glare is all it takes for Hyrule to follow him shamefully as well, allowing Time to be the first to actually hold the little one since his hands successfully pass cleanliness approval. Nevertheless, despite his spotless palms and seasoned experience as a father himself, the older hero must put up with Legend's paranoid hovering which isn't too unlike a hawk's, ready to snatch back his baby at a second's notice if deeming the situation to be too ‘unsafe’. Fortunately, Time's nice enough not to mention this behavior beyond a silent smirk.

“...What went through your head when you realized you were going to be a dad?”

Now Legend’s question - as random as it had seemed those many months ago - makes complete sense. The timid whisper that spoke it, the nervous avoidance of any eye contact, and that deep, thoughtful frown while listening to Time’s honest answer - all signs that pointed towards a worried father-to-be desperate for direction as he fought to keep his own insecurities and fears at bay.

At least Time can finally rest easy knowing their past conversation did some good for his friend. The young man may be fidgeting while impatiently watching his new child be passed around the group for each to see, your gently hand upon his shoulder only doing so much to relax his anxieties. You’re also both beyond tired, fitting to Time’s warning that parenthood is by far the most difficult journey one can ever take, yet there’s a switch of softness that overtakes Legend’s expression the second your son begins to mumble his disapproval, apparently fed up with all this attention that he’s receiving.

In an instant, Legend’s there, stealing back the small infant and clumsily doing his best to smooth such sharp cries. Yes, it’s difficult and nerve wracking to become a parent, especially for the first time, but to see all of your efforts throughout the years take form into such a beautiful and amazing being of pure innocence…that’s the most rewarding adventure yet, something Legend’s clearly already beginning to realize himself.

Sky's been practically bursting at the seams all day - well, all week, to be more accurate - but today is especially special since you’re both expecting a visit from some of his closest friends, the other heroes of courage who haven’t been by Skyloft in far too long.

Seeing as their reunion has been so long overdue, it should be no surprise that your dear husband has been bubbling with eager anticipation all morning (long before the sun had even risen thanks to your shared lack of a proper sleep schedule). While he does genuinely miss his old traveling companions, a majority of his restlessness comes from wanting to share some exciting news about a recent ‘development’ in your lives, one he’s had to hold himself back from spoiling in their routine letters (which are shared far more often than in-person visits).

Before you can even process the knock at your front door, Sky is already darting across the room to answer it, matching the delighted smile worn by all the other boys. He eagerly ushers them inside, his impatience finally spilling over by this point, something he can’t help. As already mentioned, he’s been waiting for this moment for quite a while - and has dreamed about for far longer than a simple ‘while’.

You can only chuckle at how quickly you’re swarmed by curious eyes, the other heroes not hesitating to stand and kneel around your chair just to catch a glimpse of the tiny bundle you cradle. To say it took them off guard would be the understatement of a century. It completely knocked them off their feet to realize what you're holding and what Sky’s excitement has been all about!

It’s a baby - a tiny newborn with puffy cheeks and itty-bitty hands balled into fists! She doesn’t even look real, or perhaps this whole situation itself just doesn’t feel real. In the Chain’s defense, it’s been years since Sky and you announced your intentions of starting a family of your own. Unfortunately, your struggles in achieving this goal became no secret, and your friends had begun to slowly lose hope with you. They truly worried the day might never come which explains their complete awe now.

“Her name’s Azure,” You tell them, wiping away the tears that bubble in the corners of your eyes. Curse these hormones! Your daughter is already a few days old yet you still cry each time you see another’s reaction to her. Can you be blamed? It only solidifies the reality that this is, in fact, your baby. Sky and you are officially parents!

“Congratulations, man!” Warrior throws an arm over your husband’s shoulder and pulls him close into a side hug, “You’ve earned it!”

Sky shares his laughter with a shake of his head, his eyes immediately drifting to yours, “My wife deserves most of the credit. She’s the one who endured all those long and tiresome months to get little Azure here.”

“And you took amazing care of us both throughout every second,” You point out just as quickly with a gentle smile, “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner to go through this with.”

“Now we’ll have to start planning some playdates with all our kids. Let ‘em tire each other out,” Twilight points out, giving Sky’s other side a nudge with his elbow.

“Maybe being around Azure will get Hope to stop asking for a sibling for a while,” Hyrule sighs exhaustively.

“Yeah, no, that has the exact opposite effect. Trust me,” Legend huffs with crossed arms.

Wind’s hand pops out from somewhere in the back of the crowd, only seen as he eagerly tries to jump up and down to gain attention, “Oh-Oh, Tetra and I can babysit if you ever need it!”

“I didn’t think she even liked kids?”

“She ‘likes’ kids, she just doesn’t like being ‘around’ them,” Wind rolls his eyes at Legend’s comment as if the reason isn’t obvious, “But she said she’s been wanting to get better with them to practice the whole ‘being a nice princess’ thing -”

“- All of that can come later,” Time swiftly interrupts the wandering conversation, “I’m sure as new parents, these two would appreciate rest above all else for now. There’ll be plenty of time for playdates later down the line.”

“We’ll definitely set some up once Azure is old enough,” Sky chuckles in agreement before kneeling by your side to help fix the blanket around your sleeping daughter. Although there’s quite a bit of time until then, the idea of finally being able to participate in such arrangements is exciting to you both. No more standing on the sidelines feeling out of place with your hearts’ yearning. You’ll finally be able to share the joy all of your friends feel.

“You both look like happy parents. Congratulations,” You preen at Time’s compliment, looking to each other through tears in your eyes which then drop to Azure who snuggles closer to you, blissfully unaware of the effect she already has on your hearts as she merely enjoys the comfort of your loving embrace. Your most special treasure, indeed…

#lu twilight x reader #lu warrior x reader #lu legend x reader #lu sky x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #link x reader #x reader #reader insert #legend of zelda x reader

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dalliancekay · 1 year ago

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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to (or at least should) suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. As the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop (and his fall)...

.After the fire, Crowley drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Or even, for the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when Aziraphale doesn't react the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. For Heaven. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And so for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3 (to I assume) even out the scores. Or... to deserve Crowley. Some people also want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he has (so thoughtlessly) done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book, my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I...did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating as well, and by furiously (but quietly) trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel I get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck (Crowley's 'What's the point of it all' at the beginning of S2). I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, but I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying from then on.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spend the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. What happened to him. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink and cry, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen now.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? And why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought will happen if he survives this), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale? About his sadness?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. First of all, he was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they both BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress like Crowley does. He will learn to be more open, I'm sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, not at all. But asking how I am can only end up in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid, unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do). I think...this would probably work not just for someone who is grieving but also for someone who you know is dealing with depression for example or a serious illness etc. Edit 2. It's now almost (in 15 days) a year since my brother died. The random attacks of pain and grief have lessened and I have started to do more of the things I enjoyed before... and I am able to answer how are you questions without feeling like they are trying to mock me (the questions, not the people). So I suppose things do get ... lighter? More diffused? I'm not sure. Because it's still exactly as unfair that my brother has not lived this past year as it will be however many years I will be here without him I expect.

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #aziraphale defense squad #suffering in silence #grief #tw grief #dealing with grief #loss #tw death #kaypost

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

Lost and Found

prompt: ( requested ) you're just friends, but on your first night at Saltburn, you get lost in the vast halls and accidentally walk in on lover boy after a bath. he wants you to stay.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 3.6k+

note: this SHOULD'VE gotten slutty, but it DIDN'T because i'm back in the hospital and the LAST thing i need is a nurse walking in on me writing fucking smut - oh, my God, can you imagine? new fear unlocked!

warnings: RIP Queen Lizzie, cursing, sexual tension, emotions are hard, Lord's name in vain, depiction of mental illness (anxiety), author throws in a little personal detail cause writing is therapy.

"Honestly, who lives in a place like this? The bloody Queen, that's who. Her and all her fucking rooms! Jesus!" You grumbled, dipping down another winding hallway. "All right, this looks familiar, that's... Encouraging, right?" You frowned, glass of water in hand after venturing to the kitchen to fetch it - but now, you couldn't navigate your way back to your room. "Of course," you growled quietly, opening a door and finding a linen closet.

How silly, in a place like this! A fucking linen closet!

You huffed and shut the door, feeling incredibly awkward and terribly misplaced. You mind screamed that didn't belong here, you never should've set foot in a place like this! How fucking foolish you felt, like a silly little girl who was just excited her crush spoke to her, let alone invited you home with him for the summer holiday.

But it was Felix fucking Catton - certified enigma. He was all man with a boyish charm who smiled at you on move-in day at Oxford and sealed your fate. He was ridiculously nice, so very sweet, borderline annoying with his giving nature and kindness. He was loyal to a fault, intuitive, observant, admirably carefree, and so very happy to give his love to anyone who needed it. For a few weeks, you felt almost offended by his attention, wondering what kind of broken soul he thought you were; knowing he had an affinity for "damaged" or "broken" things.

At least, that's what his cousin, Oxford's registered and certified catty bitch, Farleigh Start, teased you about relentlessly when he noted the way Felix hung around you. Felix invited you out with friends, offered to study together, walked you to and from classes - even if his were in the literal opposite direction. You had no honest idea how the two were related, given Farleigh's constant attitude and Felix's overwhelming kindness, but that wasn't for you to understand. You just relished the attention Felix bestowed in-between your skepticism.

And here you are, your first night in his home, Saltburn, completely lost and totally turned-around! You didn't need water all that bad, did you? Granted, you had a several tablets to take that evening to maintain your health, but you could've used the fucking sink in the adjoining bathroom! You grew frustrated the more doors you opened, finding empty rooms or closets or another fucking library or studies or whatever! As if this home wasn't big enough, there were multiple levels and all you knew was that you and Felix were both located on the same floor with his parents above you and his sister and Farleigh beneath.

So, that helped.

But you still felt so fucking silly.

Seriously, who got LOST in someone else's home!? Fools, that's who!

Okay, okay, okay, you didn't need to be so hard on yourself, but you grew nervous and fearful for a reason you didn't understand. Your anxiety was planted in your stomach, festering, growing, taking over you to the point that you had tears in your eyes when you found yet ANOTHER fucking study!

"Oh, even the bloody fucking Queen doesn't have this many useless rooms, and she's a much bigger family, Jesus fucking Christ," you sneered to yourself - ready to give up and just sleep in one of the empty rooms. But you didn't want Duncan finding you in the morning, asking questions, forcing you to admit you were lost - you felt humiliated enough as it was! And that was without anyone witnessing this absolute mess you had made!

Well, not technically a mess - but you felt like a mess the more you crept around. And now, you felt fucking creepy - like some stalker, sneaking around the halls, trying to spy on this very nice family. You knew you weren't, but the feeling was still there - fucking anxiety would honestly be the death of you.

However, you came upon a familiar (enough) door that had a gentle light emitting from under it. With a sigh of relief, you suddenly remembered leaving a light on for yourself to return to; reaching for the doorknob, twisting it, and darting into the room while swiftly swinging the door close - but halting it to shut quietly as to not disturb anyone in the empty halls.

Yeah, anxiety was a bitch.

"Ohh-ho, evenin', love," a voice greeted, making you gasp, jump, and twist around. "Miss me that much? Heard the drain on the tub, didn't yah, had to come sneak a peek?"

Felix fucking Catton stood at the end of a messy bed in all his glory, running a towel through his wet curls. Nothing obscuring your sight, nothing hiding his manhood, nothing - literally nothing on his body except a shit-eating grin.

"Jesus, Fi! Fuck, I-I-I'm so - um," you gulped, trying not to ogle him, but failing (miserably) when beads of water rolled between the contours of his impossibly impressively sculpted muscles. "I just - you know, this place is so bloody big - um, I'm sorry - I just... Yeah..."

He smirked, nodding sarcastically, "Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble into my room? Pretty good timing, too, wasn't it?"

You squeaked, "I didn't mean to! I swear - Felix, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to, um, yeah, you know - uh..."

"Like what you see, sweetheart? Why don't you come in closer, get a better look?"

You adverted your eyes out of respect and fumbled messily for the door handle. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Bloody house is just too bloody big, I got all turned around - just needed some water and I just - fuck, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey," Felix chuckled, wrapping his towel loosely around his hips so his V-line was still on raunchy display, "I'm only teasin', love. I know this place can get confusin' t'newcomers. I actually meant to grab you some water, know you gotta take your tablets."

You swallowed your embarrassment, sighing, "I'll just - yeah - no - I'll, um, just go - I'm so sorry, again."

"You know where you're goin' all of a sudden?"

You faced the door, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, shaking your head gently, "Well, no, but I'll figure it out - I left a, um, I left a light on, you know, to help - I don't know - uh, guide me?"

"You've not stuttered this much since we first met," he laughed, tugging a pair of boxers on for your sanity (and to your dismay). "I'm dressed, doll, you can look at me now. C'mon, bit weird talkin' to your back."

"We're not talking, Felix, I'm going to bed."

"Then why haven't you left yet?"

You blinked at the intricately carved door, realizing your hand was still on the knob, but it hadn't turned. "I didn't want to be so rude as to just walk out, mid-sentence!"

"Hey, hey, you're all right, darlin', I'm only teasin'," he grinned, hearing his bare feet pad over the ground before his warm hand wrapped around your elbow. "C'mon, love, hang with me a bit - 's not that late, is it?"

"Oh, so, Duncan can walk in? Make his assumptions?" You whispered, slowly facing him and leaning back on the door with a pout. His big, brown, doe-eyes stared directly into yours, making you feel under his spotlight - something akin to a privilege, since Felix Catton didn't bestow his attention on everyone. "I just needed water, I didn't mean t'get, you know, lost like this. Seriously, this place looks totally different at night."

"Surprised you even got this far, huh?"

"I looked in any room with an open door," you admitted with a small wince. "I felt so creepy, but I was all turned around - and you know, you shouldn't leave other lights on in rooms not being used. Terrible waste of energy."

"Awh, my sweet, environmentally-conscious girl," he cooed, hand raising to gently pinch your jaw. There was a serene moment, the pair of you just staring at one another, becoming acutely aware that he was still practically naked. "C'mon, don't leave yet, we can play cards if you like?"

"I've medicine t'take - "

"Right, right, right," he nodded, letting his hand drift to hold your neck in a gentle grasp. "Tell you what, you stay here, I'll grab your meds, and bring them back? You keep 'em in that li'l pink bag, yeah?"

"I don't know how to feel that you know which is my med bag," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Just shows I pay attention, don't it?"

"Maybe shows we spend too much time together?"

He kissed his teeth, grinning at you, "There's no such thing - in fact! I reckon we could double our time together and it still wouldn't feel like enough."

"Well, how's that help me later? I still don't know where my room is - oh, don't laugh!" You groaned, Felix snickering louder. "Fi, c'mon, it's not funny - this place is huge! Like, illegally huge!"

He cooed, "Oh, doll, 'M not laughing at you, promise. Just... You're not the first person t'get lost here, yeah?"

You scoffed with severe discomfort, "I really don't want t'hear 'bout all the other girls you've brought home - "

"Hey, now," he cut you off swiftly, "don't do that." He shrugged meekly, "There's been no others, just friends. Mine, Farleigh's, Venetia's... They've all gotten lost once or twice... Or that time we had to actually draw Reggie a map, poor lad got lost around every bend."

You rolled your eyes, "Truly expect me to believe that, do you?" Then you let your eyes widen a fraction, teasing, "Oh, wow, you really believe it! You really believe you haven't brought home other girls who you're interested in or who are into you?"

He crowded you into the door, shifting the room's energy to something sultry, making you hold your breath as his hand slid into your hair. "You know you're the only one, right?"

"You know that's absolute bullshite, right? Like, what a fucking line!"

He tisked, "C'mon, doll."

"Be honest, Felix."

His head cocked, "Want the truth?"

"That'd be a nice change of pace."

He scoffed lightly, "I don't give a single fuck if any of our previous guests cared for me - only you. Hear me?" He took the last step so he was stood with his feet slotted between yours. "I didn't bring them here for any other reason than friendly entertainment. You've seen the place, as big as it is, can get a bit lonely without anyone to hang with. But I asked you here... For different reasons..." He whispered, eyes jutting down to your lips as he kept a firm hold on you.

"And what reasons are those, Fi?"

He smirked, "Obviously... To kick your arse at cards."

You were flooded with pure disappointment. Raw, unfiltered disappointment that deflated your shoulders. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen," you covered, nudging him a single step away from you. "Wanna be a gentleman and direct me to my room now?"

"Nope," he grinned, snatching your hand and yanking you away from the door. "You're gonna sit your pretty self right here," he nudged you to the edge of his bed, turning for his desk, then turning back to you to slap a deck of cards to your hand, "you're gonna shuffle these, and mentally prepare to get your arse handed to you at your own game."

You chuckled slightly, "Thought you hated 51 Rummy?"

"Only when sober," he smirked, leaning down to peck your forehead sweetly. "Sit tight, doll, I'll be a moment, yeah?"

You sighed and watched him exit the room, reaching to set your glass of water down and observe the room. In a moment of weakness, you pet over his sheets as if tempted to snuggle into them - and you were! You were cold from the lack of robe you meant to shrug on, and wondering the halls of Saltburn took much longer than you anticipated - now wanting to dive into the warmth you knew was left, the same warmth that Felix left on everything.

You jumped when the door opened again, Felix slipping inside with your little pink bag. His brows pinched, "All right, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah - "

"Your feet are nearly blue," he shook his head, handing you your bag before turning for his wardrobe. "Socks or sweats?"

"Huh?"

He turned, holding up a pair of sweatpants and socks, repeating, "Socks or sweats? Figured you're a bit cold in that." The left side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, eyeing you in your sleep shorts and loose teeshirt that had the collar ripped out, showing a hint of cleavage.

"Oh, uh, socks, please."

He tossed you the socks, dropped the sweats, and joined you on the bed as you pulled the oversized garment onto your feet. "C'mere, get close, get comfortable," he chuckled, pushing his blankets down to sit in the sheets, waiting until you turned in the bed to yank the blankets up over both your legs. "Didn't shuffle? My naughty girl," he joked, reaching for the deck of cards and opening it. He offered a much softer smile, eyes darting to your medicine bag, and then focusing on the cards - as if to give you privacy to take your meds.

You did so quickly, insecure about the rattling bottles and the amount of tablets in your cupped hand, but never once had Felix made you feel bad about your needs. After swallowing them, you cleared your throat and turned to face Felix as he divided the cards for the game, nodding to his side table, "Paper's over there, doll, for the score."

"Sure you want me to keep score?" You asked softly, reaching for the pad of paper and spare pen. "Last time we played, you lost so very miserably, I was embarrassed for you. We can save your pride a li'l, not keep score."

"It's only polite to let the pretty lady win."

"Oh, tryin' to butter me up, are you?"

"Is it working?"

"I'll let you know."

Felix chuckled, leaning back to the headboard. Then, he asked softly, "You feelin' all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, all good."

"Sure?"

"Why?"

"Hands are shakin' a bit."

You eyed him for a moment, changing the subject by asking, "How're you not freezing? Seriously, 's like the floors are air conditioned."

"Nah, just not cold."

"Your nipples say otherwise."

"Lookin' at my nipples, are you?" He grinned. "Now you're a very naughty girl, knew you didn't stumble into my room on accident!"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" You pushed his shoulder, but he leaned closer. "Felix - "

"You could just stay here," he offered softly.

"You got me for a game - "

"No, I mean, uh..." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head and readjusting so he was supported on one elbow, facing you. "Nah, nevermind, all right, so, back to the game - "

"No, wait, say what you're thinking," you encouraged softly. "Know I hate you doin' that."

"Yeah, you get all anxious," he nodded. "I don't want t'be too forward, all right? But... You know, we sleep together at Oxford. I-In the dorms, you know?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Just thought, maybe you'd wanna stay here? With me? If you want, won't make yah, sweetheart, just thought... You know, in a house this big, you wouldn't get so lost stayin' here... Maybe?"

"Oh, aren't you my hero?"

"I know, I know, I'm just tryna look out for you, my li'l lost love. And, you know, prevent you from finding our secret dungeon," he gasped comically.

"That's not even a joke 'cause I'd believe it in a place like this. Is it a dungeon for torture or sex?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Maybe I'd like to see it. Hm," you considered, "maybe I should stay here, you know - so you can show me around and go get me water when I need it. Save my toes from freezing off, wonderin' 'round here."

He grinned, "Yeah?"

"If it's not too scandalous?"

"'S not like anyone would care... Except me, you know? I'd... I'd like you to stay here. Like havin' you close, sweetheart."

"Well, maybe you could put some clothes on? You're terribly fucking distracting! I'm here to win a card game, and I'll be damned if you win 'cause your abs are... You know, staring right at me, you cheater," you grinned, turning to face him fully with your legs crossed, the space in the sheets open for your cards.

"I think you like me naked," he grinned. "I mean, you stared long enough."

"I was just caught off guard!"

"Oh, I'm sure," his grin turned wicked. "You're still staring, doll."

"Well, it's not as if you're quick to cover yourself!"

"You're not too quick t'look away, either!"

"I was - "

"Caught off guard, yeah, you've said," he chuckled, staring at you with those moony brown eyes that made you feel as if you were the only girl he's ever seen. "Maybe I liked you lookin'."

"Is that so?"

He nodded slightly, "Yeah, not such a bad thing. You're kinda the only one I want lookin' at me like that, anyway."

"You absolute cheesehead!" Your laughter was quiet, trying not to tip Duncan off to your antics.

"You know, they're not just for lookin'," he perked his pierced brow at you. "Feel free to touch whenever you want, too."

"Hm, always knew you were a slut."

He gasped dramatically. "Is that anyway to talk to your host? Especially after giving you refuge from the big, scary, confusing halls?" Your eyes rolled and reached out to pushed his forehead, making him rock back into the pillows and headboard - but he was quick to snatch your wrist as he fell. You were yanked across the slim space, pulled so you were directly resting onto his chest; forearms bracing against his pectorals. He grinned, caressing the back of your head, teasing, "'Ello, love."

"You're a fucking fiend."

"And you're so fucking beautiful."

"I'm already stayin' here, Fi, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

He hummed, "You know... If you were mine, you'd get this treatment all the time. I can't stop - you're just so easy to compliment."

Feeling bold, perhaps from being so close and him being nearly naked, you whispered, "Then maybe you should stop shuffling your feet, grow a pair, and ask me already."

He paused, the moment turning soft as you relax against his body; stretched out the length of him, but still remaining propped on his chest to look down at his sweet face.

"Was a bit afraid to, actually, love."

"Why?"

"Haven't felt like this with anyone," he admitted, "'s just so fuckin' easy with you. Organic, authentic, safe... I was afraid to ruin that, destroy the rapport and friendship we've established. I care about you so much, I just wanted you in my life - no matter what variation that was. Being just my friend, being my girl, just want you with me. Didn't want to jeopardize anything."

"Hm," you considered, nodding slowly, "I get that. Think I felt something similar..."

"So, what do we do?"

"I think we be adults about this," you offered. "If you just want to be friends, we'll stay friends, Fi, but we don't blur lines like we have been. And if you want to give this - us - a try, I think we could. 'Cause you're you, and I'm me, and if things don't work out, we can just go back. Right? Adults do that sorta thing, don't they?"

"Not entirely sure, don't feel like an adult most days," he breathed, petting his fingertips down your cheek. "But I know I want this, with you. I swear, since you came into my life, I've felt - " He paused, shaking his head with a growing smile, "Free? Elated? Light as air?"

"Mhm, I know the feeling," you repeated.

"We doin' this?"

"That's up to you."

"I think it's up to us, actually - "

"I mean, you've gotta ask, Fi, not just assume."

"If you reject me in my own house, in my own bed, doll, I'm gonna be fucking crushed!"

"Oh, my God, just ask me! You fucking knobhead!" You laughed, leaning your head on his chest. His other arm moved behind his head to keep it propped up, looking at you with so much adoration, it knotted your stomach. The hand that had been in your hair drifted down to keep a secure hold on your waist; fingers scratching in soothing motions.

"Wanna be my girl?"

"Hmm, I think you could phrase it better."

He grinned brightly, "Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, that's a little too formal. Maybe try - "

"Oh, c'mere, you," he growled, swiftly using both arms to seize under your arms and literally drag you up his body. "C'mon, baby," he whispered, lips ghosting yours, "be my baby."

"Fuck, no, that's way too cheesy!"

"I thought you liked me cheesy?" He gaped, your hand petting his cheek now; shoulders straining to keep you upright, over him.

"Correction, I love you cheesy," you whispered, lowering your head to press a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed in relief, but you pulled back to promise, "I'd love to be your girl, Fi. Only took you the whole bloody school year, didn't it?"

"Hey, good things to those who wait, right?"

"Don't quote Professor Mercy at me when we're in bed with barely anything on, Jesus fucking Christ," you grumbled, unable to restrain your grin when he pulled you in for another kiss - but this time, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

Maybe getting lost in Saltburn was more beneficial than you originally thought, and maybe Professor Mercy and ages of philosophy was right because this felt like the absolute best thing, and you'd wait a hundred lifetimes if it meant having Felix in your arms - like he was now, kissing you like it was his lifeline.

How extraordinarily warm, you felt, to be lost in this world, in this extraordinary home, and found, by Felix fucking Catton.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton imagine #felix catton fanfic #felix catton fanfiction #felix catton fluff #felix catton saltburn #saltburn felix catton #saltburn felix #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn imagine #fix it felix #felix catton request

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russetfoxfur · 1 month ago

Text

okay so i went a bit insane about the examination of agency in the nightmare's routes, and then this evolved into a deeper examination of the rest of nightmare's whole deal. i am not an analyst so please take everything i say with a grain of salt, but. you know. i find her whole character to be very interesting. rambles under the cut.

warning it is 5k words of me rambling so like. be aware of that

okay, so every route the princess begins by being chained to a wall. this is the first thing she knows. she appears to be the ideal of a damsel in distress - she can't move, can't fight on her own at first, can be easily stabbed if your perception of her stays as a damsel in distress. she has no agency in this. she is forced to wait in the cabin until you, an unknown monster-looking thing comes along explicitly to kill her. and if you're quick and doubtless, she ends her life just as it began - born in a chain in a cabin, died in a chain in a cabin. and that's how you get the spectre.

now, the nightmare you can get on either harsh or soft princess. she's unique in this - as far as i remember, the only other princess like this is the stranger, where you don't meet her at all. (please correct me if i'm wrong though, i'm new to this fandom). and - as pointed out in another analysis, though i can't find it now - she's like this because she speaks to the foundational fear that all princesses have, which is going unperceived. she adapts based on what you are, and while she'll treat you differently if you try to kill her or save her at first, she will always revert to the nightmare when you meet her and then refuse to engage with her at all.

by refusing to perceive her you take away her agency. when you fight her she at least has the chance to fight back. if you manage to stab her in the heart she can at least provoke you into wondering if she's actually dead. but she has so little agency here, fighting for scraps to keep herself alive in the face of a construct that desperately wants her dead, and you leaving her alone says that you don't even see her as someone who's a threat. while slaying her means seeing her as an apocalypse in the making, and freeing her means seeing her as a pitiful thing locked up in a harsh cabin, leaving her alone means seeing her as absolutely nothing at all.

so she fights back. she slips her chains to try and escape from the cabin on her own terms. i genuinely don't think the shutting-down-the-organs thing is a lie on her part - she doesn't really lie, not unless you think she can, and she doesn't want to kill you at all, as evidenced in her chapter II. she knew you were the key to her escape, and then (in her eyes) you have the spite and sheer audacity to kill yourself just when her freedom is in view, just before she can leave for good. you kill yourself just to make sure she can't have the option of leaving at all.

so, to recap: she's locked up, you abandon her, she tries to escape, you die, she dies.

when we come back to her, the cabin bends to her will. her chains are nowhere in sight - whether they existed in the first place is a mystery. what i find interesting is the sort of prelude to her appearance - when you descend into the basement, you're given a choice between staying, running for the stairs, turning left, or turning right.

no matter which way you go, she always finds you.

she gives you the false choice this time. while before you'd spoken to her, tempted her with freedom and autonomy and agency, you'd snatched it away and left her with the worst fate she can imagine. now she's giving it to you - she tempts you with freedom and agency, and then she snatches it away by showing up no matter where you turn. no one ever talks about it but it's just. she'd said so many things to try and coerce/persuade you into helping her leave, and no matter what she'd said you'd left her anyway. you try and go any way to avoid meeting her and facing the princess again, but no matter which way you go she'll always find you.

anyway.

you pass out a few times as paranoid begins his chant, she reacts with mild curiosity and annoyance, and then you're free to question her. someone else pointed out that her mask never changes - it's frozen in this teasing smile, almost like she's smiling over the pain. (which she definitely is, considering what happens in the leadup to MoC.) she repeatedly reinstates her desire to leave and now gleefully talks about the world ending. what has it ever done for her, anyway? she also teases lq with death, just like he teased her with freedom. an eye for an eye.

a few highlights of her dialogue: when told that she's a lunatic, she responds, "I am what I am. And right now, what I am is in control." she also then teases him with death again. how the tables have turned. if you've got the knife, you can tell her you might just kill her instead, to which she warns the player and then says, "This place is mine. And I'm not giving you the stairs unless I'm leaving with you." she then demonstrates you by trapping you in the cabin if you decide to slay her right then and there. everything else is pretty standard - talking about her plans when she's free, talking about what happened after she died. these are interesting in their own right, but not for this analysis.

then, once you've exhausted all dialogue options, you have a few more options, three of which lead to chapter IIIs which have interesting takes on agency as well. you can remain with her, run, leave with her, or (if you have the knife) stab her.

both running and remaining - seemingly opposing actions - lead to the same outcome: the moment of clarity. this happens when you've finally exhausted all other possible outcomes, and all that's left for you to do is to let. her. out. you have no other choice - they're all grayed out. whether it's a broken hero or your own amnesia-blocked trauma doing this is anyone's guess, but the fact remains.

in the leadup to the moment of clarity, she takes off her mask, the thing that's kept her seeming morbidly cheerful and playful throughout the rest of the route despite her multiple open threats and gleeful hatred of the world. the narrator describes, in detail, a horrific existence which she is baring to you in an attempt to get you to help her to leave. she takes off her mask, stops playing nice with you, and tries to get you to see her side of the story, tries to get you to at least pity her and leave.

it's so bad the narrator stops narrating and refuses to go on.

think about this. this is the guy who narrates the entirety of the fury sequence, cool and calm. he describes the nightmarish cabin matter-of-factly a few minutes before, which hero points out. he isn't bothered by you getting killed except that it means his plans are ruined and the world is doomed, and he tells you about various gruesome deaths such as being crushed by vines or watching the prisoner chop her own head off. the only other times i can think of that he despairs like this is when you fail your mission (by freeing or dying to the princess) or when he himself is in danger (getting burned up by apotheosis, getting controlled by the tower). but in nightmare, the vision is so horrible that he cannot stand going on. (paranoid also stops chanting at this time, but he does that before when his concentration is broken. narry is notably VERY DEAD SET on his goal of slaying the princess. he's not like this!)

what this vision is exactly, i cannot tell, but for the sake of this analysis i'm going to interpret it as what she is, behind the mask, behind the facade of a vessel. shifty offloads the nature of her existence, the purest distillation of change - a lifetime, the circle of life, bloom and decay and burgeoning rot over and over and over again, success and fame turning into scandals and dishonor and poverty, humans living and changing into monsters or saints, every choice you make irreversibly altering the tapestry of time you are a part of. she represents the future and its unpredictable nature, and people trying to adapt to changing societal pressures and failing to evolve fast enough, and each unlucky twist of fate that leads to ruin and despair. she is survival of the fittest, and she is testing you.

this is what the nightmare is, under the mask. a monster, a murderer, the essence of death and destruction. this is what you are denying agency.

in this light, refusing shifty's offer of godhood seems almost reasonable. maybe she's trapped here for a reason. death is... pretty bad, isn't it? if our cool-headed narrator doesn't want her out, maybe there's a reason for that. maybe he's loved and lost - maybe he's seeing reflections of himself, in the princess' experiences, and the reason why he's so set on you slaying her is to prevent this nightmare from happening to anyone else.

you die, of course. you have the audacity to die. and when you wake again - we don't know whether she's hopeful you've learned the error of your ways, or whether she's still as forceful as in chapter II, but one thing's for certain - she doesn't win. you still act as the prison guard. you still keep her away from her only goal, and you become determined to keep it that way.

so you guard the door. you slay her. you romance her and question her and murder her and you end up with different voices, each time, different fragments of change that help you evolve to fight her but you always end up with the same princess with the same goal and nothing's getting better and you keep on denying her freedom because she's clearly awful and you're clearly the guard to an irredeemable prisoner.

from her perspective, mind you, she's been locked in a room for no reason, teased with escape, accidentally killed you while trying to leave, entertained your faints and questions, bared her soul to you in order to get you to understand why leaving her alone is such a bad idea, and then you died and promptly doubled down on your decision.

it's hell for her! she doesn't know why you're doing this! she's forced to react to your actions, because you're the one who can take the knife and you're the one who can leave! she lashes out! how dare you! how dare you keep her trapped here! why can't she leave! why can't she be the one in control of her fate! why do you hate her so much, that you are willing to die over and over just to keep her trapped?

so she lashes out at you. she takes vengeance on her captor, and she hunts you again and again, eroding away your defiance loop by painstaking loop. we don't know exactly what she did. we probably don't want to. but it's bad enough to break the voices, shatter many of them beyond recognition, and outright deny us our autonomy in a way that's only otherwise seen in tower.

and i'm not saying she's a saint! i know this whole analysis i've been on her side but that's because most people aren't! she's undeniably cruel to lq, but the thing most people forget is he was cruel first! she is a creature of perception and he denies her even that basic privilege! and she reacts violently! she lashes out and tries to threaten him into staying! has no qualms with sacrificing the world if she can get out! the nightmare cranks the abandonment anxiety of all the princesses up and adds a vicious vengeance to her as well!

but also. this route shows how hero isn't quite so perfect as he appears to be. you get this route by taking hero's third option, which satisfies no one. (it's also worth noting that HEA is also hero's call.) you abandon her, she who literally never has met anyone beside yourself, and that breaks her. so she tries to cling onto you. she possesses you and shatters you and threatens you and wants you there because she knows nothing else and she's already fractured from shifty's splintering, she can't fracture further, so she'll squeeze and claw for any bit of companionship she can get. she'll hunt you down for sport if it means she can spend a few minutes with you perceiving her. she's lonely is what she is. and she's reacting in the worst way possible.

where were we? oh, right. moment of clarity.

eventually, though, after untold numbers of loops where you keep doggedly trying to keep her locked away, she breaks through. she exhausts your options, traumatizes you, forces you to let her out. she will not be defeated. she will have her way. she makes sure of it.

what i also find interesting is that you're not scared of her anymore. paranoia isn't chanting away in the background. there's no more fear - just resignation. no one's happy with your third option, just as the narrator said back when you made it in the first cabin - everyone just wants it to end, and the only voice of dissent is the narrator, who doesn't even remember what's happened and doesn't know how awful it is to keep on trudging through the same, unchanging story over and over and over again. it's not new, or exciting, or changing anymore. it's just painful. you should really just let her out.

ah, but you might be wise enough not to try and pick that third option, and instead choose the more traditional two options - leaving or slaying.

leaving with the nightmare, like most chapter II endings, is pretty straightforward - you comply with her wishes and let. her. out. if you have the knife, there's a fun moment where paranoid says 'fuck you' to the narrator, but otherwise you give her her agency again. you allow her out. you've learned the error of your ways - now you'll let her free.

and, granted, she does wish death onto the world, but - as detailed above - she does kinda deserve it. i'd let her. she should kill people. i want to watch it happen :3

but if you choose to slay her, she reacts not with indignance but with gleeful wickedness. she can't believe you - a paranoid, helpless thing that she'd decided was barely a person at all, just a key that kept getting stuck in the lock, just a helpless little birdie who couldn't even stay alive in the face of her beauty and power - actually killed her! she's too surprised to be angry, i think. and then that surprise turns into realization - she's already figured out that you were always going to keep coming back until you let. her. out, and she can feel herself changing as a result of your changing perception.

and thus we meet the wraith.

while she has the same dialogue no matter where you kill her, you get different voices depending on where you do it - oppy on the stairs/in the cabin, cold if you do it in the basement. you're also forced to kill yourself either way - she tosses you into the void if you betray her, and you're stuck in the basement if you kill her in the basement since, as mentioned before, she won't give you the stairs. you die either from biology or suicide, and then you go into the wraith.

the wraith is a vengeful creature, and for good reason. she tried being nice to you! she tried talking to you, then tried threatening you, then tried forcing you. but you keep refusing! you keep dying, stubbornly, before you can reach her... you keep killing her before she can reach the outside... you keep teasing her with freedom! you keep her away from freedom, so tantalizingly close yet far.

and she's done being nice. she's seen where that's gotten her - a paranoid corpse and a knife through her heart. it's not her fault you keep dying! you just can't help being so afraid of a shackled princess that you're willing to kill yourself to be rid of her! so she's going to take it by force. she'll be evil. that's the only way things get done around here.

so she transforms into the wraith, a half-dead thing with a skeletal grin and grasping claws. you're introduced to her when she twists your ankle and drags you down to her level. she also explains that she was so, so close to freedom last time, but then you locked her away, killed her, and took her body away from her. so she's going to take your body away and march out that door, and you're going to be completely helpless during all of this, just like she was.

interestingly, she also limits your freedom, just like she did last time - if you ask her questions twice, she'll cut you off and take over your body then and there. she's done entertaining your frivolous questions. she wants to leave. let. her. out. she also goes ahead and possesses you without a second thought if you try to struggle or give up

a few interesting highlights from these explore options: you can claim that you were a victim in all of this, and she says, "Just because someone hurt you doesn't mean you get a free pass to hurt anyone else." some delicious hypocrisy there, wraith, as the voices point out. but perhaps she doesn't even see you as someone who can hurt, thus justifying her possession and torture of you. someone who can hurt would have sympathy for the poor locked up princess in the dark basement, and they certainly wouldn't lock her away and stab her to death. only heartless people do that, and heartless people can't be hurt. if you tell her that possessing you is evil, she says, "After all you've done, why would I ever care what you think of me?" she's past the point of evil and not-evil. to her, you're evil - you hurt her first, after all. whether a villain sees a hero as evil is irrelevant; to her, you're means to an end, an end that is always dancing just out of reach. possessing you is a necessary step to her goal.

she then possesses you.

now that she's in your head, she realizes that you also have voices in your head. oppy is immediately on wraith's side, because of course he is, and cold's a bit ambivalent about the whole ordeal (as he often is), though he's leaning toward your side. narry and hero are mortified, as they are wont.

if you struggle as she possesses you, paranoid's able to save up a bit of will and uses it to help you defy her one last time. first you lock her away in the basement, then you stab her, then you are literally willing to kill yourself and fall forever to be rid of her. she's sadistic as she tries to force you to move, but if you want to - because you're the one with agency here, still, even as she forces you to shamble toward the door on a broken ankle, even as she usurps your body and forces you to watch - you can throw yourself out the window.

as you fall, she asks you why you hate her. why you've always hated her. why you didn't trust her when you locked her away, why you decided to stab a knife through someone who didn't even want to kill you, why you defied her even with a shattered ankle and her voice in your head. why you decided your autonomy was more worthy than hers, way back at the start, back when she didn't even want to kill you. why you hated her into the nightmare, and then the wraith. why you decided she was better off alone and abandoned.

and honestly? you might have a valid reason at this point. she did break your ankle, after all. she did shut down your organs and act gleeful about the end of the world. she's a monster. she's sadistic and cruel and horrible and she possessed you, for goodness' sake! you've been trying to defend yourself against a threat! you're literally dying all the time near nightmare, and wraith greets you by breaking your ankle! like, i understand why people hate her! i'm not saying she's a good person! no one is, in this series! that's part of the appeal!!!

but she never even tried to kill you. (to those who are going to say well what about the organs-shutting-down-thing, think about it rationally: she needs you to get out. you fainting and dying isn't helping her. it's an active detriment. if she could control it, she probably wouldn't do it, because you being dead just shunts you back into the same hellvoid again.) she never locked you away forever. that was you. you keep taunting her with freedom and then shutting her away. you killed her and trapped her and, to her, you forced her into this. you forced her to hurt you and possess you and make you fear her. this isn't her fault. this is yours. for locking her away, for killing her, for denying her her one wish. she tried, in that first chapter. and you decided she wasn't worth the time of day.

personally, i would've made this choice also branch off into MoC. this game doesn't do fourth chapters - and i understand why - but i feel like it would've been fulfilling. she finally gets her freedom after you kill her and kill yourself and lock her away and keep her from getting out. you wouldn't even have to change much - you've already proven you're not going to let her out again. who's to say that the wraith wasn't one of MoC's iterations, and that the voices leading the charge then were also able to store some will and kill themselves before she could escape?

and maybe they were right. we don't know what happened between the nightmare and MoC, and we never will. maybe she was horrifically cruel, an unfeeling maniac. maybe she was pleading to be let out, and you weren't having that. maybe she was doing both. what we know is she never left the cabin.

finally, i want to draw attention to what, exactly, shifty says about each vessel. she gives us our best glimpse into each vessel's psyche, as someone who is part of them. her little speech often endears me to the princess i delivered, even if i wasn't very fond of her.

for the nightmare, she states, "This one is filled with sadness. A doll abandoned to the company of her darkest impulses. She desires only companionship, but the only thing she knows is how to hurt. She will make for a tender heart."

this reinforces what i've been saying throughout the whole analysis - most of the nightmare's nightmarish qualities come from her desperate need to be perceived by someone else. to be known. you doom her to a life of eternal loneliness, so she gives into her darkest urges and hurts you, over and over again, to try and win you over. she doesn't know how to do otherwise.

for the moment of clarity she states, "This one is a waiting maw. An inevitable destination where all roads end. She will make for a wise heart."

she chased you over and over until you broke, waiting for you to shatter and let her out. no matter what you tried to do, no matter which choices you made or roads you took, she awaited you, and you awaited her. she was made wise through your attempts to defy her, and eventually she won the long game. it was inevitable, really. you did your best. there's just a pecking order, and you'll always be at the bottom.

and about the wraith she states: "This one is loneliness turned to seething. She could not find her strength in others, so she found it in herself. She will make for a driven heart."

when you refused to save her, when you defied her over and over, she realized she couldn't rely on you to save her. you took everything she had away from her. so she took everything you had - a pristine blade, a free body - away from you instead. she used to be lonely, scared - but now she is powerful, hateful, laughing even as you throw her out a window in a spiteful act of defiance. you monster.

but eventually, inevitably, finally, she rejoins the shifting mound as one of her many perspectives. she finds peace, finally, in the eternal choir of the vessels.

do not mourn her. she is not alone anymore.

...

this analysis is not in defense of her actions - she does do some pretty fucked up things in this! pro tip: do not break people's ankles and then possess them, and also do not torture someone and break their will. just a suggestion.

but the reason i'm making this analysis is that so many people will say that nightmare/MoC (and tower, though this analysis isn't about her (but i love her very much and she was so valid for mind controlling the narrator)) is a horrible irredeemable bitch, and then they'll turn around and praise smitten/oppy/cold.

and that feels... more than a little hypocritical to me. oppy is literally a backstabbing bastard who allies with the person who has the most power - he literally tries to stab you in patd! he is born out of the decision to betray the princess when she's finally thought she could trust you, similarly to the nightmare, except this time you're killing her instead of locking her away. in HEA, he decides that free food is worth more than the princess' happiness, and in thorn he wants to stab the princess because of her newfound vulnerability.

and yet i've seen so many analyses of his behavior! so many people excusing him as a sopping wet cat who just doesn't want to die. and it's like, well, okay, i'm not going to stop you from liking oppy. i'm not a cop. i can get why you might like a morally gray kinda sneaky character. but it just feels a little misogynistic when you hate the nightmare, who also resorts to desperate measures in order to not die, don'tcha think?

or cold! i'm gonna be honest i'm a bit more favorable of cold, but he still advocates for killing the princess when he thinks it'll be interesting. he is literally born when you don't even try to hear the princess out in the first place, coldly stabbing her without a second thought. he values novelty over pain. and yet people will praise him and then turn around and criticize the tower for not caring about you at all!

ugh. i just... hate the shifty neg, you know? so many ppl hate her for being 'manipulative' and 'self-centered' while completely ignoring your own hand in shaping her! she is a creature of perception, after all - the damsel and the tower are wildly different, and they both change based on how you act. each princess is a reflection of your own thoughts toward her. and people hate on the nightmare for *checks script* trying to leave the basement she was locked into, and then reacting violently when the only person she's ever known decides to keep her trapped, possibly for forever. like, you all see why she'd do that, right.

...also, like. god forbid women do anything. even if she did do all that organ-shutting-down stuff of her own volition, good for her. she should do it more. she should kill everyone who disagrees with her. she was locked in a basement and abandoned by the first person she met i think she deserves to kill and slaughter.

andddd end of post! again i am NOT, like, a practiced analyst. there are almost certainly things i got wrong during this, and feel free to bring those up in the comments! i will admit this got a bit out of hand and turned halfway into a gushing-about-nightmare post.

also i just want to reiterate that this analysis explores her motives and explains why she's Like That, and again i am not trying to say she's a precious cinnamon roll. just that she's got some reasons for doing what she does.

ALSO ALSO PLEASE DO NOT MAKE THIS POST ABOUT THE VOICES THIS POST IS ABOUT THE NIGHTMARE AND HER ITERATIONS!!! MAKE YOUR OWN POST!!!

alright! that's it! russet out!

#stp meta #stp princess #stp nightmare #stp the nightmare #stp wraith #stp the wraith #stp moment of clarity #stp moc #stp the moment of clarity #slay the princess #stp analysis #flickering lights in empty cityscapes #russet rambles #between the lines #im running off four hours of sleep here (had to catch a flight) please do not be mean in the notes #also at some point i want to add a bit about them at the end pf everything. since you literally see through their eyes

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sunny-mercya · 4 months ago

Text

Flushed Red

Eustass Kid x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Masterlist

Eustass “Captain” Kid—as part of the Worst Generation and the Eleven Supernovas—is a name to be remembered and a pirate to be feared, after all he's ruthless and mercilessly towards anyone who stumbles through his path and believes they're superior than him.

Honestly, a much better and on point description of Kid is, that he's actually just a big hothead—easily to anger, anger issues are the biggest flex trait in his personality, with the simplest things—with lost of stubbornness and a love for rowdy destructions—or at least these are the words you have used to describe Kid to your friends, after you had introduced him to them.

Kid who had never felt any shame or embarrassment before—why should he even, when there's pride to show off and pure intimidation to scare off and make people scam—but when Kid and his crew clothes had been switched to these, skimpy outfits, felt for once the embarrassment.

Or more like, first it had been anger—which rose quickly in him, ready to smash something—but when you, with the Strawhats, had been walking down the bridge, the embarrassment pools into his stomach like a flood.

In his sole defence—glaring at Killer when he had let out a cough of amusement—Kid was only embarrassed, because you, when you and the Strawhats had been walking down the bridge, had seeing him in these clothes—and than your damned smile, when skipping happily towards him and greeting him with a hug, clinging onto him like a Koala, just fuels the that embarrassment more.

Giving Kid, so shamelessly, in front of everyone of everyone a big smooch to his cheek, you exclaimed »You look really cute Kid!«

»You know, maybe you should wear this to bed sometimes soon! Makes you real sexy and I wouldn't mind to be conquered by you again, hot stuff.« and another kiss, this time on the lips.

»[Name]!?« Nami and Sanji's shout of your name were the loudest, because, even though they knew Kid and you are a couple, they're shocked to hear something like this out of your innocent mouth—then Nami, with a murderous glare, turns to Sanji and slaps him against the head, berating him how he's at fault for your foul language.

»Haa?! Oi! [Nickname]! What ya mean with this!?« oh, but Luffy was screaming—confused with what you meant, although given Kid a compliment to his new outfit as well.

Robin and Killer found pure amusement in this situation, Zoro muttering something under his breath, Usopp look likes crying, Chopper just like Kid himself looked embarrassed and Franky, Brook and Jinbei had this disapproving parental glance towards Kid

The anger rose, like a sparked match, in your boyfriend within minutes—you could tell, with the way how his non-metal arm, which holds you in place so you wouldn't fall off from him—given the size difference between the two of you—tightens around you and how his face goes into a scowl.

You whine, Kid has different sorts of anger and the upcoming anger is something you never really liked, it's so overwhelming and sometimes scary, to witness from your boyfriend.

»All of you! Sh Shut up!« snaps Kid, face so flushed red now it could rival his hair, frustration clear in his voice as he couldn't smash something to get his steam out—he would have, but pushed it down out of consideration towards you.

When setting you back down, Kid takes a good look at you—your current outfit to be exact, which makes his scowl deepen even more.

»Oi! Chibi! What are you wearing?«

»You like it? Nami-chan has picked it out for me. It suits me really well, doesn't it? I really think so!« you beamed at Kid, showcasing your outfit more to your boyfriend.

Kid licks over his lips, clenching his metal fist—glaring at Nami, who takes immediately cover behind Robin, couldn't believe this girl friend of yours had the courage to dress you up like this—wanted to disagree with you, finding your outfit not pleasant at all.

It's too skin revealing—exposed legs and thighs, naked stomach and bare shoulders, collarbone visible and chest a bit open for show—for Kid's liking, setting off jealousy and his possessiveness towards you.

Damn, what you currently wearing makes you a target for hungry eyes and Kid wished nothing more to scoop you up in his arms, just to block off the world views from you, because no one is allowed to look at your naked skin besides Kid himself.

Feeling something soft and warm being placed on your shoulders, you looked up at Kid—who had turned his head away, scowl had gone into a slight pout and the red flush on his cheeks had deepen once more—smiling at him, you let yourself fall backwards against Kid's chest and Kid, without looking your way, catches you with his good arm.

»Ne, Kid?« he hums in acknowledgement, waiting for you to continue whatever you're about to say next.

»Do your best! I believe in you, you're the strongest!«

»Shut up.«

#male reader #x male reader #fanfiction #malereader #anime #xmalereader #oneshot #manga #one piece x male reader #one piece #eustass kid #eustass captain kidd #kid x male reader #eustass kid x male reader #one piece eustass

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mushroom-words · 4 months ago

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Hide and Seek || Jerry Dandridge

Fandom: Fright Night (2011) Pairing: Jerry Dandridge x Fem!Reader Words: 2340 Note: This has been rewritten and reposted from a previous blog. I love the OG Jerry (played by Chris Sarandon), but Colin Farrell's version just plays into all of my dark and twisted fantasies. Warnings: Dark romance. Predator and prey. Vampirism. Blood. Light petting. Possession (or manipulation, depending on how you want to interpret it). Reader is Charley's sister. Summary: Your plan to rescue your neighbor from him doesn't go as planned. He's laid claim to you—and now, he finally has you to himself.

HE MOVED AROUND in the next room. You crept around the staircase to avoid being detected. Completely unaware that he knew exactly where you were. Acting like he didn’t see you trying to escape. Your fear clogged the air thick enough for him to taste it on his tongue.

You took in the floor plan. It was the same as yours—the same as every other house in the neighborhood. He settled in the living room with a beer and turned on the TV. The volume raised until you could just barely hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Come on,” you whispered. You grabbed Doris’ hand and tugged her through the kitchen. The back door was within reach. You bolted for the safety net. Doris stumbled weakly into a dining chair. The legs scraped along the floor loudly.

You didn’t waste another second. You threw open the door and all but shoved Doris through it. Sunlight hit them like a beacon.

His hand muffled your scream as it clapped over your mouth. He yanked you back into him, trapping you against his firm body with an arm around your waist. It pinned you against him like a steel bar that you had no chance of bending.

“Leaving so soon, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled with amusement. Tears burned your eyes and spilled from your lashes. He rested his chin on top of your head.

“Watch,” he commanded. “This is what happens when you try to play the hero.”

Doris stumbled a few feet into the sun. A choking noise bubbled gutturally from her throat. She turned around slowly and locked eyes with you. The light blue of her eyes darkened into an inky abyss. Her skin bled out what little color it had left, transforming into an ashy pallor. Her veins greyed out and spider-webbed beneath her flesh.

Then she caught fire. Flames completely engulfed her body—and then she exploded. Her skin shriveled up in paper ashes that rained down to pepper the perfectly manicured lawn. You cried out behind his hand as your neighbor disintegrated before your very eyes.

Your legs buckled. He let you go as you collapsed to the linoleum in a heap of despair. Sobs wrenched from your throat. You couldn’t move.

Jerry sighed and shut the door. Darkness bathed the room once more. The blacked-out windows blocked any light from filtering inside. Shielded him from the same fate as Doris. Trapped you inside with him.

The lock slid into place. He had you right where he wanted you. Now you were fully at his mercy. There was nowhere else to run. Nowhere to hide.

“She didn’t have to die, (Y/N),” he said. He turned to face you, black eyes glinting in amusement. “You did this to her.”

You shook your head, fingers curling against the floor. “No…”

“She would have lived forever if you hadn’t come. Now she’s gone forever. Damned to suffer eternally.” He grinned, canines elongated at either side of his mouth. “Because of you, baby girl.”

“No…”

“You killed her, (Y/N).”

“No!” You staggered to your feet and glared up at him. He kept his eyes locked with yours, enjoying the fire still ignited behind the anguish. A fire he knew would flourish once he had you once and for all.

You gasped as he closed in on you. His fingers grabbed your jaw so tightly it popped your mouth open. Bruises immediately bloomed beneath his grip. Painted your pretty skin with his imprint.

“I’ve been watching you, sweetheart. And you know what I’ve noticed?” Jerry’s smile seemed to soften a bit as he gazed down at you, eyes flickering hungrily. “You’re alone. No one really understands your struggle, do they? Your mom’s always at work. Your brother is bus running with his new friends and girlfriend. They’re not there for you.

“That’s what makes your scent so strong,” he continued. “The neglect, the frustration… You reek of it, baby girl. You really are alone in this world, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”

The denial evaporated from her tongue like ash. You hated him. You hated him for what he did to Doris. You hated him for what he did to the Johnsons and everyone else in the news. You hated him for using Doris to get to you.

But most of all, you hated him for pinpointing exactly how you felt when no one else cared enough to notice.

“Fuck you,” you whispered. Your voice trembled in tune with the shivers skittering up your spine.

He brought his face closer to yours. “Do you know what other scent is on you, right at this moment?” Jerry inhaled deeply, hummed, and grinned down at you like the cat who had just caught the mouse.

Always in a game of cat and mouse.

“Your fear.”

You ripped yourself away from him the second you felt his grip loosen. You sprinted back up the stairs, tears blinding your vision. He chuckled darkly as he watched you scamper away like the little mouse you were in his game. The chase always made things more interesting. It was so boring when victims gave in to death so easily.

You scrambled up to the second floor. There had been a window in the bedroom. If you could just get to it in time, you might be able to escape. He wouldn’t be able to follow you outside.

You raced by the bed and yanked on the window. It was painted shut. There wasn’t enough time for you to try another one. His footsteps thudded up the stairs patiently. A slow, casual pace. He wasn’t worried about you escaping. Any route you had was downstairs, and he had blocked you from accessing them.

You darted into the closet, closed the French doors, and sunk down behind the rows of uniforms he had hanging up. Uniforms he used to gain access to people’s houses. Outfits that often won him an invitation inside.

The thought punched you in the gut. How many of those uniforms had led to someone’s death?

Jerry whistled a tune as he stepped onto the landing. Your essence floated through the house like a specter. An ethereal goddess whose soul he yearned to taint. He sniffed the air, relishing the sweet scent of your fear.

Your heart thumped in your chest like a drum. He sensed the pulse of your blood as it coursed through your body. You couldn’t hide from him. But he was going to let you think that you could.

It had been a long time since he’d had such an exciting game on his hands. He was going to enjoy every second of it.

You pressed your hand over your mouth to mute your ragged breaths. You squeezed your eyes shut. His footsteps paused in the doorway of his bedroom. You recited a prayer to whatever higher power could hear your please.

“Running from your problems is never the answer, (Y/N).” Jerry stepped into his bedroom. He glanced up at his tapestry before sweeping his gaze around the space. Slowly he moved across the floor, making every footfall deliberate. “You can’t hide forever, baby girl,” he taunted.

He could hear every shaky breath you tried to suppress. Humming to himself, he rounded the bed. The beast begged to be released. To yank you out by your hair and tear into your pretty neck. Feel the warmth of your life slide down his throat. See the light bleed from you.

Just a few more moments, and it would all be over for his sweet little mouse.

You felt the tears tracking down your face. You choked back the sobs that threatened to give away your hiding spot.Tucked away into the corner of the closet, partially concealed by the clothes, you feared you would never see the light of day again.

Would he kill you? Turn you? Or maybe he would punish you. Turn you into one of him and shove you out into the sun. Watch her burn like Doris.

You didn’t want to die.

The shadow of his work boots came to a stop in front of the closet. Any dash of hope remaining vanished. He knew where you were. He knew exactly where you were hiding. Knew the suspense was a ploy in his game. Drawing it out for his own sadistic pleasure.

You knew you had stepped into your final resting place. He was going to take your life one way or another.

Jerry yanked the double doors open. You let your hand drop from your mouth, releasing the sob that had been stuck in your throat. You pushed yourself back as far as you could go. Like dipping further into the shadows would save you.

“There you are, sweetheart.” His devilish grin plucked a chord of terror through your heart. Was he done playing with you? Was this it?

You cried out as he lunged for you. Caught in his grasp, you were snatched out of the closet. Dragged out into the bedroom. You kicked and screamed, hoping someone would hear your cries for help and call the police. Hoping Charley would hear and come to your rescue.

Jerry shushed you gently, like you were a child, and held you close to him. Your struggles were little more than a pesky annoyance, like a fly that refused to leave his space. He fed on the fear you radiated, let it fuel the beast that simmered just under the surface.

His hand curled around your throat firmly. He smirked and put a finger up to his lips.

“You don’t want more deaths on your hands, do you?” His free hand tucked some hair back behind your ear. You flinched at his touch, repulsed by the cold fingers brushing against your hot face.

You felt your strength waning. Exhaustion warred with your will to continue fighting. What was the point? He had her now, and he wasn’t letting you go. You stared up into his eyes, able to see through the veil of tears how there was no color left even in the whites. You stared right into the abyss.

“Charley will find out,” you choked out. “He’ll come for me.”

Jerry smiled doubtfully. Humor danced across his pale features, amused by your continued attempts to fight him despite your subconscious trying to give in. Deep down, you knew you were his. You belonged to him.

Now you would belong to him for eternity.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he pierced his teeth through the marbled skin. Dark blood pooled in the incision. You watched in horror as he smeared it over his lips.

“You don’t have to be alone, (Y/N),” he said softly, noting how your eyes remained fixed on his bloodied mouth. You snapped your gaze back up to his, your breathing quickening. Heart thumping quicker and quicker, harder and harder.

Your blood sang for him.

“I’ll take the pain away. You don’t have to be alone anymore, baby girl.”

He watched the resolve in your eyes disintegrate at his promise. You were tired. Tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of being alone. Tired of not being understood.

He pulled you closer and whispered, “It’ll be like a dream.”

Jerry weaved his hand into your hair, tangling the strands in his fingers, and tugged your head back so you were looking up at him. Tears glimmered against the desperate hues mixed in your eyes. Lips already parted like an invitation.

Slowly you nodded your head, your resolve crumbling into dust.

He grinned. “Good girl.”

His mouth descended upon yours. He kissed you hungrily, pressing hard in a precise flurry of teeth and tongue. His chest rumbled in approval as you moved against him. The tang of his blood infiltrated your taste buds as you desperately reciprocated. Your hands darted up to tug at his hair the more you lost yourself in his essence.

You barely registered how your shirt ripped away from your body, his hands eagerly roaming your body, mapping out your curves. Your head felt light and airy, like you were floating amongst the clouds. All you could focus on was him. He surrounded you—he was inside of you, his blood coursed through you. You eagerly helped yank his shirt up over his head before his lips claimed yours once more.

You were his. He was yours.

Jerry yanked your head to the side. His lips danced along the exposed expanse of your neck, tongue flicking along your pulse. You pushed your body against his, holding yourself close. Your little noises stirred up his composure until the beast had waited long enough.

He tightened his grip to prevent you from moving away. You whined, fingers grappling at his shoulders, nails digging into the solid muscle. Jerry kissed your neck once more before latching on. His teeth sunk deep into the warm flesh, your blood immediately filling his mouth.

You gasped and jerked. He held fast, bruising your fragile human form as he gulped down mouthful after mouthful. Euphoria lifted her higher and higher. Your eyes rolled back inside your head while your body convulsed with each pull. Gradually your grip on him loosened until your arms fell lax at your sides. You slumped against him, eyes fluttering weakly, quiet whimpers the only sound strong enough to make it out of her throat. A couple tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

Your vision faded at the edges, black edging in like a vignette. Jerry ripped himself away from your neck. Blood—your blood, you thought faintly—covered his mouth and chin. He pinned you against him with his arm behind your back, putting his hand back in your hair to make you look up at him.

“The loneliness stops here, sweetheart,” he said gently, watching how you struggled to keep your eyes open. Noting how much fairer your skin seemed now that he had drained you. “I’m here now.”

Jerry kissed you again. Soft and tender, like a lover.

The world went dark.

#fright night #fright night 2011 #fright night x reader #jerry dandridge #jerry dandridge x reader #colin farrell #🍄.ffn

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mirrorball-leclerc · 2 years ago

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big reputations - part five

series masterlist // previous // next

ASKING DANIEL RICCIARDO THE MOST POPULAR F1 FAN QUESTIONS

comments

user1 this interview further proves that max is daniel’s emotional support boyfriend.

↳ user2 was that ever up for debate?

↳ user1 no, but you get what i mean.

user3 oh, he’s got those stupid stars in his eyes again. this man is down bad.

user4 i love how he never brushes off questions about daphne. every single time he answers the questions about her

↳ user5 take notes joe alwyn. this is how you talk about mother daphne.

↳ user4 the shade towards joe. this fandom will never let him rest.

user6 these two are never beating the dating allegations.

↳ user7 i don't think they want to

↳ user6 oh for sure, these two want to know how far this whole thing is going to go

user8 even if they aren't dating it's such an adorable friendship

↳ user9 it'll be official when he meets ryan and blake. that's when you know they are actually dating.

↳ user8 or when she meets christian and max, oh wait.

↳ user9 that's actually a good point

user10 someone stop this man from being so down bad for daphne.

user11 i am loving that max is daphne and daniel's third wheel.

↳ user12 i'm living for max teasing daniel. you know this man does it constantly and never let's daniel rest

↳ user11 oh i know max has never given him a moment of peace.

george russell everyday i am reminded that daphne jones fans are a different breed.

lando norris i would ask why but i have been on twitter today. apparently dts is trending on netflix

alex albon charles, mate, you've got the daphne fans crying.

charles leclerc oh god, what did i do now?

fernando alonso season 1 episode 8 charles leclerc oh.

daniel ricciardo is that why we're trending? i thought old tweets of mine were found and i was getting cancelled

esteban ocon have you said things that’ll get you cancelled?

daniel ricciardo no, but it’s a genuine fear estie! max verstappen at the ‘girlies’ have joined in on our mutual hatred for zak (oscar and lando you saw nothing) oscar piastri never thought i would see the day max verstappen said ‘girlies’

yuki tsunoda added one person

yuki tsunoda speaking of daphne jones ARE YOU TWO DATING RICCIARDO??

george russell yuki who did you add??

unknown number hello, it's liam lawson. george russell oh cool.

daniel ricciardo i don't feel like i have to expose my personal life to you people. i already see you too much.

max verstappen stop being a pussy and ask her out.

daniel ricciardo how about you shut the fuck up for once?

charles leclerc in the words of arthur, 'uh oh, the girls are fighting'

logan sargeant arthur's chronically online so it doesn't surprise me that he knows what that is.

valtteri bottas have you asked her out daniel?

nico hülkenberg i have to admit this is the highlight of my year, have you done it yet ricciardo??

kevin magnussen yes, have you?

mark webber MAN UP RICCIARDO! FUCKING DO IT ALREADY!

jenson button no pressure or anything, but have you?

daniel ricciardo oh for fucks sake. i hate all of you.

liam lawson i'm so confused.

liam lawson i thought they were dating already? considering what ajdbfwei

max verstappen sorry, liam is currently out of commission.

george russell why is that so fucking threatening? what did you do verstappen?

max verstappen nothing. liam is just out of it for the next 20-30 minutes

sergio perez i have never seen max's body move so fast. i fear liam is unconscious.

carlos sainz what the hell is happening?

daniel ricciardo what the hell did you do to liam? is he okay?

max verstappen liam is okay. i pinky swear it.

daphne jones what happened?

max verstappen i was not going to let liam ruin the magnificent plan that i made. he had to be silenced.

daniel ricciardo you make it sound like you killed the poor guy

daphne jones he makes it sound like he's a mafia hitman

max verstappen i could totally be a hitman.

daniel ricciardo cat-dad verstappen could never be a hitman. mad-max however is a different story.

max verstappen i could be a hitman who loves cats. hitmen have many sides to them daniel.

daniel ricciardo do you think this man could be a hitman?

daphne jones that man could never be a hitman

daniel ricciardo could max be a hitman?

charles leclerc absolutely not oscar piastri no fucking way sabrina carpenter i'm going to need context but the answer is no

max verstappen fuck you guys. i could be hitman.

daphne jones face it max, you could never be one.

sabrina carpenter however this version of max and charles could totally be hitmen

charles leclerc how the hell?

sabrina carpenter tiktok is a wonderful place.

daphne jones i thought it was the countless twitter tags asking if you had seen it already? sabrina carpenter oh no it came up on my for you page. it was a video called f1 quotes i quote on the daily. i, of course spiralled when i saw that specific part.

sabrina carpenter my favorite driver is kimi.

charles leclerc well he's retired. so who's your favorite driver on the grid right now?

sabrina carpenter fernando alonso

daniel ricciardo wow, that's so mean.

oscar piastri i would've said the same thing just to annoy you.

daniel ricciardo look who's no longer my favorite grid son

charles leclerc what the fuck? i'm a part of this group chat too.

daniel ricciardo you're on thin fucking ice until you tell xavi off or someone at ferrari.

max verstappen you can't seriously still be bitter about singapore

daniel ricciardo OF COURSE I CAN! HE WAS SACRIFICED MAX! LIKE A LAMB TO SLAUGHTER! I CAN BE BITTER IF HE WON'T!

sabrina carpenter i think charles has no choice but to enter his reputation era.

oscar piastri not yet, he hasn't hit rock bottom yet. charles leclerc and, in the rookie's opinion, what is rock bottom? oscar piastri dnf, dns, dsq max verstappen if at any point charles gets dsq'd i will be calling oscar a psychic. daniel ricciardo WHY WOULD YOU PUT THAT OUT THERE OSCAR??

sabrina carpenter so, mom, dad, are we going to qatar??

oscar piastri yeah, mom and dad, will you be at qatar?

max verstappen they went from being two strangers to mom and dad to three children in span of a few months.

charles leclerc he's only a few years older than me, how is he my father?

sabrina carpenter you dare argue with the twitter giriles?

charles leclerc no?

sabrina carpenter then congrats, you are now mine and oscar's older brother.

oscar piastri charles right now

max verstappen he should save that energy for xavi and ferrari

charles leclerc don't tempt me to crash into you max. i'll do it. then we'll have to wait another weekend to see you crowned world champion again

daphne jones THAT'S THIS WEEKEND? OH WE DEFINITELY HAVE TO BE A QATAR!

sabrina carpenter via air max?

max verstappen who told the pop girl about air max?

sabrina carpenter once again, tiktok is a wonderful place max verstappen once again, i hate you so much sabrina carpenter stay pressed sid. i'm their child and you are simply daniel's mistress. oscar piastri what is it the twitter people say? gagged him.

taglist: @glow-ish @agustdpeach @msolbesg @spilled-coffee-cup @1nt3rnetgf @six-call

¡leclerc-s speaks! can you tell i started rewatching dts now that the season is over? i actually do cry everytime i watch episode 8 of season 1. personally, i love suzuka, but i think the fia's choices with putting tractors on the track has given it a bad history. anyways, hope you enjoyed this, it's a little sad but i never write sad stuff so this is new.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #big reputations series #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x female oc #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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justcallmemrslupin · 4 days ago

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Things About Remus Lupin That Fandom Keeps Forgetting

We talk a lot about Remus Lupin’s kindness. And yes, he’s kind. Devastatingly kind. Gentle. Wise. A quiet anchor in a chaotic world. But what we don’t talk about enough is how much pain he holds under that surface. How much control it takes to look kind, when so much has been taken from you.

Remus Lupin is not just kind. He’s flawed, he’s hilarious, and he’s deeply sad. And he wraps all that mess in a threadbare cardigan and a polite smile like a bomb disguised as a paperback novel.

Let’s talk about the coldness.

That icy, polite coldness when he’s suppressing something monstrous inside him, like when he wants to kill Peter — or rather spare him the Dementor's Kiss — but won’t let himself feel it too loudly, so it comes out sharp, flat. Or when he leaves Tonks during her pregnancy, fully convinced that being noble means being cruel to himself. That’s how he survives the unspeakable: by shutting the door between his heart and his face. You don’t make it to 38 as a werewolf in the wizarding world without mastering that mask.

And the dry humour. Merlin, it’s lethal.

"No one is hiding Sirius Black under their cloaks. Move along."

"Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

"Wadiwasi!" — casually shooting gum into Peeves’ nose.

“I thought ‘The Chosen One’ would be enough for you.”

“Not a very popular guest at dinner parties.”

And when young Remus, talking about a question on a DADA test on how to identify a werewolf, quips:

“One: he’s sitting in my chair. Two: he’s wearing my clothes. Three: his name is Remus Lupin.” That’s not just humour; that’s pain disguised as punchline. That’s a kid surviving shame with wit.

And while we’re here... can we PLEASE talk about how absurdly powerful he is?

This man cast a Patronus and conjured flames with his bare hands at the same time without a wand or words. Two advanced spells. Simultaneously. Silently. In control. While barely awaken.

Let’s be clear: the Patronus charm is hard. It’s fueled by happy memories. And Remus? Remus doesn’t have a bank of golden moments to draw from. His life is loss layered on loss. And yet he does it. Effortlessly. That’s not just skill. That’s willpower. That’s raw, terrifying strength.

And let’s talk about how Remus Lupin always knows what to say.

And no, not in the “manipulative Slytherin” fanon kind of way. I’m talking about deep, strategic empathy, the kind you only learn when you've spent a lifetime navigating how people fear you, reject you, or pity you.

He doesn't just speak well — he listens first. Then he shifts your perspective with a sentence.

Examples? Let’s go:

To Snape in Prisoner of Azkaban: "You fool... is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back in Azkaban?" — Not “you’re wrong.” Not “stop.” He reframes the stakes. Makes Snape look in a mirror. That’s surgical.

To Harry when he catches him with the Marauder’s Map:

“Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them — gambling their sacrifice for a bag of tricks.” — He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t shame. He brings Harry’s own values into sharp focus and holds them up like a compass.

To Molly, when she breaks down over her Boggart: “What would we do to your kids if anything happened to you? Let them starve?” - It’s funny. It’s tender. It’s so smart. He doesn’t dismiss her fear, he includes himself in the imaginary consequence, showing her that she’s not alone, and never has been.

Remus uses humour as a balm. He uses language as a bridge. He doesn’t control people; he guides them. That’s leadership, not manipulation.

And the irony? Most of the time, he can’t offer himself the same grace.

He knows exactly how to make other people feel worthy, safe, seen. But when it comes to himself, that voice is silent. That wisdom doesn’t reach inward. That’s what makes him so devastating.

He’s not flawless. He screws up. He leaves. He represses. But when you zoom out, Remus Lupin is the person everyone turns to when they need to understand something painful. And he always delivers. Quietly. Calmly. Sharply.

Remus doesn't just fight darkness. He translates it. And then he hands you the map.

Remus Lupin is not soft. He is sharp. Controlled. Bitingly funny. Brutally intelligent. Crushingly lonely. And yes, kind. But in the way a steel blade is kind when it spares a life.

He's the kind of man who apologizes for existing and still manages to save everyone else.

He burns quietly. But make no mistake: he burns.

Remus John Lupin was never just a cardigan and a sad smile. He was a storm wrapped in gentleness.

#harry potter #remus lupin #remus lupin deserves better #remus lupin deserved better #remus lupin defense sqauad #harry potter fandom #hp fandom discourse #remus freaking lupin #canon remus lupin #real remus lupin #harry potter books #harry potter characters #fictional characters

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unhappy-last-resort · 8 months ago

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Golem's Treasure

Fandom: Morimens

Genre: Yandere

Main Characters: Uvhash, GN Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Stalking, erotic descriptions of blood-sucking, vaguely vampiric, implied nsfw, prob ooc, most definitely has some grammar or spelling mistakes because it's almost 2AM

A/N: So, Sensabo got me into Morimens and we both love Uvhash. He's kinda neat.

Hot water trickles down your skin, washing off the last of the soap and stress from the day and you breath in the humid air of your shower, a rare moment of warmth and peace in your dangerous day to day life but, time doesn't stand still for you, not even in the shower. With a sigh you shut off the water and pull open the curtain with a high-pitched screech of the metal hooks sliding over the pole, ready to dry yourself off and get ready for bed. Your favorite towel sits neatly folded right where you left it, and the steam floats in the air making the rest of the bathroom much less cold than you feared, along with the man crouched in the corner, watching you.

Unsurprisingly, you shriek and haphazardly yank the shower curtain forward, fumbling loudly much to the amusement of your intruder- whose cackles are bouncing off the walls and hurting your ears.

“Your frightened expressions are my favorite! I should do this more often- By the way, you make a lot of interesting noises in there, I was tempted to go and see what you were doing.”

You clenched the curtain so tight your knuckles were white and mustered all your rage into what you hoped was the angriest glare he’d ever seen in his life and thrust your head out from behind the curtain. “Uvhash! What the fuck are you doing?!”

The creature in question stretched his long arms, his joints moving against each other, pulled by invisble muscle and you absently wondered if he was like one of those deep sea fish that have see through organs- or if he even has other organs beyond that ominous heart. “I just wanted to spend time with you.” He shrugged, as if this was normal and an invasive and terrifying progression of his behavior.

“You- “spend time” with me by stalking me while I shower?”

“Is that wrong?”

Strangling, murder, disembowelment, decapitation, throwing a shower brush at him...Yeah, none of those will work. He would find all of those equally amusing and would leave you a bloody mess and still living Uvhash on your bathroom floor. Why do you have to deal with this again? What did you to deserve this? Whatever, take a deep breath and get him out.

“Uvhash.” You say in your sweetest voice straining with rage. “Please leave the bathroom.”

The corners of lips sink from a contented smile into a scowl, his eyes sharpening in protest at your apparently unreasonable request. “Wh-”

“Now.”

His shoulders heave in a sigh before he gathers his limbs and stands up, reluctantly turning to the door and giving you one last look- which you return with a glare and an aggressive point at the door- before exiting. Leaving in you privacy, finally. Hopefully.

You rush to dry yourself off, praying that he’s taken a hint and left your dorm entirely, and tightly wrap your towel around yourself. You wipe the steam off your mirror and stare at yourself. You thought back to your graduation; your tombstone sitting quietly, waiting patiently for your coffin to one day come be buried and stand as testament to your fight- one that would join thousands of others in the past and future in your sacrafice to try and erradicate the Dissolution that threatened to devour humanity.

Then, you thought of Uvhash; a golem created thousands of years ago for the purpose of bloodshed, never before having experienced human joys and whims- his memories only contain of boring days and nights spent in an arena, chained to his master where his happiest memories were ripping someone apart. You thought of his yellow eyes and the gaping hole in his chest that proudly displayed his heart, one of the most vital organs for a human, out in the open with seemingly no protection. He'd let you get close enough you could reach out and grab it, feel it beat in your palm, but maybe you shouldn't have even stood within arms reah of him, because he seemed to take it as invitation of sorts.

You didn't blame him, per se- not after having seen the moments before his first death- but still, the "gifts" he left at your window and doorstep have become increasingly concerning. At first it was little things like mice and birds, you didn't appreciate them and you told him that many times, but he never seemed to understand, or ignored you entirely. Then, it started being things like finger bones and teeth, at first they were old an ancient, and then they started having bits of rotted flesh and blood still on them.

You started wondering if he would ever leave a body at your door, or maybe you're just crazy. That would make you two a perfect pair, wouldn't it? A thousand year old, blood-loving golem and his human companion who has long since lost their mind due to his antics.

You really wish he would take to human courting customs.

Enough of that, you still have the issue of changing. If only you hadn't left your PJ's out in your room. Why didn’t you bring your pajamas in here with you? Why did you have to leave them out in your room? Then again, you weren’t expecting someone to break in. Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your hand around the cold, metal door knob and opened it.

For a moment, you didn’t notice anything. There was the one lamp you had turned on by the door, illuminating part of your room with warm, yellow light, fending off the shadows that lurked in the corners of your mind, and providing some much needed comfort. Your pajamas were resting on the otomen just a few steps away and Uvhash was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he really did leave. You turn off the bathroom light and delicately step onto the plush carpet to your pajamas, one step, two steps, three steps and your pajamas are right in front of you.

“Are you changing?” Long, white hair falls into your vision as he reaches over to thumb the thin fabric. “It’s soft.” He says curiosuly and picks up the pajama shirt like he's going to inspect it further.

You shudder and snatch the shirt out of his hand, just barely keeping yourself from screaming again. “Can you please-”

“Fine, fine, I’ll turn around. You humans are always so sensitive.”

You bite your lip, some unspeakable emotion roiling in your stomach. You glance behind you, his long white hair covering his back and pooling around his feet like snow. You know Uvhash isn't stupid, despite the opinions others may have because of his more animalistic behavior, and you also know he isn't very familiar with modern human customs- or, human anything beyond what their bodies are made of- but something about this, about what he just said, about his sudden understanding of your want of privacy rubbed you the wrong way. Like maybe he was perfectly aware that hiding in your room like this wasn't acceptable.

"Could you…" He perks up slightly at your voice, invisble muscle shifting benath his transluscent skin. "Could you leave, actually?"

You eye your desk where the case of your key sits quietly, awaiting to be take n on a mission again and a reminder of every Awakener you've met and connected with.

"Going to use that thing again?" There's another shift, one you can't see, but you can feel. The air feels dense, it sits on your skin like a weight, there's a warning in the slight turn of his head, in the stillness of figure.

You bit your lip and slowly, silently, and uncomfortably slip the towel off and put on the silky pajamas. The cool fabric providing little comfort to you as you were accutely reminded of the being behind you.

“Okay.” You mumble, picking up the towel. You toss the towel into the hamper and hesitate for a moment before you reluctantly turn to the golem who is, predictably, watching you again.

"Um," You gesture at nothing, to his indifference. "Do you need something?"

He does nothing for a moment, and then his lips curl into a smile. "No."

You take a breath and nod, not sure what to do or what he wants. You could maybe call Ramona, or Doll, but you'd need to get the communicator first, and then you'd need to turn it on, and then one of them would need to actually pick up at this hour.

You scratch your head roughly. "So, why are you here?"

"I want to spend time with you."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Will you leave once you've done that?"

He considers for a moment, his eyes still never leaving your figure. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" You groan and rub your face before deciding to give up and walk over to your vanity to start your skin care routine and hopefully by then, he'd leave and if not, there is the emergency rope by your bed.

You watch Uvhash come up behind you as you shuffle in your seat, his golden eyes meeting yours in the mirror before moving down to your hands with mild interest. “Lotion?” He scrunches up his nose.

“Yes, Uvhash, do you have opinions on it?” You shoot a glare at him through the mirror, which he misses by a fraction of a second.

“You don’t need that stuff.” He blows a puff of air through his nose.

You ignore him and gather some of it on your fingers and bring it up to your face, but before it could touch your skin, his long, sharp fingers wrap around your wrist and pull it away as he leans in, his voice rumbling against your neck. “I said you don’t need it, it ruins your scent.”

You yank at your hand, trying to pry it out of his iron clad grip. "My scent? I don't care about that! That's not what it's for!"

Maybe he pulled you, or maybe you lost your balance, but either way your back hit his chest and his face was in full view. He doesn't have whites in his eyes, he has red, and sometimes it truly gives him the appearence of a demon. He stares at you for a long, long moment before you feel a finger trace over your jaw and his thumbs absently brush your lips and his voice came in a whisper. "I prefer you like this."

You stare at him in a stupor as his other hand slowly wraps around your throat, tilting your jaw up just enough for his lips to brush over your neck, his hot breath burning your skin as he licks a strip on your skin. He watches you in the mirror as he pushes you forward and your palms press flat against the vanity and he opens his mouth, unusually sharp canines pushing against your skin.

Every other sense seems to dull as more pressure coalesces into two points on your neck, the skin stretching, unwilling to break beneath his teeth and then, with one, small push, the tension breaks and his teeth sink into your flesh and you ease a sigh, relaxing into his grip as his teeth disappear in a budding stream of red that flows down your neck and chest, blossoming on your silken pajamas like spider lilies.

His white hair falls over your shoulders and cloaks over the two of you as your knees tremble and he curls over your slowly sinking figure, letting go of your wrist to instead hold your waist. You can feel his grin against your skin and see the glint in his eye as he watches you in the mirror, like a hunter watching the fawn he’s been wanting finally caught in his trap.

You can feel the heart in his chest beat against you as he pushes his teeth in deeper, drawing more streams of blood as his hand slips under your shirt and cradles a breast, his sharp nails digging in your skin, his hips pressed flush against your ass as a low groan reverberates in his throat.

He'd always said how much he wanted to taste your blood, but in a way it felt too ridiculous to take seriously in spite of his history. After all, this was the campus of Mythag University, plenty of Keepers and Awakeners were here- aside from your graduation day- this place was safe.

Now, as you watch him lick and suck at the freshly made puncture wounds and how you inexpicably find yourself leaning into it, beckoning him to continue with soft sighs and barely concealed little moans, you know you were wrong.

This place isn't a safe haven from harm, and it's not free from beastly whims, but maybe- you shudder as he leaves your neck and his hands slide down- maybe that's alright.

Just for one night.

#unhappy writings #morimens #morimens uvhash #morimens fanfic #morimens yandere #morimens yandere x reader #morimens uvhash x reader #yandere uvhash #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere writer #yandere fanfic #yandere male

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finisnihil · 11 months ago

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Liking Webtoons and wanting to analyze them is such a nightmare because most of their fandom activity is in the comments on the episodes, and a lot of the people there love to start beating characters the minute they're too morally grey/flawed or they're considered threatening to the main ship in any way.

For example, using For My Derelict Favorite, Helios gets dragged way too much at times. Like, I see people make him out to be a purely malicious force who's just as bad as Diana as if it's not emphasized that he acknowledges his feelings are wrong and will never act on them and the main reason why he harbors them is because the subejct of those feelings, Hestia, is way more competent than his wife.

A wife who's refusing to acknowledge nuance or her fading powers out of fear and insecurity and shuts down any attempts at healthy communication he attempts to initiate to the point she chases out the woman who basically raised him when his mother died. He can't rely on her and has basically no support system but he can rely on Hestia and his feelings are more born out of a desire to have somebody close who he can rely on.

The difference between Diana and him is WILDLY big, with Diana chasing out anyone who tries to question her and replacing them with the corrupt temple, choosing to drop her husband the minute he doesn't validate her batshit wild choices. She then decides to go and steal another woman's husband, who she previously condemned to the point of him becoming suicidal, because he defied her strict moral compass. Helios chooses to protect her still because she's his wife and he loves her and doesn't want to give up on her which is an objectively bad move, but he's in an awful position where anything he does will result in some kind of loss.

But I see the comments crawling with complete vilification and ignoring the character's honestly fascinating struggles so they can piss on him for threatening the beloved main ship. I even see some people compare him to WAYYYY worse characters, like Sovieshu from The Remarried Empress, which takes some sort of mental gymnastics as they are only similar to a surface level extent. Sovieshu is unredeemable but Helios is trying and making some bad calls while under pressure along the way.

For another example lets look at Annabel Lee from the amazing comic Nevermore. Everyone in the series is morally grey to some extent and some people will piss on Annabel Lee for being cruel, selfish, etc in such a shallow way. Instead of actually looking at her, a flawed character in a really fucked up situation trying to protect the one she loves at the cost of others, some people just say she's a bitch and want her to be expelled from the narrative for it. We can analyze Annabel Lee and why she’s Like That in so many ways because she's an incredibly dynamic and round character but some people don't care about that they just care she was Super Mean in some way and deem her The Enemy.

I have so many more examples like the fighting in the Jackson's Diary comments about who was the bad guy in a situation where both characters hurt each other in awful ways (I could go on about that for hours and might make a seperate analysis on it) but I think this post is long enough and I don't feel like inciting the possible wrath of any more comic fanbases.

Anyways if you're interested in any of the mentioned comics I encourage you to check them out for yourself!

#Finis analyzes #Webtoon #nevermore webtoon #nevermore webcomic #the remarried empress #for my derelict favorite #Should I even tag Jackson's Diary it barely came up #jackson's diary #Anyways please don't flame me this is just based on what i've noticed #I'm not coming for anyone specific #I'm just talking about a weird phenomenon i've noticed on numerous comics #Actually it kinda reminds me of the Percy Jackson fandom way back when #When people were hostile toward Rachel because she felt threatening to Percabeth #So it's not just a Webtoon thing I just see it on Webtoons the most #Anyways feel free to recommend me some Webtoons if you so desire

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searchingforgravity · 9 months ago

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Graceland Experience - PART 7

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: You have a conversation with Elvis which leads to something he doesn't expect.

TW: kissing, vomiting

Word Count: 1999

A/N: Ah the cliffhanger, there will be more in the next one though! It will be out soon!

You take a deep breath as you prepare to knock on his door. You waited until Sonny had to leave to go on an errand so you could talk to him alone. You raise your hand in a fist reaching to knock.

You can't do it.

Turning to go back to your room, the door to his bedroom opens. You spin back around and he stands there with his arms crossed, his eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"You need somethin' honey? Why are you lingering?"

"Um yes, I do."

There is a long beat as you just stand there looking at him. You feel completely paralyzed. Leaning against his door frame, he takes in your state, sensing your anxiety.

"Is something the matter?"

You swallow.

"Yes."

The palm of his hand travels to his face as he rubs his cheek. He hums, and you see a quick flicker of fear cross his face before he masks it. Another moment goes by as you two look at each other. He clears his throat.

"Well, I can't help you if you don't say anything, can I?" he sighs, feigning irritation but his voice is strained.

Tense.

You release a breath. It's now or never.

"You have my things," you try to say firmly, but it comes out in a whisper.

His face drains of color.

"Ah," he mutters softly.

It seems like he's been waiting for you to confront him about this.

"Yes, I do."

Oh God. Your stomach sinks and it takes all your strength to stay upright. You become light-headed as you try to swallow, but you can't.

"Come here, honey. Sit down," he sighs as he opens his door motioning over to a pair of chairs in the corner of his room.

You enter his room as he shuts the door.

"Elvis, I-what did you find?" your voice is panicked, but that is the last thing on your mind at the moment.

"Honey, just sit down and-" he starts but you cut him off.

"Elvis, if anyone else knows I-oh God, what's going to happen? What did you see?"

You can't catch your breath.

"(Y/N)! I'm not gonna say it again. Sit. Down."

Your eyes snap up to his at his insistence. You mutter out an 'okay' and you sit down.

"Good. Good," he sighs, his hand threading through his hair. "Now, I'm gonna need you to tell me I'm not crazy."

---

He lays it out in front of you, and you have to will yourself not to puke.

It's everything.

Your wallet, ID (with the year you were born and expiration date), even your cell phone. You are at a complete loss for words as you look up at him. His eyes connect with yours.

"Honey, I'm gonna need to to tell me I'm not crazy in about 2 seconds, because I'm this close to losin' my Goddamn mind," he breathes, fear in his voice.

"I don't know what to say."

It's a lame response, but it's the truth.

"What to say? What the hell is all this?!"

"Well...what does it look like?"

He steps back as he turns away from you, a laugh escaping him in disbelief as his hand comes to cover his mouth.

"No. That isn't possible," he mutters.

"Why do you think I freaked out when I woke up here! I didn't think it was either. I-."

You don't know what else to say. You look at Elvis and he looks unwell. He's as white as a ghost. He looks like he's going to- oh God. Running to the bathroom and grabbing his trash can as you hear him groan, sitting on one of the chairs. You get to him just in time as he hurls into the trash can, grasping onto your shoulder to keep from falling over. You have to steady yourself to keep from stumbling over.

"I was really hoping you would say it was a joke," he gasps after spitting in the trash.

You chuckle at the irony of the situation, deja vu hitting you hard as you were in this position not too long ago.

"I wish it was," you say sincerely.

He groans as you imagine his stomach turning.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I'm gonna need you to leave my room. I can't-" he starts, pausing, thinking.

"I'll talk to you later, I just can't do this right now."

Your heart sinks, although it frightened you to learn that he knew your secret, it is relieving to be able to share it with someone.

"Okay," you mutter, placing the can down in front of him.

He grabs your hand before you can get up from kneeling on the floor. A shock wave runs throughout your body as you look up at him.

"I'm really sorry honey, I just need to rest. I feel like- God I feel crazy," he apologizes, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

You bring your free hand to hold his in both of yours, massaging his knuckles in small circles.

"I know, I'm sorry too, the feeling will pass. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

You release his hand and walk to the door, opening it gently before closing it behind you. When you approach your room, you close it before going to your own chair, letting your face fall in your hands.

---

"Jer, can you pass over the salt," Elvis mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you as you look across the table at him.

It is tearing you up inside. It's been two days since you spoke to him in his room and he has been ignoring you ever since. He won't even look at you.

"Yeah, here you go, E," Jerry responds as he hands it over.

You pick at your food, you haven't had much of an appetite lately. Elvis has told everyone that he was feeling a little under the weather after you two spoke, and has barely left his room.

"Hey, (Y/N), I got you something while I was out and about yesterday, for your books," Sonny says, having learned your name when you told him and Jerry you remembered it.

You figured they couldn't do much with just a first name. Your attention is pulled away from Elvis' sullen face.

This grabs Elvis' attention too.

"Uh, it's not much but, well here ya go," he fumbles, holding out an intricate bookmark, with a beautiful swirling design of gold.

It's very nice. You take it from his hand.

"Thank you Sonny, this is very nice. I love it," you say, turning it over to see the same design on the back.

It's heavy, a metal bookmark, so it doesn't fade. You look up at him and his cheeks are rosy, a bashful grin on his face.

Oh. Oh.

"Well, I saw it and thought of ya. Thought you might like it," he muses before quickly going back to his meal.

Your cheeks flush as you tuck the bookmark under your leg. Does Sonny...like you?

You hear Elvis clear his throat and look up. Your eyes finally connect with his after two excruciating days of him acting like you don't exist. And his gaze is piercing through you. He looks pissed. He then glances over to Sonny who is smiling like he just won a million dollars. Suddenly, his chair scrapes against the floor. Everyone else turns their attention to him.

"I'm not feeling’ so well anymore. I'm goin' to my room," he mumbles, not breaking eye contact with you until he turns to trudge up the stairs.

"What crawled up his ass?," Sonny mumbles, as he looks back down to his breakfast.

You hum in acknowledgement as you wonder the same thing.

---

You sit up in bed pulling the covers over you in your room looking towards your closed door. It's about 10:30 P.M. and Elvis stayed in his room ever since breakfast. He didn't even come down for dinner. You want to knock on his door and speak with him, finally talk to him after two days of radio silence, but you feel like he wouldn't want that. You relax back into the chair as you open up Sound of Thunder again. You've read pretty far into the book and are getting into the part where the main character, Eckles, is learning the importance of the butterfly effect by his travel guide, Travis.

“All right,” Travis continued, “say we accidentally kill one mouse here. That means all the future families of this one particular mouse are destroyed, right?” “Right.” “And all the families of the families of the families of that one mouse! With a stamp of your foot, you annihilate first one, then a dozen, then a thousand, a million, a billion possible mice!”

Travis goes onto explain that just one simple action done in the past can alter the course of the world itself. You look back to your closed door. Could Elvis knowing about you change things? From him just knowing, would the course of history be affected? Your stomach starts to churn at the possibility. You hope not. You turn back to the book as your eyes start to get heavy.

---

You can't breathe. The hands around your neck are squeezing so tight you feel all the blood rush to your face. You try to yell out but you can't. You can't move. Elvis' eyes gleam as tears stream down his face, Salty droplets falling onto your own. You grab onto his hands, trying to will him to stop.

"Why are you back?! Why did you come back!" the shaky laboured breath calls from above you, but it sounds so far away.

Lurching up in bed, you scream. And scream. You clutch the sheets to your chest as labored breaths escape your lips. You are covered in sweat. Suddenly the door surges open. The light flicks on.

"What! What's goin' on?"

You expect to see Sonny on the other end of the door, but Elvis stands there, concern written all over his face. With the speed of which he arrives, it's as if he was already awake as he stands in just his pajama pants, no shirt.

You hide your face in the sheets.

"Stay away from me!"

It's the nightmare talking, you know, but your body is riddled with fear. You shake uncontrollably as sobs escape you.

"Hey," a gentle voice calls from beside you, a hand resting on your shoulder.

You shrink at the touch.

"Don't hurt me! I'll leave I promise, I just-"

"(Y/N) calm down, you're alright. I won't hurt you, baby. I won't hurt you," He whispers.

Then, hesitantly, he breathes, "Don't leave."

In the midst of your panic, your heart flutters.

You feel his hand thread through your hair as he pulls you into his arms, rocking back and forth.

"No one's gonna hurt you, sweet heart," he repeats, his lips coming to your forehead, lingering.

You cling to him as you try to calm your breathing. You then realize what position you're in. You are in his arms. His warm body encasing you.

"I'm sorry, I had a nightmare" you croak, starting to pull away from him.

The hand stroking your hair suddenly sinks deeper until it reaches your scalp. Before you know what's happening, you feel him draw your mouth to his, your lips connecting.

You're frozen. Your mind races. You feel him start to move his mouth on yours before realizing you aren't responding to the kiss.

He pulls away.

"Was that okay?" he whispers, in the softest, tenderest voice you've ever heard.

You don't respond, your mind is so jumbled, you don't know how to respond. You want to say yes, but your mind keeps going back to the book you fell asleep reading. the butterfly effect.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, embarrassment in his voice as he moves to release you.

You grab his hand to keep him in place.

"I don't want you to leave."

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@horrorgirl4life @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @sissylittlefeather @father-of-2cats @goldobsessionsworld @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted

#elvis imagine #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis the pelvis #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #elvis fanfic #elvis fans #graceland

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