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roosterforme · 11 months ago

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Always Ever Only You Part 30 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley's excitement over the first set of ultrasound photos is unparalleled. He has never been so happy and so overwhelmed in his life, but at times he feels ill equipped to process everything that's happening. And the last thing he wants is to make you feel like he's growing tired of you.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, pregnancy topics, doctors, angst, fluff

Length: 6600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley wanted to be able to explain it to you, but he wasn't really sure he could. Sitting in the waiting room with you and anticipating an ultrasound to see the baby was honestly more than he ever thought he could have. You were more than he ever thought he deserved, and you wanted him anyway. But a baby?

He barely had a baseline to build off of. His dad died when he was young enough that he only had a handful of fleeting memories. The sound of a laugh. Two big hands lifting him up when he fell. A lullaby sung softly as he drifted off to sleep. Besides the photos that you and he collected from his storage unit and the stories his mom recounted when he was younger, that's all he had.

But he could practically hear his mom telling him how excited Nick Bradshaw was to be a dad. Bradley could remember the joy in her voice whenever she told him about the way she would catch father and son goofing off together. She was adamant that Bradley cried almost nonstop the first day his dad was gone for a deployment. And now Bradley desperately wished he could remember these little details that made up their relationship. Because soon, god willing, he was going to be on the other side of things: the parent who loves goofing off and singing, but who also gets deployed and causes tears to fall.

It was all too overwhelming for him to put into words, but as he laced his fingers with yours, he knew he didn't have to figure out how to do everything all at once.

"Are you nervous?" you asked.

Bradley looked at your open expression and immediately felt better. Talking through things and sharing his thoughts was the best way to keep from driving himself crazy while also letting you know how important you were. "Excited," he replied, kissing your cheek and ear. "Just really fucking excited. I've been thinking... about starting a notebook. Kind of for the baby? Like how sometimes I like to write down what I'm thinking and feeling for myself."

He still felt silly at times for sharing the notebooks with you, but you nodded with a little smile on your lips. "I love your deployment notebooks. I love what you wrote about me."

He reached for you and kissed you without hesitation. "I think I want the baby to be able to read about how much I was looking forward to meeting them. When they're older, I mean. They can read about how I feel like my heart is going to pound out of my chest right now. And how I can't wait to hold them and give them a name. All about how much I love their mom."

Bradley let you bury your face against his neck. It didn't feel like you were hiding from him so much as giving him a taste of the kind of response he'd get if the two of you were alone. "I like that idea." You kissed the side of his neck and said, "I adore you, Roo. You'll be the best daddy."

Bradley almost laughed when you jolted in your seat after the nurse called your name. "Come on back, you two," she said with a smile. "Hopefully mom and dad can leave with some new family photos."

"Holy shit," Bradley replied, palms suddenly sweaty. Baby photos. He was on his feet in an instant, ready to go. And maybe this was what his dad felt like. Perhaps his parents didn't know what they were doing either, but rather they just counted themselves lucky to go along for the ride. He wished one of them had left him a notebook.

You were smiling up at him as he reached for your hand again, and your fingers felt sure and steady all wrapped up with his. "I'm excited, too," you whispered, answering your own question from earlier while he ran his thumb along your rings. "And maybe a little nervous."

"I'm right here," he promised as the two of you followed the nurse into a room filled with equipment. "I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed you and then begrudgingly let go of your hand when the nurse gave you a hospital gown to change into. As she left the room with the promise that your doctor would be in shortly, Bradley dragged his palms across his khaki covered thighs as he sat down and watched you change. Even though you were suffering from near constant nausea, he thought you looked incredible. Your face was glowing, and you kept looking at him with adoration in your eyes.

"Jesus," he grunted when you removed your bra. Was it possible that today he was the hornier one for once? "Sweetheart. Your tits," he whispered as he ran a hand over his face while you giggled. "Unreal." Then your underwear went sliding down your legs, and he reached down to help you out of them. "Hand me the gown," he told you as he folded your underwear across his knee.

You slipped into the gown when he held it open for you, and then you stood between his legs while he secured the ties and kissed you through the fabric. Your laughter filled the small room, and when the doctor walked in, she found you sitting on Bradley's lap while he ran his knuckles gently across your belly.

"I'm Dr. Morris," she said, shaking hands with you as you stood and then reaching for Bradley's. "I love it when partners show up for appointments, too. It's a lot more fun."

He watched Dr. Morris help you up onto the table, immediately missing your warm body next to his. "I plan on being here for every appointment unless I'm deployed." Your smile faltered a little bit at his words, so he added, "And even then, I'd steal a jet and fly in for a few hours. This is that important to me."

Your smile was restored and then some. Bradley scooted the chair a little closer when you reached for his hand as Dr. Morris started to ask you some questions and enter them into the software. "Do you recall when you last menstruated? I'd like to calculate a due date assuming we find a healthy fetus."

Once you told her the date of your last period, Bradley blurted out, "Why wouldn't it be healthy?"

Now he had two pairs of eyes on him as you squeezed his sweaty hand. "It's very early," Dr. Morris said. "Complications are more likely to occur in the first trimester than in the second or third. And your wife is just between seven and eight weeks along based on her cycle."

"Oh," Bradley said, swallowing hard. You'd tried to tell him all of this information before, letting him know it was too early to inform your parents or Nat or any of your other friends. But it felt somehow wrong coming from someone else. He didn't like this information when it was laid out before him in the exam room.

"It's okay, Roo," you told him, a sweet smile still on your face. So he nodded and watched your lips and the curve of your cheek as you answered a few more questions and asked about prenatal vitamins.

Then eventually Dr. Morris said the only words Bradley really wanted to hear right now. "Let's see what we can find with the ultrasound."

He was sitting on the edge of his seat, elbow leaning on the exam table as he gripped your hand for dear life. As excited as he'd been, now he was on the verge of being sick. What if he'd been too rough with you in bed? What if the football at the beach really did hit you in the wrong spot? What if all of the vomiting had been worse than either of you considered?

One thing was for certain. Bradley was going to love you no matter what, until his dying day. So he held onto your hand and kissed your knuckles as Dr. Morris squeezed lube onto a wand that looked a bit like one of the vibrators you had at home. "Is that for the ultrasound?" he asked, watching you spread your legs wider.

"Yes," the doctor replied, and a huge computer monitor lit up. "We need to get really up close at this stage to be able to see anything, so we're doing a transvaginal ultrasound today. The ones you're thinking of that use a paddle on the belly will come later."

"Right," he replied, and as soon as she slipped the wand inside you, he watched you purse your lips in slight discomfort. "You okay, Sweetheart?" he whispered, eyes glued to your face for any sign of pain. But your pinched expression melted away, and your lips parted softly as you sighed and stared at the computer monitor.

"Oh. Oh, Bradley! Look!"

When he turned toward the screen, he slowly stood as you pulled his hand closer to your body and held it with both of yours. Everything looked a little fuzzy at first, just some gray and black shapes. But then a cute little bean started to take shape as Dr. Morris adjusted the wand, and Bradley rasped, "Is that the baby?"

"Yes," she replied evenly, also watching the monitor. "And everything looks great."

Warmth spread through his entire body as Bradley huffed out a laugh while you giggled. He wasn't sure if his hand was shaking or if it was yours, but he leaned down and kissed your wrists before finding your lips with his. "That's our baby," he whispered, kissing you once more.

"It's adorable," you said, smiling nonstop. "Like a little bean, or a chicken nugget."

Bradley leaned on the table, keeping as close to you as he could. "I'm already so in love." He could feel tears in his eyes as Dr. Morris froze the screen. "Is it over?" he asked in a slight panic. In all honesty, he could happily spend the rest of the day right here with you and the baby, and he wasn't prepared to say goodbye yet.

"Just capturing some images," she reassured him. "Baby's first picture."

"Oh my god," Bradley groaned softly, and you ran your fingers through his hair as he ducked his head against your shoulder. "That's the first picture, Baby Girl."

"The baby looks just like you, Roo," you told him with a laugh, and he kissed you until the doctor cleared her throat.

"Let's see what we can find if we zoom in a little more."

With rapt attention once again, Bradley stared at the screen. It looked like the baby was bouncing around a bit, wiggling to an unknown song. "Is that movement good?" he asked. "And what's that little flickering spot?"

"Very good," she replied. "And the flickering is the heartbeat."

"The heartbeat?" That was inexplicably what threw him over the edge as a tear managed to squeeze its way down his cheek when he blinked. "Holy shit."

He just let his head rest against your chest and basked in the feel of your fingers in his hair as you whispered, "I love you." Bradley had no idea if you were talking to him or the baby. Or maybe both. Or maybe you loved Dr. Morris, because in this moment he certainly did as she snapped more photos. Maybe you loved everything right now just like he did.

"I love you, too."

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

Bradley was falling apart as you ran your fingertips along his scarred cheek. Or perhaps he was completely keeping it together. You weren't really sure. He had some tears in his eyes even though he was smiling, and the two of you were holding onto each other.

"Do you want to listen to the heartbeat as well?" Dr. Morris asked, and the two of you responded at the same time.

"Yes!"

She laughed and adjusted the ultrasound wand inside you which was actually extremely uncomfortable, but you were starting to think Bradley would cry harder when she removed it. And then you heard it. Dr. Morris adjusted something on the control panel, and set a device on your belly, and you could hear the heartbeat.

"Why is it so fast?" Bradley asked, squeezing your hand. "That's like really fast."

Now your heartbeat was picking up, but Dr. Morris said, "One hundred and fifty two beats per minute. That's perfectly where it should be."

"Oh, okay," Bradley sighed, eyes transfixed on the monitor. "That's good then. That's a strong Bradshaw heartbeat right there. Can you take another picture? The nugget looks really cute like that."

You laughed and reached for him when she eventually shut off the equipment and removed the wand. At Bradley's request, she printed out enough copies of each image that you'd be able to give them to your parents, all of your friends and even Bradley's cousin Brenda in Virginia.

"This seems like overkill," you whispered as the printer just kept going and going.

"It's not," he promised. "I need all of them to wallpaper my locker and fill my helmet bag. Just a bunch of pictures of you and now the baby, too."

"We'll get more ultrasound photos at the next appointment. And the next one after that," you reminded him.

"Good. We'll have enough to wallpaper at home, too." Eased himself back down into the chair as you sat up a little bit while Dr. Morris cleaned up her workstation.

"When is the due date?" you asked suddenly.

"March 24th," she replied, and you and Bradley shared a smile. "Do either of you have any other questions for me?" she asked as she handed a massive stack of ultrasound photos to your husband who looked like he just won the lottery.

"When can we find out if it's a girl or a boy?" he asked, looking through the images with a crooked little grin on his face.

"In the second trimester," she assured him. "You'll make a special appointment for an anatomy scan."

You cleared your throat and said, "So... I've been really quite... I'm sure it's the hormones and everything, but I've been extremely aroused for the past few weeks." Bradley gave you a wide eyed look as you asked, "Basically, I want my husband around the clock right now, and I want to know if that's normal?"

He let out a strangled choking sound, and his cheeks started to flush pink as Dr. Morris said, "That's totally normal. Have at it."

You pressed your lips together before you quickly asked, "And rough is okay? Like pretty rough."

"Yep," she replied, completely unfazed by your words as Bradley looked like he wanted to run out of the room with his stack of baby pictures. "Anything else?"

A smile crept to your lips, one that Bradley would have probably found alarming if he were looking anywhere else except the door at the moment. "Actually, yes. I do have one more question for you, Dr. Morris. Based on the size of the baby and the date of my last period, can you tell me when you think the baby was conceived?"

"Sure," she replied, turning the monitor back on and scrolling through all of the information in your electronic file.

"You did not just ask her that," Bradley whispered, his voice deep with annoyance and maybe a little bit of desire as you grinned at him and bit your lip.

"I would say you probably conceived right around June 27th."

You squealed with delight as Bradley groaned. "Thank you so much, Dr. Morris. We'll see you again in a few weeks."

When she left the room, you hopped off the table and started to untie your gown, pausing to pump your fist in the air while Bradley held his forehead in his hand. "Okay, okay. You win," he whined as he laughed. "You win."

"I told you the baby was conceived in the Honda!"

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

Later that night, Bradley kept reminding himself that Dr. Morris said rough sex was okay. That seemed to be the only way you wanted it as you got on all fours on the bed and said, "Fuck me hard, Daddy." And Bradley was never going to be one to deny his wife anything she asked for.

Beads of sweat were rolling down his face, occasionally dripping onto your back as he leaned over you. He was panting next to your ear as he went as hard as he could, fucking you until your knees buckled and he had to hold you up. "You know, I used to have a wife who liked it sweet sometimes. I wonder what happened to her?"

"You knocked her up," you gasped as he rubbed your clit with his fingers.

Fuck, he was getting close, and your words were not helping in the least. "Come on, Baby Girl. Come for Daddy."

A few more swipes of his fingers and a little more dirty talk, and you were coming. Holy hell, you were coming hard, which was a good thing, because Bradley needed a break. You released an unholy moan as your legs gave out again, and this time, he let you sink down to the bed as he grabbed his cock in time to come all over your ass and your back.

"Roo," you gasped as he painted you up, and you met his eyes over your shoulder. "That's so fucking hot!"

"I'm glad you think so," he grunted before he sprawled out on the bed next to you on his back. "I got nothing left in the tank, Sweetheart. Do not ask me for more tonight."

You crawled over to kiss his sweaty face and whispered, "You did so good," as you patted his abs adoringly. "You're already the world's best Daddy." Then you leaned down and cleaned his cum from the head of his cock with your tongue, and Bradley moaned as you climbed out of bed. "I'm going to shower and get ready for bed."

He raised his hand in a wave or surrender, he wasn't quite sure which. Forty-five minutes of nailing you until you screamed his name was the most intense workout he'd had in weeks. He needed to hit his home gym in the garage a little harder. Maybe he could invite Jake over to lift weights with him, and then he could sneak away and take a nap while you and Jake had one of your gossip sessions. That actually sounded pretty great.

Bradley managed to get out of bed long enough to let Tramp out and brush his teeth. By that point, you were getting out of the shower and drying yourself off, humming and sighing softly.

"I know what you're trying to do," he said with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "And it's not gonna work."

You looked at him with one eyebrow raised as you ran the towel across your chest. "I'm sorry. What exactly am I trying to do that's not going to work?"

He spit out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, sending a glare at you in the mirror. "Look at your fucking tits, Sweetheart. Now you're just flaunting them."

"I'm literally just standing here."

He shook his head and kissed your forehead as he walked past. "You know what you did."

When you slipped in bed next to him, he pulled you close while you laughed softly. You were wearing nothing except for his old UVA shirt, and when you curled up next to him, he pushed you gently onto your back. Then he yanked the shirt up and shimmied under the covers so his lips were next to your tummy.

He kissed up and down your side before laying with his cheek on your hip and one hand on your belly. "Listen kid, I don't know what you're doing in there, but I need you to chill, okay? Someday soon, you'll get to see how pretty and perfect your mommy is. Yes, I think about her all day long. Yes, I love her, but I can only take so much. Your old man is an old man."

You lifted up the covers, and Bradley felt your fingers in his hair. "No, you're not."

He kissed the spot just below your belly button before returning to his pillow. "I'll be close to thirty-eight when this little nugget arrives."

"That's not old."

When you curled up on him this time, he collected you in his arms. If you were surprised by his words, you didn't let on. "My dad died when he was twenty-nine. My mom died when she was forty-two. You're a bit younger than me, not that I mind. But my age is something I think about a lot. I'm older than all my friends. I like to be prepared for things before I jump into them. I like to feel out my surroundings. Except when it comes to you, apparently."

You snuggled in a little closer, voice soft as you asked, "What do you mean?"

Bradley kissed your fingers before lacing them with his in the dark bedroom. "I was all in with you as soon as you looked at me. Zero hesitation. No turning back."

You buried your face in his chest and moaned. "You can't just talk about me like that. It makes me insane for you," came your muffled voice, and Bradley laughed.

"I guess I never had any hesitation about us having kids either. And I'm just saying... it's nice to have time to think about the baby before the baby actually gets here. But I'm also in my head a lot right now about my parents and how much more flying I've got left in me and how I don't actually know how the fuck to take care of a baby."

"Bradley!" Your voice was scolding as you propped yourself up on him. "We're a team. And I wouldn't lie to you. You're not old, and I'm pretty sure nobody actually knows how to take care of a baby until they have one in front of them. Then you just kind of do it, I guess. The fact that you are so excited about this pregnancy is at least half of what's turning me on so much. You will be the best dad imaginable, because you love me so well, and I don't doubt you have more of that to give."

He was exhausted, and your words settled over him like something he could physically feel. "I really am so excited. Today felt like a dream. I just want to cover the whole house in the ultrasound photos, and I can't wait to get another smaller paper airplane tattoo."

He felt your fingers trace his tattoo in the darkness. You knew exactly where it was without guidance just like he knew exactly where yours was. "You'll get it right here? With the baby's name on it?"

"Yeah," he whispered, starting to feel like he was going to doze off.

"I have a question," you said, and he squeezed your hand softly. "Earlier you asked when we can find out if it's a boy or a girl."

He smiled at the hesitation in your voice. "What's your question?"

Bradley could feel your heartbeat against his body, and he thought about how he had been able to see and hear what the baby was doing just a few hours ago. The beautiful sound of that rapid heartbeat that belonged to his child.

"Do you care? If it's a boy or a girl?"

"No," he answered honestly. "Not one bit. I just care that it's ours."

"Me too. I'm happy either way." Your words sounded soft and dreamy, and he believed them.

"I love you both. Now let the old man sleep."

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

The rest of the week felt like a bit of a reality check. You tried taking the prenatal vitamins from Dr. Morris, but you threw them back up almost instantly every single time. "Just skip them," Bradley said on Friday morning as you threw up in the toilet when you were trying to get dressed for work.

"I can't," you practically wailed. "They are supposed to keep me healthy so I can keep the baby healthy." You looked up at him from where you were sitting on the floor.

He sighed and checked the time. "Why don't you just stay home today? You're looking pretty green, and it's Friday anyway. Text Bickel."

Anger flared inside you. He was standing there looking nice and tidy in his khakis while you were on the floor turning yours into a wrinkly mess. And the reason for that was the fact that you had to deal with all of this shit. He just got to enjoy your libido while being excited about the baby. You really didn't want to start resenting him right now when you were leaving for Maryland soon.

"I can't just skip work on a whim like what I'm doing isn't important," you snapped. "I'm trying to get my presentation ready for Annapolis, in case you forgot you offered to help me with that."

He was on his knees in an instant with your chin in his hand. "Hey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want you overexerting yourself, especially since your work is important and you'll be traveling soon."

You still felt bitchy, even though he made you peanut butter crackers and took Tramp for a walk while you stayed curled up in bed for an extra twenty minutes. "That's right. I'll be gone for a week. I'm sure you're looking forward to having a break from the near constant sex."

You used the vanity to pull yourself to your feet while your stomach lurched, even though he was holding his hand out to help you. "Look at me," he demanded without touching you at all. You didn't want to, but you shifted your gaze to his face as he stood too. "If you really think that's true, then we have a serious problem. I'm going to assume that you feel the need to take your nausea out on me, and that's fine. I don't really mind. That's what I'm here for. But do not accuse me of ever wanting to be separated from you."

You pressed your lips together and just nodded as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. You didn't want to be away from him either, but you felt another wave of sickness rolling through your body.

"I need to go, Sweetheart. I'll stop and get you some of those ginger pills on my way home. Maybe they'll help. I love you."

After he left, you threw up again and fought the urge to throw the bottle of prenatal vitamins across the bathroom. Even now you were horny enough that you considered climbing back in bed with your vibrator to take the edge off, but you knew nothing would be as good as the real thing. And you'd have to apologize to Bradley before you could have that, and it would undoubtedly make you cry when you did.

When you finally made your way back out to the kitchen, you found more peanut butter crackers arranged on a plate in the shape of a heart with one of the ultrasound photos next to it. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you tried to call your husband, but it went to voicemail. You listened to his raspy voice before ending the call and texting him instead.

I'm sorry. If you want Marry Me Rooster for dinner, pick up some chicken along with the ginger pills.

After you tucked the ultrasound picture in the new Bronco, you spent your whole morning sitting quietly with Cat, the two of you going over each presentation slide with a fine tooth comb. "Is that calculation correct?" she asked, pulling out a calculator.

"It fucking better be. I did it myself. Months ago."

She looked at you with wide eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you lied, anxious that Bradley hadn't responded to your text. Two days ago, you were having the absolute time of your life with Dr. Morris, and now you wanted to scream. "Can we just finish this?" you said through gritted teeth as Cat checked your math which was obviously done correctly.

"That's what we're working on," she said smoothly, using her mom voice on you and making your nerves prickle. "Finishing the slides so we can spend next week practicing and getting our notes in order for all of these meetings and cocktail receptions."

The last thing you wanted to do right now was pretend you were drinking alcohol while trying not to vomit. Nothing about this trip to Annapolis seemed appealing. And you didn't want to have to try to hide your pregnancy from your parents if you drove to see them one night.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Cat asked, and you had to steel your spine as you nodded.

"I'm perfect." There was no point in making her mad at you when the two of you would be in close quarters for several days, so you rolled your shoulders and got back to work.

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

Asking Jake if he wanted to workout actually wasn't the best idea Bradley had come up with recently. It would be nice to have someone to spot for him at the weight bench, but if you were making his favorite dinner, he'd rather spend the time with you.

"Fuck," he groaned as Jake followed him to the grocery store on his way home. Apparently he needed protein powder and didn't mind that Bradley had to stop for chicken. Of course now he had to try to discreetly grab the ginger pills that you wanted to try for your nausea.

It ended up being easier than he thought since Jake took fifteen minutes to decide which flavor of protein powder he wanted. He was still looking at them when Bradley went back to that aisle. "Are you almost done?"

Jake shot him a nasty look from where he was squatting at the bottom shelf. "Listen, it would go faster if I didn't get hit on constantly when I'm wearing my uniform."

Bradley rolled his eyes so hard, he was afraid he'd get a migraine. "Keep it in your fucking pants. I'll meet you at my house."

Jake grabbed a container and followed him to the registers. When they passed a hot sauce display, he grabbed one and handed it to Bradley. "Get this for Angel, and maybe you'll get laid. Sounds like you need it."

"It's literally the last thing I need," he mumbled, but paid for it anyway along with the ginger and the chicken. When Bradley slid his credit card back in his wallet, he saw the corner of the ultrasound image he had tucked in there last night. He unfolded it and took a peek as Jake paid for his powder. You were everything. And the baby was everything. And he should have been a little more patient with you this morning.

"You coming?" Jake asked, and Bradley shoved the nugget photo back inside his wallet before slipping it into his pocket.

You were already home, and Bradley parked the blue Bronco next to the red one. Jake came careening into the driveway, stopping about two inches from the back of the new Bronco. "Show her a little respect, okay?"

Jake snorted as he climbed out. "You literally fucked the other car to bits. I didn't do shit."

Bradley groaned as he walked inside with Jake on his heels. The first thing he saw was you in the kitchen, feeding Tramp a treat. You had on some skin tight yoga pants and a little shirt without a bra, and you turned to him and said, "Can we talk?" He opened his mouth to tell you that you could have any damn thing you wanted, and then you said, "Hi, Jake," with a look of surprise on your face. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Hey, Angel," Jake crooned, walking into the kitchen and pulling you in for a tight hug. Shit, Bradley forgot to text you and let you know he wasn't going to be alone. "Didn't see you at lunch today."

"I worked through lunch," you replied, your eyes on Bradley. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Nah, just going to lift weights out in the garage with Rooster for a bit. I'll be out of your hair after that."

"You can stay if you want," you told him, but he was already heading toward the hallway bathroom with his gym bag. "Why didn't you tell me he was coming over?" you whispered. "I'm not even wearing underwear, and you left one of the ultrasound photos on the fridge."

Bradley quickly pulled it down and stuck it in the freezer on his way to get to you. "I'm sorry. I meant to text you, but then I got in the Bronco and forgot." Tears welled up in your eyes; he should be used to this by now, but he was not. "If you're horny, I'll take care of you as soon as Jake leaves."

You scoffed at him. "It's not that. I don't just want that. I wanted to talk. You're not just a gigantic, walking dick to me."

Jake cleared his throat, and you and Bradley both turned to see him standing there in his gym clothes. "I'll meet you out in the garage," he said with a smirk. "Take your time."

"I'll just be a minute," Bradley called over his shoulder, but you'd already started to open the chicken he set on the counter. "Do you want to talk now?"

"No." Great. You were giving him one word answers now.

"Would you like me to get changed and get out of your hair?"

"Yes."

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

As soon as Bradley walked through the sliding glass door and headed for the garage, you broke out in tears. What the fuck was your problem? You didn't mind if Jake was here or if he stayed for dinner. You didn't want to completely discourage Bradley from hanging up the nugget photo. You just couldn't control your emotions, and you had zero patience today. And you couldn't stop running to the bathroom to pee.

You decided to fill up some travel mugs with water and take them out to the guys to smooth things over. Tramp ran around in the grass as you walked across the yard, and you could already hear the two of them talking over their playlist as you approached the doorway.

"Is Angel's ass bigger now?" Jake asked, pointing to the dirty calendar that Bradley hung on the wall and strategically covered part of with a post-it note.

Your husband shook his head. "Stop staring at my calendar," he replied as he added weight to one side of the bar. "And stop talking about my wife's ass."

"She's in a feisty mood today. You probably didn't even need that hot sauce to get laid, old man." Based on Jake's response, you were pretty sure neither of them had seen you in the doorway yet as you stood there awkwardly.

Bradley's brow creased. "She's been a real handful, actually."

Jake hooted with laughter. "In the bedroom? Never mind, I don't want to know."

It took Bradley a few seconds to respond. "Can we talk about anything else other than my wife? Please? Literally any other topic would be great."

You turned on your heel and carried the waters back toward the house as soon as you heard Jake say, "Speaking of asses, you know who has a great one..."

They were out there for a full hour. You made what turned out to be perhaps the most incredible looking batch of Marry Me Rooster of your life while you stewed. Even your husband was already sick of you. Soon you'd gain so much pregnancy weight, your ass would probably be enormous. He'd probably have to close his eyes just to have sex with you.

You froze as you were putting the chicken onto a plate. What if he couldn't stand the sight of you with a belly at all? All stretched out and weird? Bradley had probably glorified it in his mind, but you knew it wasn't going to be all that appealing when you were nine months along in the middle of March with stretch marks galore. You were already bloated enough that Jake noticed.

You were turning and looking down at your body when they both came walking back inside, out of breath. "Smells good in here. Are these for us?" Bradley asked, pointing at the waters on the island.

"Yes," you whispered, afraid to meet his eyes. As soon as you heard his voice, you were horny again, but you didn't want to keep forcing him to have sex with you just because you couldn't help yourself.

Jake kissed you on the cheek, and when you told him he was welcome to stay for dinner, he said, "I'll take a raincheck. See you for golf on Sunday, Rooster," and headed out to his car.

"Do you think you can eat dinner?" Bradley asked you softly. When you turned away from him and nodded, he said, "You didn't have to wait for me if you were hungry. Do you want me to shower first?"

You burst into tears once again. "I don't know if I'm hungry. I don't ever know. Sometimes I just grow up. And I can't stop fucking crying! And I don't want you to be so sick of me that you'd rather talk about literally anything else with Jake, including someone else's ass."

"Whoa, whoa," he said quietly, spinning you around again. "I don't want to talk about anything else besides you, Sweetheart."

You shook your head and covered your eyes with your hands. "I tried to bring the waters outside. I heard you."

When you were pulled snug against his sweaty shirt, you felt slightly better. "Baby Girl. I was not about to get into a conversation with Jake about how I can barely keep up with you in bed. In order to keep my pride intact, I would at least want him to know you're pregnant if I'm admitting that you're wearing me out." He kissed the top of your head over and over.

"It feels like you're getting sick of me," you sobbed softly. "And you brought me hot sauce even though I can't eat it right now, and that made me so sad."

"I couldn't be less sick of you if I tried. I just needed to keep Jake off my back rather than let slip that you're pregnant, so I got the hot sauce. And it's completely my fault I forgot to tell you he was coming over, but I had a lot on my mind today."

"Like what?" you asked, inhaling how delicious he smelled even compared to the dinner you made.

"Like possible baby names and the look and feel of your pussy when I fuck you. Do you need me right now? Because I'm ready to go when you want me."

"So badly," you squeaked. "I'm sorry, Roo."

"Don't ever apologize again for wanting to have sex with me. I will be the one to apologize if I don't last as long as you need me to."

You nodded against him. "Well then I'll apologize for having a bad attitude."

"Do you need me to fuck the attitude out of you?"

"Yes, sir."

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

Imagine how excited he'll be holding that baby in his beefy arms. Just stay calm, sweet Roo. The hormones won't last forever. Up next, we're going to Annapolis. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 31

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

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lets-try-some-writing · 2 months ago

Note

I wonder what was Mars reaction to humans sending him rovers the first time. i imagine Earth probably warned him in advance that humans planned on sending him something (Sojourner was the first sent if i believe correctly) and he knowing what humans are like prepared for the worst definitely

Mars: I really hope this thing won't infect me with anything..

Sojourner: *beeps*

Mars:

Sojourner:*starts collecting rocks*

Mars:

Moon: Earth asks if you're al- *senses Mars em field*Are you crying??

Mars: *deep in fatherhood*No *he is*

This is adorable and it deserves a mini fic. Enjoy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mars always told himself he didn’t mind the solitude. He was near his brother and close enough to Mortus—or rather Pluto—to feel content with himself. Sometimes Halley came to visit, which was always a pleasant surprise. It was not often someone immune to the rust corroding him happened to be both nearby and actually interested in communication. Earth was certainly nice enough, and Mars eagerly awaited her every message when she saw fit to reach out to him or use Moon as a proxy.

Moon. Mars. Pluto. He would never fully adjust to the new names given to them by his brother’s beloved Terra. Personally, he preferred his Cybertronian name, but he would never dare say as such aloud. Mortus didn’t care, and Fengari, his elder brother, would be prone to lash out if Mars ever voiced his objection to his new name. Not only that, but he wasn’t keen on making Terra upset.

How many vorns had he been in orbit around the Unmaker and the life giving Titan who shielded him? It was hard to keep track without any citizens on his surface to constantly chatter to and about him.

Right. Citizens.

Being in his alternate mode, Mars was incapable of sighing as he wanted to. But as he took control over one of his drones and piloted it to the surface, he let the drone pause and linger on the view. Why had he lived while his wards died? It was not fair. He should have carried them until the very end, bringing them to salvation and away from the fires of Cybertron.

If only there hadn’t been plague. Maybe then he could at least have the chance to take on new citizens and ease the ache in his spark.

No, no. He couldn’t think like that. Contemplating such things almost always led to dark thoughts. It was not allowed. He had to stay calm and composed for Fengari. His poor brother was blind for Prima’s sake. Fengari lost his optics, his citizens, and his ability to take to the stars if he so desired in order to stay with Earth. Fengari suffered more. It was not Mars’s place to weep when he at least had remnants of his people upon his frame in the form of paintwork.

He still had them with him, in his spark and through the echoes they left upon his surface. Sweet Solus, many of their inner habitations were still untouched. He’d ensured it remained that way.

He still had relics. He had echos. He was fine. He had no reason to cry.

Right?

“Primus, our maker... we are so far from you. Can you hear us? Do our sparks still resonate with yours?” He spoke through his drone, letting his voice ring out with only a slight bit of static due to the corrosion of his vessel. He sighed as he received no answer, not that he really expected one. He stared though his drone in silence for a while, the quiet of the void all but deafening.

If he listened closely with his real body, he could hear the faint song of stars, the thrum of their very being radiating nearby. Earth’s Star had quite the pleasant melody. Enough for him to fall into recharge.

But he couldn’t allow that. If he slumbered, he may not wake. Instead, he endured the silence, the isolation. Perhaps Mortus would be kind enough to come and pay him a visit during one of his patrols.

‘Mars? I have news.’

He stalled for a moment as waves of emotion crashed against him. Mars had to pause to translate the EM field communication he found himself assaulted with. Young Terra was not the most educated in matters of gentle or polite correspondence, but she could most certainly be heard.

‘Earth, it is a pleasure to hear from you. What news do you have for me?’

He tried to keep his communication controlled and neutral. But as he sent back a response, he sensed something coming near to him. It had been heading in his direction for a while, but for the longest time he’d simply assumed it to be space debris. Looking more closely, it appeared to be some kind of device.

‘My children have created a drone of sorts. They are sending it to your surface to analyze you. Do not fear; the drone appears to be insignificant and designed purely for observation. I simply wished to warn you.’

Mars almost stiffened, but he forced himself to relax so that his surface would not shift as the thing drew closer. Without a second thought, he moved his drone as far from the potential landing site as he could get without losing track of this incoming drone that was apparently headed his way. He forgot to send a reply for a long while as he watched the thing draw ever nearer.

Earth’s humans were such deadly and destructive beings when they were left unchecked. Mars had witnessed the horrors himself when he watched them drop bombs all over poor Terra’s surface. Even now, the wounds still brought her pain from time to time.

What would happen if her humans found him to be of use for some grand scheme? Would they harm him too? Mars was a Titan; he could survive if he had to. But he would rather not expose himself and, consequently, his kin to Earth’s destructive little scraplet farm. Why she loved them so dearly was beyond him.

‘Thank you for the warning.’

He eventually sent back curtly as he watched the drone finally land on his surface. It felt so very strange to have a new entity roaming his frame. Halley rarely landed, and when she did, her very frame eliminated warmth like a young star barely contained within living metal. This thing was cold, but not necessarily in a wicked sense. It seemed... almost like a protoform, yet lacking a spark. The emotions were familiar, the feeling of potential almost overwhelming.

Mars stared through his drone, his very spark flaring in its chamber as ancient desire rose within him. The drone was tiny, barely the size of the smallest newsparks that he had nurtured before the fires of Cybertron. And yet, as he looked upon the small wheeled entity roaming and prodding at rocks and pebbles like they were the most interesting thing on this side of the galaxy, Mars, or rather, Bellum’s spark, swelled with love.

The ache that had long burned within his core seared as he gazed upon the youth of the small thing roaming his surface. So small. So pure. So full of potential.

Ancient coding sang within him, and before Bellum knew it, his drone moved just a bit closer, although still out of view. This one did not appear to be affected by the rust of his surface. It roamed freely, without a care in the world. Such innocence… Bellum needed to guard it.

Had Earth’s humans sent him this little gift out of kindness? No. They couldn’t have. They did not know he lived. And yet, he couldn’t help the way every part of his processors screamed at him to accept the offering. Such things were done for the sake of an alliance between Titans back on Cybertron. Old habits died hard, and Bellum could hardly contain himself as he fought the urge to have his drone snatch the Earth-born drone and drag it toward his core so he could connect to it intimately.

He couldn’t expose himself. Not yet. But Bellum was a patient being. Let the humans explore through their gift. His scans indicated that the poor drone wouldn’t last more than a few years without maintenance. He would wait until the humans abandoned it, and then, when all was done, he would finally have a chance to serve his purpose once more.

“Sweet little roamer, do not fear. You may not understand now, but soon, when your creators have let you fly away from them, I will take you under my wing.” He all but purred, keeping his vocalizations below the range of the drone as he observed it.

“You will not know fear. You will suffer no illness. I will give you a spark, and when the time is right, I will make you into something more.” His spark flared in affection as the tiny Earth-born gathered rocks, observing and producing soft sounds of affirmation as it went. What a lovely voice it would have once Bellum granted it a spark.

He could hardly wait.

‘Mars, are you in distress?’

Fengari, Moon, whatever designation he went by, sent a message that snapped Mars back to attention. Only after he refocused did he realize he’d been sending out waves upon waves of countless emotions in short, and likely unsetting bursts. His brother’s concerns made sense now.

‘I am perfectly fine, brother. In fact, I feel better than I have in millennia.’

Confusion met Mars’s response. He didn’t pay it much mind as he continued to observe the drone upon his surface. It was just so small.

‘Let Terra know that so long as more of these drones are sent to me, she shall have my full allegiance.’

Shock met him this time, but Mars merely hummed. He had something to hope for now, and he had no intention of missing a single moment of his new firstborn’s life. He would have to get his visual images printed at some point for the little one to see once they developed mentally.

“Explore to your spark’s content, sweet roamer. I shall wait for you.” Mars felt his frame ease and a faint song escape his true vocalizer as he watched the small drone pick up a rock and stare at it.

Soon. Soon he would be a Sire again.

#transformers #maccadam #alternate universe #transformers oc #unicron and earth au #u&e mars #u&e sojourner #transformers fanfic #u&e moon #u&e earth #cute family feels

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radioisntdead · 9 months ago

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Good morning, as you have requests open can I get some Velvette x g/n! reader angst (perhaps ending with comfort) romance?

One night they overhear her talking negatively about them (not an overlord, lack of confidence, whatever) so they leave behind a note saying they were right to feel like she didn't actually love them and they've left, not saying where.

Good evening my dear! We are ending the cannibal streak with Velvette! WOO, It's late and I'm woozy, this became a song fic I'm sorry.

Velvette x reader,

Warnings!

Light angst, Valentino,

The song used: Moral of the story

You and Velvette met at a New Years party back in the 2000's, the air was heavy, you had a red solo cup with heavens knew what was in it, maybe Vodka and something? You didn't know, people were kissing, yelling, and whatever else.

So I never really knew you

When Velvette approached you, you felt like the luckiest person in the world, like nothing else in the room exist, she was only person there in your eyes,

When she talked about how boring the party was you found yourself agreeing with every word she said, her voice soothing to you.

God, I really tried to, Blindsided, addicted

The two of you died in a car accident, music was blasting from the radio, you were looking outside the window, and Velvette was texting and driving,

It was quick, she ran a red light and BAM, a truck hit the two of you causing the car to roll, glass shattered and the one thing you remember is reaching out to Velvette before everything went dark.

Felt we could really do this

You once told Velvette that you'd follow her to hell and back,

Guess that was true because guess where you ended up?

But really I was foolish

Things didn't change much as she rose to the top, becoming an overlord, teaming up with some guys named Vox and Valentino, Vox was decent enough but Valentino gave you the chills, he never did anything but still.

Velvette made sure to shield you from his business, you weren't allowed on his floor.

Hindsight, it's obvious

Velvette was never scared to demand things, to order things around, to get her hands somewhat dirty if needed, if she wanted it she got it

You weren't like that, you didn't like having blood on your hands, While Velvette treated service staff like they were an inconvenience you treated them with respect, like they were people.

Velvette didn't like that part of you, she liked it when it was towards her or maybe the other Vee's but no one else.

Talking with the cannibal She said, "Where'd you find this girl?"

You weren't having a good day, you and Velvette got into a argument over her spending too much time on her phone, you said that she loved that stupid thing more then you, she didn't deny it, just said that you were acting fucking crazy and left.

I said, "Young people fall in love, with the wrong people sometimes"

You had several things to do, some employees couldn't do their job properly and you didn't want to lash out of them, all you wanted to do was just relax with your fiancee, you got some flowers and an Emoji plush to give her as an apology.

Some mistakes get made

As you stood outside the door that lead to the Vee's living room you could hear muffled talking, a voice you could recognize was Velvette's.

That's alright, that's okay

You cracked the door open and peaked in, She was talking to Valentino.

You can think that you're in love

"Then They say that I love my phone then them! Like maybe if you weren't such a fuckin' loser that can't even order a coffee without almost crying I'd pay more attention to you!"

When you're really just in pain

You clutched the flowers, crushing the stems as you took a step back.

Some mistakes get made

"They aren't an overlord, the only they have any of this is because of me!" She said throwing herself onto the couch and went back to her phone, that damned phone.

That's alright, that's okay

Quietly and quickly you made your way to the room you shared with Velvette, you did your best not to slam the door indicating that you were back, you threw the flowers and plush into a trashcan before taking out a few suitcases.

No tears were shed, just anger, betrayal and disappointment flooded you.

In the end, it's better for me

You packed the clothes that were your favorites, you couldn't take everything since for one, Velvette gave you the majority, and two, she gave you a bunch of clothes.

Once You had everything packed you wrote a note giving a brief explanation, that you had heard what she said, and that since you were SUCH a loser, she should date a overlord instead.

That's the moral of the story, babe

You left the Vee's tower, without a single soul noticing, now standing on a random street corner you took a deep breath, you had enough money, from your OWN means, to get a hotel to stay at for maybe a week? Just until you could get an apartment or something.

It's funny how a memory

Velvette didn't notice you were gone until late the next day, she thought you were being petty avoiding her because of a little fight and she had decided to let you take the bedroom, sleeping in her office instead.

She supposed she should apologize because she loved you and she was tired of this.

Turns into a bad dream

She stepped into your shared room, not noticing anything missing, until a colorful object caught her eye from the trashcan, leaning down it was an emoji plush, cringey but it was soft, it was covering a bouquet of flowers, her favorites infact.

When running wild turns volatile

Her face twisted into confusion as she looked around, spotting the note you left on the bed.

She hadn't meant for you to hear her.

Remember how we painted our room, Just like the other Vee's did?

You were gone. She fucked up.

So romantic, but we fought the whole time

It was just a small fight right? The two of you would kiss and make up like usual, maybe watch a movie after, but you had left, you left her!

Should have seen the signs

She couldn't find you, anywhere.

Vox only got footage of you leaving the tower and nothing else, he spied on the ENTIRE ring and he couldn't find YOU?

Talking with the cannibal, She said, "Where'd you find this girl?"

You had stumbled upon the Hazbin hotel, you were welcomed by Charlie with open arms, she was ecstatic, you were the first sinner to join them after the extermination.

Said, "Some people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes"

Being away from Velvette was so...

Some mistakes get made

Freeing, it was as if you were spreading your wings for the first time in years, which you were! You'd been with Velvette for over a decade, not counting your life beforehand.

That's alright, that's okay

You loved Velvette, you truly did, but she didn't love you like you did her, she didn't act like it,

She thought you were on the weaker side.

You can think that you're in love

You had no interest in rising up the ranks, working instead on becoming a better person, with every exercise with the hotel residents you got more and more confident, changing your appearance along the way.

When you're really just in pain

After you more sinners came to the hotel, a few ready for redemption.

Some mistakes get made

You met someone, she had the most beautiful pink eyes that reminded you of pink lemonade, she was different then Velvette, you couldn't help but compare the two, Velvette was so... Cruel and she was so Soft, kind, she just killed a guy but that wasn't a deal breaker in your book.

That's alright, that's okay

It took time but the two of you grew close, you'd have lunch together, eventually that moved to sleepovers, movie nights, sweet words exchanged between the two of you.

You were apprehensive about entering a new relationship after Velvette, but it just felt right.

In the end it's better for me

Charlie was excited when you went to her for date ideas to take your newest sweetheart, she was so proud of you, you had come so far!

That's the moral of the story, babe

They say it's better to have loved and lost

Velvette searched for you, you due to plot armour and your changed appearance had managed to completely avoid Vox's cameras or Velvette's hunting you down, she regretted saying what she did, she wouldn't have said it if she knew you were listening!

Than never to have loved at all

You had decided to step out of the hotel with your dearest sweetheart, deciding to go out for a simple date, watch a movie and maybe shop around and grab a bite to eat

That could be a load of shit

Velvette had decided to go check out her competition's stores, going shopping at the same stores you did.

But I just need to tell you all

You didn't see her, and she almost didn't recognize you but she did.

Some mistakes get made

Her blood ran cold, or colder as she watched you dote on the lady next to you, arm wrapped around hers, holding her bags for her.

You had done that for her once upon a time.

That's alright, that's okay

She wanted to say something, like where have you been, I'm sorry, who the fuck is this, come home! Or something but she couldn't, she could only watch as you laughed at something she said, you used to laugh like that with her,

You SHOULD be laughing like that with her.

You can think that you're in love

Velvette's hand clenched into a fist, her fingers digging into her palm making indents.

When you're really just engaged

You should be with her, not whoever that wench was! The engagement ring she had accepted from you ages ago was still on her finger.

Where was yours?

Some mistakes get made

She watched as you walked away with her.

That's alright, that's okay

She finally moved, following in pursuit.

In the end it's better for me

You and your sweetheart were having a wonderful time, shopping around and the two of you were finally getting something to eat, you went to the cutest little café, and you walked back to the hotel holding hands.

That's the moral of this story

Some mistakes get made

Velvette knew where you were now.

That's alright, that's okay

You were so happy, Velvette hasn't crossed your mind in ages.

You can think that you're in love

She didn't know how to get you, she didn't want you to hate her.

When you're really just in pain

You squealed as you landed on your bed kicking your legs back and forth like a lovesick fool.

Some mistakes get made

You had to come back to her willingly, once you were done with this little fling, she would leave you heartbroken and Velvette would welcome you back with open arms, hugs and kisses.

That's alright, that's okay

You sighed happily, a dumb love filled grin on your face.

In the end it's better for me

You had come SO far from how you were before, you were proud of yourself, you had a healthy relationship with your lovely girlfriend, you had amazing friends, and you were on the road to redemption with them! You couldn't ask for more.

That's the moral of the story, babe

You will never go back to Velvette, you loved her once yes, you truly did, but that was in the past, and you deserved better, and you got better.

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! It's late for me and I wrote this in one sitting, I'm gonna go knock out now, have a wonderful night folks!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #Velvette x reader #hazbin velvette #hazbin velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette

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bellafragolina · 2 months ago

Note

*Slowly slides into your requests* Hey, saw your requests were open and have a request. You remember the phantump story you wrote a while back? Is it okay if we get a Warden Ingo follow up to that? I can just imagine Ingo returning to his time with this phantump with him. Emmet would be thrilled to have his brother back, but he would notice how subdued he is. He'll notice how protective he is of he phantumb, and how he never battles with it. It would probably take a while, but when Ingo finally says just who the phantumb is he would probably be horrified. That phantumb is his brother's child. His nibling. This is what is left of a young child who died due to being tossed out of the only safe place they had by a bunch of adults looking for a scapegoat. I just think it would be interesting to see how Emmet navigates the whole phantumb situation.

delicious absolutely delicious

🍓🍓🍓

Phantumps. Emmet wracks his brain for information about them. They're not native to Unova, he knows that, but where were they native to again? He remembers a Galarian man with one, and maybe someone from Hoenn too? What had they said, if anything, about the little possessed tree?

It's hard to remember, with the Pokémon stood before him. Ingo's arrival, while celebrated and prayed for, brought many changes to routine. The new Pokémon were one of those changes, and of those new Pokémon, Phantump was the strangest.

Emmet is no stranger to baby Pokémon, what with his collection of Joltiks. But the Joltiks still battle, one another and sometimes even the older mons, to gain experience. Ingo, however, lunges in between whatever Pokémon tries to start a friendly scuffle with the Phantump, sometimes eating moves himself to protect his baby.

It unnerves Emmet. Pokémon are made for battles, they love to battle, and from what he's seen, the Phantump likes to even command battles alongside Ingo. The little Pokémon sat in its own custom baby carrier, strapped to Ingo's chest, cries out and the Pokémon of Ingo's new team listen to it.

So why won't Ingo let it battle?

Why does Ingo treat the little Pokémon like it's his actual, human child?

Emmet drops the spoon he was holding, a shock traveling up his spine, one not from the Joltiks. Ingo glances up from his own bowl, Phantump whining in his lap.

"Emmet?"

Emmet doesn't respond, mind reeling as he begins to remember the little tidbits of Phantump and how they come into the world.

A hand grips his shoulder. Emmet jumps, balking up at Ingo's face all pitched with worry. Ingo can't even ask him what's wrong, for Emmet is whispering to him.

"Phantump was. . ."

Ingo staggers back as though Emmet smacked him. He snaps around, and Phantump coos, still sat on the chair where Ingo left it. It doesn't resist the strong hug Ingo pulls it into, happily nuzzling into his shoulder.

"Phantump was. . ." Emmet tries again, voice barely hanging on. "Was a child. . ."

Ingo's entire being trembles. Though his back is to Emmet, he can still hear the tears that drip from his voice. "They were mine."

The shock of the new information sends Emmet reeling once again.

For all the time that Ingo was gone, surviving somewhere dangerous, it never occurred to Emmet that Ingo might. . . live. Might live his life, make a family, try to make the best of what his fractured memories left of him. To have a child, to have one that is now snuggled into his arms, bark and leaves and spectral limbs. . .

Dragons, Emmet thinks, staring into the peaceful face of the little Pokémon, that's my nibling, that's my family.

Emmet fires to his feet. Ingo whips around to him, stammering out words through his sobs, trying to explain, but Emmet doesn't let him. He hugs his brother, hugs his nibling, hugs his family close to him.

Ingo wails into his shoulder. "Th-they were supposed to protect them. They were su-supposed to take care of them in my stead. I was on a mountain, I was so far away. . . They banished them, Emmet, they banished my baby and they d-di-"

Emmet shushes him. As Ingo sobs, he feels the gentle touch of rough wood on his face. Phantump echoes his cries, sharp and high pitched with a pain he couldn't ever know.

🍓🍓🍓

what fun! i missed writing angst for these boyos!

hope you enjoy! i had a lot of fun writing this one!

~Renee

#pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #submas x reader #warden ingo x reader #child reader #angst

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braunbakery · 7 months ago

Note

I’m sorry if this is rude but would you ever write a sequel to little sparrow? Like what happens between jean and reader and Mikasa after reader confesses to him?

poison oak

☞ jean kirstein x fem reader

☞ sequel to little sparrow, word count: 3k

☞ sfw, angst angst angst, canon-verse [post aot finale.]

☞ plot: there comes a point where whatever false comfort you and jean are afforded by pretending what you said on the boat never happened hurts more than you can bear.

☞ inspired by poison oak - bright eyes

☞ poison oak

the nightmares will never truly leave.

this is something that you all know full well. know to your deepest cores as the paradis demons, the paradis survivors, the paradis warriors. heroes. it needs not to be talked about, to be acknowledged or discussed.

and yet, they seem almost worse now that you awaken to safety. now that you can awaken to the knowledge of a war victoriously won and finally over. it seems even near the calm flickering and warmth of a fire at your bedside, or the crickets chirping outside a window, your mind cannot forget. it seems easier to have a nightmare when you were living in one.

jean knows this all too well, as he remains between sleep and consciousness tossing and turning until his bedsheets are all but crumbled into a bundle on his mattress. this is the routine – one he knows that he and his friends often undergo – especially in the nights following the end of the final battle for peace.

sometimes he is a young boy again – fifteen and watching his friends be devoured by beasts beyond comprehension. sometimes he is older and wiser, but still inhabited by that same fear and dread that has followed him from his most innocent and tarnished youth just to face enemies that look just like him. sometimes there are guns and sometimes blades. sometimes he is surrounded by comrades and sometimes he is isolated and staring up at the wall that dictated his very existence until countless died to be rid of it.

and sometimes – not often, not nearly as often as he would like – his nightmares are interrupted by an ocean breeze and your blurry silhouette in front of him. back at that boat before the final stretch. you’re speaking – he can hear your voice and make out your figure moving – yet he can’t make out the words.

he doesn’t need to. he knows this scene well enough since the day it happened.

his mouth moves of its own volition and he can barely even see from this cursed blur cast onto his vision – but he knows he is clasping your shoulder and he knows what words will come next out of his mouth.

“i need to go.”

and then he is awake.

*~*

it’s easy to get wrapped up in whatever comes after the war.

months go by and you’re signing treaties and mourning and meeting officials and reinstating civilisations alongside your comrades – but it’s barely ever that you all get to be friends. no, these moments are few and in between yet when they come it is like an air of gratefulness settles into the room until once more you are all interrupted by whatever duties are bestowed upon you next.

you are somewhat thankful for this business – obviously not for the horrors of that final battle or the things witnessed and lives lost – but for this sudden political leadership you and your comrades now share. you do not have time to think of jean and your confession. sometimes thoughts of it do slip in, it is hard not to when you have to see him so often those first few months, but now it has been a year and you have all gone on to follow your respective lives.

that constant underlying ache for him has turned into an occasional sting. you love jean. you do. it is a fact written into the crevices of your soul since your youth – but you owe it to yourself to live. to torture yourself no more with thoughts of him.

(“how have you been?” he says to you in the corner of the meeting room you are all situated in. you’re both currently stood at the small make-shift coffee and tea station set up for you all and pouring yourself a cup.

“oh!” you had not realised jean had sidled up beside you, “good! um…i’m alright.”

jean’s eyes flit between both of yours and suddenly you’re filled with the same embarrassment you used to feel when you would get tangled up in your ODM gear when you were younger and jean would double over laughing at you. he brings up a hand to the back of his neck.

you both have not spoken of that day on the boat and you certainly do not plan to bring it up.

“good…” jean eventually replies, “that’s good.”

“sorry,” you blurt out, “how’re you?” jean is grinning at your perceived impoliteness.

“tired,” he candidly blurts out and now it’s your turn to beam at him.

“i think we all are,” you say, and jean nods at you until suddenly his hand is coming up towards you. closer and closer and you’re frozen to the spot, you don’t even notice that you’ve stopped breathing. all you can think of is his hand’s nearing proximity to your face until suddenly it stops right at your eye.

he lightly brushes his thumb under your eye – the sure sign of your sleepless nights. you’re looking up at him lost for words as he mindlessly stares at the slight darkness painting your undereye.

when he locks eyes with you, it’s like he has suddenly realised himself and with an all too quick motion jerks his hand away from your face and stares at the ground.

“yeah, i’d say that’s right,” he sheepishly mumbles.

you hand him the teapot and both stand in silence until you’re called back to the meeting table.

and then like a well-trained dog, whenever you catch him look at mikasa (whether sparingly, whether a glance or his utmost focus as she speaks), you stare down at your clasped hands in an attempt to no longer involve yourself in whatever wreckage jean kirstein unconsciously makes of your heart.)

sometimes he writes to you.

a meeting of the so-called ‘heroes’ has become infrequent and only once every few months. you’ve all settled in different places some far and some close. sometimes you meet without the guise of peace and restoration, and sometimes that very guise is what’s needed for you all to see each other again.

so, you resort to writing. it’s you that starts it.

you write to everyone. you want to know of their plans, of their news homes, new lives, new directions. armin writes back the most – always lengthy responses and curiosity practically emanating off the parchment paper. in the times you have all met between these letters everyone has expressed their dismay for having to sit and write (‘as much as we’ve gone through together, you know i’m not writing,’ connie quips), yet at least once a month you receive something.

this is excluding jean, who week after week has something to say back to you.

he writes of new friends, new hobbies, new places, new desire for exploration. he writes and he writes and he writes, answering every question you have and asking his own. and it’s hard not to get too wrapped in it – you are childhood friends, you are soldiers in arms. and you have only just been able to resolve the heartache from the boat into a rough reminder that only comes and goes.

so with every letter (every poorly-scrawled joke and sudden idea and ‘yours truly’) you swallow your beaming smile and read as if this were anyone of the others writing to you.

*~*

eventually you do all meet, months later, at a bar.

it’s rounds of beers and dastardly jokes and everyone chortling at connie and jean rough-housing each other like they were teenagers once more. it’s reiner being forced to chug pints with a red face as connie insist he loosen up and ‘you’re the biggest here, you need to catch up.’

jean meets your eyes as everyone cheers and all you can think is that you are so happy to see him so at ease. to no longer see him as that haunted boy on the boat. your eyes meet jeans and all he can think is that he is so happy to see you here with everyone (which includes him. here with him.)

a lull of silence falls over the table eventually and you look up at jean to find him already staring at you. you offer him a small smile, overcome by the smooth buzz of alcohol and the warmth of the bar, and he reciprocates yet neither one of you looks away.

in the depths of your mind, you can feel whatever thoughts of him you have supressed over time come crawling out once more and you wonder if you are both to go on with the rest of your lives without ever mentioning what happened that day long ago. the silence breaks and everyone’s head turns to reiner, who’s holding up his half empty glass.

“to eren,” he declares, and you can practically hear mikasa’s breath hitch in her throat from next to you. around the table you can see the slight glaze over everyone’s eye, the sudden realisation that you truly did all make it out, “and to everyone else lost.” reiner continues.

slowly but surely, everyone’s glasses are raised up to the air and you’re back to years before inspecting jean’s every move like you can practically bore your eyes through his head and read his thoughts. and as your arm is outstretched in tribute to those who should be here with you today, you realise that jean is not looking at you.

he is looking at mikasa, as a single tear slowly trails its way down her cheek. he looks and he looks and he looks, even after everyone places their drinks back on the table with a synchronous clink. everyone is sharing a sympathetic glance at her, but in your most selfish moment you stare at jean.

you slowly watch as he stretches out his hand across the table and gently clasps it over hers, offering her a consoling smile and looking at her in ways you could only dream. sometimes you think maybe this is the look he gives you, maybe this is what you see when his eyes suddenly catch yours across the room or when he had brushed his thumb under your eye or when he tells you he looks forward to your next letter. but no – the look you long for is in front of you between him and her. from him to her.

without even thinking, you clasp your hand on mikasa’s shoulder and make your way off of your chair and suddenly jean is quickly retracting his own from hers. you cannot even spare him a look. you feel so selfish, you feel so dumb. you made it through battle upon battle and monstrosity upon monstrosity yet for some reason you cannot make it through whatever you feel for jean.

“think i’m done for the night,” you blurt out, voice slightly slurred from the amount of drinks you’ve had – though you suspect everyone else’s voices are similar. through everyone’s boos and goodbye’s you can hear jean.

“what?”

but you can barely spare him a glance before you’re grabbing your coat from the back of your chair, crossing the room and leaving the bar with no hesitation.

*~*

it’s only ‘til you’re halfway down the cobblestone street where the bar is that you realise the reason you’re so uncomfortable and cold and wet is because it is raining and you forgot your damn umbrella in the bar. so swept up in thoughts of a man who doesn’t love you that now you’re standing in the middle of the street at god knows what time looking like a fool.

jean kirstein doesn’t love you.

does jean kirstein love you?

why doesn’t jean kirstein love you?

maybe you were fine with whatever lingering glance and weekly letter and small yet fleeting touch. maybe a deep most embarrassing part of your mind thought perhaps he was growing to. maybe some convoluted side of you thought that perhaps with this much effort he put into sustaining your friendship, something else could be there. maybe–

“hey!” a voice calls after you in the distance.

you instinctively turn around and of course, of course, it’s him in all of his glory standing in the rain with your folded umbrella in hand and raised towards you.

“i think you forgot something,” he says and he starts to jog towards you. when he notices your hair dripping wet and your face almost laminated as he reaches you he can’t help but laugh, “though i’m a little late.”

“thanks,” you muster out, but you can’t seem to manage to take the umbrella from him. you can’t seem to move at all. jean frowns. he knows that something is wrong, and you can tell that he knows. it’s not like you (you who insists on writing letters, on meeting every few months, on reminiscing and appreciating and loving those who have come all this way with you) to suddenly leave without another word.

“what’s wrong?” jean starts, staring down at you staring down at your shoes.

you can’t speak until suddenly a hand is lightly touching your chin and tugging your face up. you’re met with his face and you hope – you pray – that he cannot notice whatever tears may or may not have escaped and that he may think your sniffling is from spending time out in the rain and not from this sudden sadness that feels like it’s taking over your every limb.

sadness for what? for something that never was?

“i’m going to bed, jean,” you say, slightly angling your chin away from his hand which remains in mid-air despite your movement.

“tell me,” he repeats, “tell me what’s wrong.”

you stare at his wet hair that has started to stick to his forehead for a moment. for a few. until suddenly you realise that he’s begging. he’s begging. he’s begging for you to tell him…to say it. and surely by now he can tell it’s from all that time ago, when you were bearing your soul to him in what could have been your final moments alive with each other. he must know. he has to know.

it's when he slightly nods his head at you as he watches you rummage through your own thoughts that he does know. he just wants you to say it.

“you’ll never love me, will you, jean?”

“that’s–”

“jean, please,” you snap, “just be honest with me. you owe it to me.”

“i know i do, i…” he feels like he’s barely able to enunciate. barely able to keep the words pouring out of him before they even make sense in head, “i’m sorry about the boat.”

your heart is rising and falling and rising and falling and you don’t think you would’ve ever heard any acknowledgment about what happened that day for as long as you lived. you thought that despite the fact that the both have you have faced enemies larger than life, you would both have never faced that day together.

“yeah,” you barely mouth out.

“i’m sorry i didn’t say anything. i’m sorry i…i just left. i don’t know why i–” he cuts himself off with two hands up to his hair, scrunching and pulling at it like his life depends on it, “the last thing i ever wanted was to hurt you.”

“it’s a bit late for that,” you can’t help but spitefully remark. you hate what this has made you into, this bitter and sad person this heartache has rendered you into.

“i know,” he breathes, “i know. but i…” it’s like it’s paining him to speak, and it’s a miracle you can even hear each other over the raindrops colliding down onto the street beneath you. your chests are both heaving and your breath is evaporating into steam in front of you. your clothes are soaked all the way through and jean’s are certainly on the way to being the same.

“…you?” you urge.

“i think i do.”

what?

“what?”

his hands are suddenly on your shoulders and his eyes are boring into you and you can feel the steam of his breath on your cheeks.

“i think i do,” he says again, voice racing itself, “like, really really do. i know it’s mean to say this now, i know it’s selfish. but i just need time. i just need to let go, somehow.”

you can taste the salt of your tears.

“let go of her, you mean?” and jeans eyebrows scrunch at the fact that you know full well what he means. he’s always known that you’ve know – sure, he saw your reaction at the bar – he just never imagined that you’d speak it aloud. speak it aloud to him.

he swallows, “yeah.”

you’re tired, you’re so so tired.

“i’m going to bed, jean,” and you start turning and wrenching yourself out of his grasp, but his hand is now around your wrist holding you in place.

“wait,” he urgently blurts, “please.”

“jean,” you tearfully sigh. this is not the life you want to live. you did not survive for this. you did not fight and win and go on just to still have your heart dictated by jean and mikasa.

“please,” he says again, slowly.

“jean, i’ve been waiting for you for years, whether i’ve liked it or not.”

“i know–”

“and now we have no war. now we have people, we have lives. we have something more than bloodshed.”

this time, jean lets you when you carefully tear yourself out of his grasp and fully face him.

“and i’m not letting myself spend what we have now waiting.”

*~*

that night, you take your umbrella from jean and walk to the nearby inn that you have all purchased rooms in for your stay without ever opening it. you listen to your feet echo against the empty cobblestone street and thank yourself that you turned and left before you could stare at jean’s back leaving you like before.

when you get to your room, you strip off all of your clothes and leave them in a heaped damp puddle in the corner of the room, then sit at your bed alone staring out the window. the wind slightly batters against the wooden panes and you can hear its distant howl.

it’s then that you realise you are somehow still on that boat. and maybe you are cursed to never leave.

thanks for reading :) feel free to request (please something other than jean dear god)

#jean x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein angst #aot fic #aot angst #snk x reader #snk angst #jean fic #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk fic

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ofherpinkways · 1 year ago

Text

I҉̡̯̺̜̅́͋̃͢͜n̸͐̈́͟͟͝ M̶̶҉̳͈̺͟͢͠͠ͅȳ̸̵̩̜͔͍̔́͟͟͢͡ R̴҉̷̨̖̮̉͑ͯ̑̋͟͠o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝m̴̵҉̸̲̗̰̼͗͌̃̇͟͟͟͠͞͠

( My friends and I giggle about how the "Love ", "In my room " part sounds like Stewie Griffin singingI tried my best yall - 🤍🩰🧸)

cod men x fem reader fic based off the song(Warnings blood,gore,violence,please beware of the lyrics as they may cause triggers)

*tap* *tap* *tap* "Are you gonna let me in ?*tap* Hello? Hello ? "

You died two years ago on a mission , just "simple" way to go , getting caught in the across fire. "Just the wrong place,wrong time" they said

2:45 and the bell went off,thank God

Many people think i'm odd

He hasn't acted the same since, how could he ? You were the love of his life. The small flame of hope in his darkness and trauma. Now you're gone 6 feet under the below rotting way

But I talk with no one and I walk alone

And I avoid sunlight with a chalky tone

I get home and I don't say hi,it ain't no one there

He stopped talking to everyone completely , shutting everyone out as he rebuilt the walls. The walls that you were helping him break down. Instantly going to his dorm after every mission without saying anything

I don't care,I walk and go right up the stairs

To my room,get in bed and I just wait for dark

He sits in his dorm for hours on end lost in dark thoughts

Because that's when the real show starts

(Tap,tap) tap,tap on the glass go the piece of ass

He eventually started seeing things , YOU. He started showing up about year after your death

So young and pretty ,it's too bad she passed

There you stood again pale and cold

But she comes to my room and we talk at night

You've been showing up every night for about two months now

She's demonic and bloody but she holds me tight

Obviously it wasn't actually you. You stand there lifeless with glossy eyes and a sinister,stomach turning grin .(like the one smiles in Smile 2022) He didn't care

In my bedroom,with her,I'm never alone

And I kiss her cold lips until the morning comes

You guys spend the nights in heated make out sessions

Then she gone,I can still hear her voice loom

But she only exists in the dark of my room

Love,I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

He became obsessed

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

I try and smile a lot but I'm always frontin'

But I do love a ghost and at least that's somethin'

She don't talk much and when she does,it gets cold

3:00 am now and the whole Base grows cold , nothing feels right

Usually we just lay there,where we hold we each other

We're lovers, we don't need others

The two of you stay snuggled against another

One of my mother's cats jumped up on the covers

And it scared my baby,'cause she don't like pets

The k-9's started to bark loudly outside of the barracks not liking the dark eerie presence in the air , causing you to leave him

So I twisted its fuckin' head off at the neck

"Look baby,it's bloody,it's gone,it's doomed

"please! come back to the room"

"I'll do anything for thee,don't ignore me"

This is more than a sick love story

There he sat begging and crying for you to return

Without you,I'd bring a shotgun to school

And I will if you want me to,for any reason

I hate that you leave when the lights come on

And if I had it my way the fuckin' sun would be gone

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love, I do adore you

In my room

Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

He just wants you back

Sometimes I kiss her,I start shakin'

Your demonic self has him on a choke hold

She slips me the tongue and it tastes like bacon

There the two of you sit kissing in the dark,footsteps are near by

Uh-oh,something's wrong, baby's upset

you pulled away from him,your frown shifting to smirk

She told me she was spotted by the neighbor's kid

She can't come back now.'cause they know our secret

Unless I can make them keep it

One of the other guys "saw" you

If i do, she may come back to life

Now I'm in their yard with a shotgun and knife

Cut the screen,went and sun the kid

Blew a bowl of spaghetti in the side of his head

He got up and out of the dorm,pinning his own teammate,his own friend to the wall bashing his head against the brick wall in fit of rage

Then the daddy was next,next runnin down

He went after everyone else

I shredded his throat and he was quick to fall,tossed the Mossberg and gribbed the knife

Started stabbing the shit of his wife

One by one he got to everyone

Went home a bloody mess with a job well done (tap,tap)

Wash up and wait for my baby to come (tap,tap)

He cleaned himself up and sat in his bed waiting for you

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

There he sat waiting

I waited two, or three days, four days

Waitn' for the tap tap like always

Days passed and you still haven't shown up yet

I waited and hated this

I created a bloody mess

Guilt started to hit him

I waited for two, or three months, four months

Waitn' for the tap,tap just for once

I waited two, or three days, four days

Waitn' for the tap tap like always (where is she?)

I waited and hated this(why isn't she comin' back ?)

I created a bloody mess (tap,tap)

Worry started to hit him

I waited for two, or three months, four months(I fuckin' killed those people!)

He killed his teammates, his friends

Waitin' for the tap,tap just for once ("where the fuck is she ?")

I waited and hated this (tap,tap)

I created a bloody mess(why isn't she coming back?)

(Love) I waited two or three days,four days

GUILT

(In my room) waitin 'for the tap,tap like always (I can't believe I did)

WORRY

(Love) I waited and hated this

GUILT

(in my room,you and I)I created a bloody mess ("I killed them")

WORRY

(Love) I waited two or three months, four months

(in my room) waitin' for the tap,tap just for once ("where is she")

GUILT

(Love) I waited and hated this

(In my room you and I) I created a bloody mess

He went insane

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lucysgraybird · 4 months ago

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Billy x female reader where she gets the same sickness as her mother and brother but she manages to survive and he takes her to their graves (yep long hours traveling) just to share that part of his past with her because he loves her and is glad she survived because he wouldn’t have bared another lose

hiiii this is so brutally late. im sorry. ive also adjusted a little because i wanted to write it but im so bad at writing travel and couldn't figure out a way to do it that didn't feel drawn out but i can do a part 2 if u want!!

warnings: dscs of death and illness

Billy feels like he's been living in a haze. First a haze of ignorance, pretending that he didn't recognize the wet, hacking sound of the coughs you muffled into your elbow, that the way your brow bloomed with dry heat didn't throw him back into the pit of being seventeen and curled around his mother's febrile form. Then a moment of clarity, like a bucket of ice dumped over his head, when the doctor touched his elbow and confirmed consumption. Finally, and he can't decide which stage he's hated most, a thick fog of despair and desperation, rimy water dripping from washcloths down his arm in twin trails to the sweat he's wiping from your forehead, trying to convince himself of minute drops in your dogged temperature. He nurses broth down your raw throat and prayers up his own, pleas to a God he might not believe in to just leave him with something good in this world and pleas to himself to believe that this time will be different.

And he might just make a return to church, because his calls are answered. Slowly, like a slug creeping to salt, you recover. Color fades from the pyretic spots high on your cheeks and returns to the rest of your face, you sleep through the night without a coughing fit tearing you awake. The brightness in your eyes starts to look more lively and less dazed, and eventually you're strong enough to stand and bathe. Billy helps you into the tub and then opts to sit outside the door -- close enough that his anxiety isn't spiking, that if something happens he can help, but far enough that you can regain some of the autonomy that is ripped away in illness.

He'll never quite figure out why he says this. Maybe it’s the dim candlelight, coaxing the world out of reality and into a dream, a place where anything that happens will stay forever locked somewhere out of time. Maybe it’s that he wants to pretend you have the kind of relationship that demands this honesty, because you've said “‘Til death do us part” and meant it and so he owes you his greatest love and his deepest fears. He'd give you the former without question, of course, but he's still practicing that the latter is an unavoidable sidecar to that kind of devotion.

"I thought you were going to die," he says, and his stomach immediately twists in shame. You're recovering still, and here he is making it about himself. When you don't say anything, surely listening in that tranquil, soft-eyed way that you somehow always managed, he continues.

"I wish you could've met my ma. She was...good, like you. At her core, that's all there was, this sturdy kindness that I never understood how she maintained. Sometimes she'd say that when good people died young, it meant that God thought that spirit belonged more in Heaven than on Earth, and I was so scared that he got...impatient again, with you, and I was so scared that..."

Silence for a moment, then your voice, still hoarse:

"I would've liked to meet her too. She must have been quite the woman, to have raised someone like you."

Billy snorts out a laugh. "Something like that."

There's the sound of sloshing, and Billy can see the way your spine curves in his mind's eye, chest pressed to your thighs and chin rested on your knee. He can hear the way the position stretches your neck in your voice when you speak.

"I'm not letting anyone take me away from you. I don't care how much I'm needed somewhere else, I need to be here with you. You make it easy to be this good, Billy. It isn't in spite of yourself that you always manage to find warmth; there isn't a fire I've found that...exists without stoking."

Tears prickle his eyes and his throat tightens so that the next deep breath he takes squeaks like his voice is dropping again. He can't bring himself to use the crackly tone he knows is the only one he can access now.

"We should visit your ma," you suggest. "Someone's gotta tell her what a wonderful young man she raised."

"Her grave is far," he manages, though the end of the sentence cracks and so does the dam, silent tears streaking his face. In all truth, it's not outrageously far, but he's been scared to visit. Scared to tell his ma who he's had to (chosen to?) become, scared she'll smell the gunsmoke that seems to cling to his hands and clothes and memories, scared she'll meet the ghosts that have become more like his shadow.

There's the patter of wet feet on the bathroom floor and he stands with the intention of making himself scarce by the time you emerge, leaving nothing but the pale ghost of his vulnerability on the floor outside the bathroom as proof of the wall that just crumbled there. He'll calm in bed until you're done bathing, and hope for your mercy in disregarding his momentary fragility. But the door clicks open and there you are in your nightgown. There you are with your skin scrubbed clean, you with your hair in the braid you wear to sleep. There you are with tears on your face, with your arms open to him like the Virgin Mary, offering a forgiveness that he doesn't deserve. The guilt of this will carve stigmata into his hands later, nailing him to the cross of his history, but for now he takes the pity and collapses into you.

"We'll start out tomorrow," you say, overcoming the awkward angle your height difference creates to pet his hair. "I'd like to meet her. We should bring her flowers."

#ehhhh . idk how i feel about this #(presses post)#tom blyth #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid imagine #billy bonney #billy the kid hc #billy the kid x you #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney x you #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney imagine #william h bonney

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la-petite-lapin · 1 year ago

Text

Double the Love | Part Two

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.9k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of poor mental health, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings

They finally meet

One year later...

The message comes out of the blue. The first time I've heard from John Price in a whole month, and it's a fucking text message.

I'm watching TV, curled up in a ball on the sofa next to my best friend and flatmate Winslow "Winnie" Sloane, when my phone pings. I think about ignoring it until I catch a glimpse of his name. It's an unspoken rule between the two of us - we never knowingly ignore one another. Obviously, he can't reply to my messages when he's on ops, but that's different - that's not wilful.

I pick it up without hesitation and take a look.

JOHN PRICE: Tali, I need a favour. It's urgent.

My heart drops.

TALIA KELLER: What's happened? JOHN PRICE: Call me. I'll explain.

So, I do. I tap Winnie on the shoulder and rise up to my feet, shuffling off to my bedroom so I don't disturb her episode of Slow Horses. When I'm safely shut behind my bedroom door, I tap on the call button, dreading what's awaiting me on the other end of the line.

"John?" my voice is full of nerves as the call connects, echoing slightly around the room.

"God am I glad to hear your voice, Tali." He sounds haggard, his own voice tired and hollow. It's not hard to tell that he's fresh off an op. I can already imagine how drained he looks; can picture the dark circles shading his eyes and his scruffy too-long beard.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly brave, I try to talk him into leaving the service. I think about Alex and his death, and I hate that John still knowingly puts himself in harm's way day and night. He's the only serving soldier I know now - I never met any of the other members of their unit - and I desperately wish that he'll retire soon.

"How are you?" he follows up, voice puncturing through my thoughts.

"I'm okay. At home with Winnie. How's Marcella?"

A soft sigh leaves him at the mention of his long-suffering wife. I wonder if he's even had a chance to see her yet. "Last we spoke, she was perfectly fine. Misses you though. You need to come over for dinner soon."

An easy laugh leaves me. Winnie and John aren't the only ones who've been supporting me since Alex died. John's wife Marcie has been there every step of the way too, helping me through rough patches whenever John is away on deployments. And Winnie's never been anything but kind and understanding - it's not in her nature to be anything but.

"Soon," I mumble in agreement. There's a sound on the other end of the line in the background, a murmured snippet of conversation and a drawn-out groan followed by a soft shut up. "Not alone?"

"Got some company," John admits. "Speaking of... does Winslow still have that big trip coming up?"

My palms slick with sweat. Yes. Yes, she does.

Ever since her big promotion six months ago, Winnie's job now involves a lot more travelling than it used to. And - because of that - in three days' time, she'll be in France, starting a month-long assignment helping a struggling marketing firm in Paris.

And I'll be alone.

It doesn't bother me as much as it used to, but I've always had this thing about being alone. It's part of the reason why I live with Winnie; why I've been seeing a therapist since I was sixteen; why I struggle to have normalcy. My current therapist thinks that it's a form of abandonment issues from being orphaned at a young age, which has led to my inability to maintain stable relationships. The therapist before that thought it was something completely different; that I seek to form attachments but wilfully don't, self-sabotaging and creating my own permanent sense of loneliness. But, my point is, I don't react anywhere near as badly to it as I did when I was a kid.

I still remember when I was fifteen and Alex left for his first deployment. I was still living with our maternal grandmother at the time, and I completely shut down. I holed up in my room for almost a whole month, refusing to speak and barely eating or sleeping. I could hardly function for worrying about him...

"Tali?"

I snap out of it. "Sorry. Yes."

"Could you... could I possibly bring some of my guys to your apartment? Just while Winslow is away. Our safehouse in the area has been taken out of action and we need somewhere to lay low for a little while."

My guys. The unit.

"What about your place?" My brow furrows. Surely Marcella wouldn't mind a few guests. She's calm and motherly and takes great pride in hosting. I'm sure she'd be in the element with them.

John clears his throat awkwardly. "Not an option. They don't know."

Ah. The brave, almighty Captain John Price still hasn't told his team that he's married. Typical.

I roll my eyes. "Okay. I hope you know that we're coming back to that later." A beat of silence passes. "How many people are we talking, John? Because it's a two-bedroom flat in London. It's spacious but it's hardly the Tardis."

He snorts out a dry laugh. "Only two. One of the lads is local so he's got family around here he can stay with. And there's some stuff I've got to get done, so I'll be hopping from base to base."

"Where are they going to sleep? Are they going to mind sharing a bed? Because the sofa is comfortable, but I know how you army guys are built..."

There's an awkward silence on Price's end as I hear him shifting around. It takes me a second to realise that he's covering his mouth against his phone's microphone. "Yeah... that's, um- that won't be an issue for them."

Oh.

"Okay. Cool. I'll take them."

I wince. Why the fuck did I say cool? Of all the ways that I could respond and I choose that. Way to go, Tali.

"Are you sure that you're okay with this, Tali?" Price asks, his voice soft and encouraging. "If you aren’t, we can find something else-"

"Price, I'll take them in. Winnie leaves on Tuesday morning, so just have them swing by around then, okay?"

Favour asked and questions answered, we say our goodbyes and hang up. It takes me a second to gather my thoughts before padding back into the living room. The moment I step through the hallway, Winslow pauses the TV, angling her head up to look at me. A cloud of black curly hair frames her beautiful face, dark eyes wide and expectant. "Is John back home?"

I wince, getting ready to launch into an explanation. "Not quite."

Tuesday morning rolls around all too soon. By 9 a.m. I'm sitting cross-legged on the foot of Winnie's bed as she packs up her stuff. I can't help but feel a pang of anxiety strike deep in my chest.

"Are you sure that you're gonna be okay?" Winnie asks, almost like she can read my mind.

I meet her dark, knowing gaze and offer her a smile. "Winnie, I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me. If I need anything, I can call Marcella."

She smiles, running a hand through her freshly braided hair. The pearls attached to some strands clink together softly. "Okay. Good. But you've got to call me once a week at least, okay?" Before I can reassure her that I will, she adds, "And you've got to text me every day."

"Winslow, I will. Stop stressing, please."

A moment of easy silence passes before the laughter starts. Both of us crack up, her eyes finding mine and holding my gaze.

Once we've both calmed down, I take a closer look at her cases. She's packing almost everything she owns. It's a sight that worries me, so I look away, deciding to look out of the window instead.

A loud, firm knock on the front door saves me just as Winnie is packing up her last suitcase. We exchange a look before I'm up on my feet, scrambling to answer it. I can't lie, I'm curious to meet John's friends. But I'm also sad. Because there's a strong possibility that they knew Alex too. That they were with him when he died.

When I open the door, there's two men standing in the hallway, just like John said there would be. The first has short brown hair styled into a mohawk, the sides cropped close to his scalp but the top and back left longer. He's broad-chested, muscular too; built like a grizzly bear. And, even though his complexion has a slightly pallid hue under the overhead lights, it's not hard to imagine that he's usually quite tan.

And then there's his friend. Standing next to the grizzly bear and at least half-a-foot taller than him, he has the expression of a man who wants to break me apart with his bare hands just to see what's inside. I fight to meet his intense gaze, taking catalogue of the features visible under the dark hood of his black sweatshirt. His eyes are hazel - I think - skin tanned from what I'd assume are long hours spent out in the sun, and I can't quite make out his hair colour. He's equally if not more muscular than his friendlier-looking counterpart. My eyes trail down to his mouth, drawn to the scar bisecting his bottom lip. It doesn't draw away from his attractiveness though; just adds to the sense of rugged charm that I'm getting from him.

Not that it should matter. It doesn't. They're here because they need help; not because they want to be ogled by a complete stranger.

"Are you John's friends?" I ask stupidly, as if they could be anyone else.

The grizzly bear nods. "Aye. And you are?"

Scottish. Nice. I've always loved the accent, but his is even better. There's a humour there; something uniquely his. It makes me want to keep him talking just so I can hear it more.

"Tali." I step back so that they can come inside. They hesitate for a second before following me into the living room, the tall, silent one closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Also John's friend."

The grizzly bear plops straight down onto the couch, stretching out with no hesitation and making himself at home. His arms drape over the backrest, a lazy grin forming on his lips as he watches me take a seat on my armchair. The tall one gives him a reprimanding look, hovering beside the window behind him. His light eyes are always alert; darting around the room like something's going to jump out at any second.

"You army?" he asks, expression wary. His voice is all gravel with a Manchester accent.

I offer him a small smile. "Nope." I don't think anyone could mistake me for a soldier. I'm small - short and slender - and skittish at the best of times. "So... what should I call you?"

Hazel eyes narrow at me. "Ghost."

The grizzly bear rolls his eyes dramatically, offering me a wide, disarming grin. It's blatantly obvious that he's overcompensating for him. "Callsign is Soap, but a pretty lass like you can call me Johnny."

My heart flutters.

It takes a second to remember what John had said on the phone. Sharing a bed won't be an issue for them. The awkward, implying tone he'd said it in. In other words, neither of them are meant for me.

Ghost eases away from the window to stand just behind the sofa, drawing closer to Johnny. Johnny, on the other hand, moves so that he's leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees as he cocks his head at me. "A friend of Captain Price, are ye?"

I nod softly. "Yes."

"Funny that," Ghost barks, tilting his head to one side. "He's never mentioned you." Thinly veiled suspicion drifts off of him in waves, and it makes me feel endlessly uncomfortable. His harsh gaze melts through my skin and bones, boring deep into my soul.

I shift in my seat. "He never mentioned either of you to me, so I don't think that counts for much."

Johnny lets out a loud laugh. "I think I'm gonna like ye, Tali. Not many people talk back to 'im."

It's in that moment - as I'm silently praying for the floor to open up and swallow me whole - that Winnie steps out of her room, suitcases in tow. She walks into the living room, depositing them by the front door before coming over to introduce herself, a sceptical look on her face.

She levels Ghost with an icy glare, not looking away from him as she asks me, "Everything all okay here, Tali?"

"Yeah, it's alright Winnie." I gesture to each of John's friends in turn. "Winnie, this is Johnny." He raises his hand and waves, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "And that is Ghost." I point to looming, ominous figure behind him.

"Ghost?" she repeats slowly. I nod. "Okay, well I'm leaving now. Tali, I love you and I'll miss you. Remember to call me." She bends at the waist to hug me, wrapping me up in her warm, vanilla-scented embrace. As she straightens, she glares at each of the men in turn. "And you two - don't give her any shit. If I find out you've made her feel uncomfortable even once, not even John will be able to save you. Got it?"

Johnny stares up at my friend, mystified. His blue eyes are bright as he nods. "Don't worry. We won't be any trouble."

Winnie turns back to face me. "Right, I've got to go or I'll miss my ride to the airport. I'll be back before you even know I'm gone, okay?"

"I know," I say, my voice soft. "I love you. Be safe and text me when you land."

With a nod, Winnie presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head then gets her last few bits together. And then she leaves. Leaving me alone with two complete strangers. Yay.

"So," I grumble, struggling against the urge to shy away from their intense gazes in the safety of my room, "do you want to see where you'll be staying?"

Later that night, the three of us gather in the living room to watch TV.

The guys didn't have much to unpack. They travelled light so I'm going to have to go shopping sometime soon to buy them some essentials; more clothes and toiletries. Definitely food too. If dinner tonight was any indication, they eat a lot.

I'm curled up in my armchair again, watching something that Johnny chose on Netflix. Every once and a while, I glance across at them. Ghost is sitting upright, legs stretched out in front of him. His legs are so long that his feet are tucked under the coffee table. And then there's Johnny. He's laying on his side on the sofa, his head resting on Ghost's muscular thighs. Every now and then, Ghost's hand runs down the length of Johnny's side, stroking him in soothing, rhythmic motions.

Looking at them, I can't help but feel a sense of longing. Jealousy that they're together and obviously quite happy. That they're comfortable enough around one another for these subconscious displays of affection.

I'll never have that. It's something that I've come to accept. I'm twenty-five now and I've never had a serious relationship. I don't even think I want one. For a period of time in my late teens, I thought that I might be aro-ace, but over time I've gathered that I do feel romantic and sexual attraction. It's just different.

The sad truth is that I don't trust anyone enough to believe that they'd stay with me. Love me. Make me feel safe enough for displays of casual affection. There would always be that looming sense of dread that they'd leave me sooner or later.

In my head, I've justified it. If I don't get into relationships, no one can leave me. Alex's death all but solidified that for me.

The rom-com Johnny picked out gets to a comedic scene - a naked beach fight - and he starts to chuckle. I join him and I swear even Ghost lets out a little snort. We're all laughing until...

"Fuck. Johnny, you're bleeding."

My heart crawls up into my throat. My eyes snap across to them, blatantly looking now. The white t-shirt Johnny is wearing is plastered to his side, a red patch seeping through the fabric, spreading across his ribs.

He sits upright, holding it with one large hand. "Ah fuck. Didn't get any on the sofa, did ah'?"

"Fuck the sofa," I splutter out in a panic. "Are you okay? Why are you bleeding? Should I call an ambulance?"

Johnny looks back at me with a quizzical expression while Ghost just sighs, standing up. He walks towards the bedrooms at an unhurried pace, stopping along the way to press a chaste kiss to Johnny's forehead, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, darling, I'll get the bag." Hazel eyes swing towards me, where I'm still panicking in my armchair. "His dressing just needs changing, and I'll check his stitches. He's fine, love."

I ease back into my seat, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Oh."

Ghost leaves the room, heading into my bedroom to get the aforementioned bag. I've decided to give them my room for the duration of their stay because it has an en-suite. It eliminates the risk of me accidentally stumbling in on them in the shared bathroom that doesn't have a working lock. Overall, it's safer for everyone that I'm staying in Winnie's room.

Feeling more than a little foolish for my outburst, I offer Johnny a weak smile. "I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight, Johnny."

"Ye sure?" he asks, blue eyes tinted with a hint of... something. Maybe disappointment? I don't know. "The movie isn't over yet. You seemed like ye were enjoying it." His brow furrows. "We could watch something else."

"I'm sure. It's fine; I'm just tired. We can watch another movie tomorrow night if you want."

His eyes light up at that. "Yeah, sounds perfect."

I'm back in Winnie's room by the time Ghost leaves mine. I can hear his footsteps padding down the hallway. Hear their muffled conversation and muted laughter.

As I fall asleep, I can't help but feel a different kind of loneliness. And, as I drift off, my heart aches for what Ghost and Johnny have.

a/n: guess who's back! so Tali has finally met the boys :) sorry if this part is a little short, just wanted to get something out in time for christmas for you guys - merry christmas and take care of yourselves, lapetitelapin

#cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x reader #female reader #romance #angst #poly #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #double the love

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isolde-illustrates · 5 months ago

Text

Fintan and Bronte Headcannons

Fintan:

He needs glasses ever since the ever blaze incident. Fintan is neither nearsighted nor farsighted; his vision was mutually messed up in both ways. Incidentally, his hearing has gotten sharper because of how much he focuses on using it.

He refuses to wear his glasses despite having damage due to the bright burning light.

He also cannot smell anything except smoke faintly whenever he is near a fire. All of his nose hair has literally burnt off, so he gets a lot of sinus infections, too. The ice prison does not help at all, and he constantly has a runny nose (which he cannot stand).

Fintan sometimes walks into walls and somehow manages to pull it off so no one except the doctor who took care of him right after the incident knows how bad his vision is (the doctor was too afraid of fintan).

Everyone in the neverseen is waiting for him to admit that he can't see, but then Fintan does crazy stuff that makes them think that he actually has perfect vision and is just faking it.

Fintan does not wear shirts under his hoodies or vests because he can't stand the extra heat. (tw: scar) Fintan also hates whenever his chest is exposed because of a scar he has from the accident, so he always laces up whatever he is wearing really tight, or adds more buttons to his shirts and vests so that there are not any gaps that could show his scar if he bent forward.

His scar could have been healed, but he wanted to keep one of the scars from that day as a reminder of what happened. It's close to his heart, although the worst part is near his stomach. Bronte knows about this scar because he overheard Fintan yelling at the doctor for trying to heal that scar when Bronte was on his way to talk with Fintan about the Council.

He loves elegant clothing. That was the third thing he hated most about being kicked off the Council. Not only did he lose his ability and power, Fintan was no longer allowed to buy certain degrees of fancy clothes. As a result, he now knows how to sew very well. He still insisted on making someone else do the patchwork in the Neverseen while he was there. Alvar and Ruy normally ended up stuck with the work.

Fintan is killer in heels. He can wear those bright red kinky boots and run in them (unless there is a tree root that he does not see). Still, if the ground is visible to him, or if it is fairly level, then he will sprint in those boots. He would also kill song 6 of Kinky Boots. There is no denying it.

He and Vespera were besties and he started out borrowing Vespera's dresses, but then just went ahead and made his own. They are both fragil and frail creatures, so it definitely would have worked.

Fintan used to have hair down to his waist, but after it got burnt in the accident, he swore that he would never let it touch his shoulders again because that was the version of himself that died in the fire, the young pyrokinetic who thought that he had nothing to lose in a dangerous lesson. The only times his hair has gotten long again have been when he has been in prison, both in Exile and now ib the ice prison. In Exile, it was just past his shoulders. Fintan had cut it again, but his time in the ice prison has gotten his hair almost to his bicep.

Fintan has a thing for chickens. Besides tasting good (he can't help that he tried it when Atlantis had humans), chickens seem so trusting of him and recognize him. He had a couple at his house, and they helped with his gardening (fertilizer).

Bronte:

He has perfect vision, which annoys Fintan to the extreme, especially because Fintan sometimes has to listen to the voice before knowing who is nearby.

Bronte learned how to speak multiple human languages, which is how he was able to speak with Amy (I don't care what Shannon says about the languages being the same, why should English be the one that is exactly like the elven language and not Latin, Persian, etc).

He knows all of the human curse words that Sophie switches into when things are bad and does not call her out on it unless she forgets to switch and stays in Elvish (because he thinks it's funny when she apologies and immediately says a string of human curse words, mainly English and Spanish, but whatever she heard in a high school with the ability to hear human thoughts). She was fluent in those words before becoming a polyglot, and sometimes Bronte lets a word slip, forgetting that Sophie is there. It has become an inside joke for them.

Bronte loves layers. He will bundle himself up in longer capes and procede to almost trip on them.

He would not be caught dead in heels. (Bronte would have, however, been caught alive in heels if it was just around Fintan. Not anymore though, because he no longer trust him after the whole Neverseen thing. Bronte was the Charlie of the two, and Fintan was the Lola.)

Bronte started cutting his hair short because Fintan teased him. Originally, he and Finran both rocked the long hair. Bronte had a mullet that went to his shoulders. His cropped hair and short height reminds Fintan of a little chick (which makes sense as Fintan doesn't know if he wants to kill Bronte or keep him forever).

#kotlc fintan #fintan pyren #kotlc bronte #kotlc #kotlc thoughts #kotlc headcanons #councillor bronte #fintante

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captain039 · 1 year ago

Text

PART 3 Stains of red

Astarion x omega!reader

Warnings: Vampire things, blood, light gore, witch things, fantasy things, swearing, age gap, heats, smut, shameless flirting, virgin reader, indulging in pleasure xD, pining, jealousy, possessiveness, angst, masturbation

Previous part <-

You awoke to Pax, greeting him groggily before getting up to make tea. You made some toasted bread with jam as well before sitting on your seat outside, placing your items on the small table. You watched the duck family go about the pond, quaking to each-other, it brought a smile to your face. Pax sat on the table cawing softly trying to steal some toast making you huff and give him his own bit. You half expected Astarion to show up, but then again you prayed he didn’t not after what happened. You’re not sure how the whole vampire feeding worked, suppose to make it enjoyable one would partake in such activity’s. you shook your head sipping your tea as you took your attention back to the ducks. You perked up though hearing footsteps, not Astarions though, someone different. You saw the butchers father and stood, shooing Pax off as he approached closed.

“Morning” he greeted a little gruffly and you gave him a soft smile.

“Good morning” you said.

“How can I help?” You asked.

“Do you have something to, to help ease pain?” He asked and you frowned slightly.

“Physical or mental?” You asked and he looked to the ground ashamed.

“It’s only been a day and I can’t stand it, not after his mother died” the man said voice breaking and your heart clenched.

“Come inside for some tea” you said inviting him inside. You made him some herbal tea, one to sooth the mood and sat down with him.

“What’s happened is horrible I can’t imagine it, but I don’t have anything to ease that sort of pain, it’s something you must work through” you said a little sadly as you saw his shoulders sag.

“Guardian said he was drained of his blood” he whispered softly and you froze.

“Drained?” You repeated and he nodded putting the cup of tea down.

“Neck slit and drunk dry” he scoffed, brow frowning. Your stomach dropped, you didn’t know any vampires in the area part from Astarion, gods you hoped it wasn’t him.

“I’m so sorry” you whispered.

“What kind of monster does that!?” The man raised his voice, angry alpha filling your nose. You gulped a bit and he saddened.

“I’m sorry Lass” he said and you shook your head.

“It’s alright” you offered a smile and he sighed.

“I didn’t mean to come here and burden you with my issues, I know that’s not what you do” he sagged. He looked tired, long brown hair tied back and greying, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, dark bags under his eyes. He looked ready to give up.

“I’m here to help the village, if that help means a simple talk, then I’ll do it” you said and he smiled sadly.

“My son, though he never said anything was sweet on you” he chuckled lightly and you tensed a bit.

“He’d always watch you when you’d get your ingredients and food, silly love sick pup look on his face” you smiled slightly at his words, you didn’t know you had an admirer.

“I’d tell him to man up and go talk to you, but he’d always shake his head and say something like he wasn’t worth it” you saddened at his words now, though you didn’t know him well, he seemed like a nice young man.

“He hasn’t always been that smart I think that’s why he held back” the older alpha sighed.

“If his heart is good then he needn’t worry, if I’d known-“ you stopped glancing to the woods outside your window, you heard light steps, Astarion, he wasn’t coming closer though, just pacing in the forest even though you couldn’t see him.

“Are you alright?” The older alpha asked.

“Yes sorry, my ears are very sensitive” you chuckled lightly.

“Aye, you’ve got a gift” he said and you nodded.

“Shame what happened to your parents, is that white haired elf still around?” He asked and you tensed. Yes well he’s pacing in the woods.

“Sometimes he brings me things or says hello, apart from that he’s distant” you shrugged.

“Seen him around town a few times is all” the alpha shrugged.

“I don’t know” you chuckled lightly shrugging.

“Odd elf” the alpha shrugged.

“Yes” you nodded glancing to the window again.

“I best leave you, the meats not gonna cut itself” he said standing up, you with him.

“Of course” you smiled as he opened the door.

“If you do need to talk though, I don’t mind if you pop in” you said and he gave a small smile and nod as he left. You cursed slightly at the constant pacing sound in your ears. You closed your door and followed the noise finding him pacing by the river.

“Would you stop!” You snapped and the vampire turned around.

“Another alpha visiting?” The man scoffed and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“He needed someone to talk too, he is in mourning!” You glared making Astarion cross his arms over his chest.

“Besides your busy pleasuring women and feeding” you blurted and flushed furiously as you realised what you said. He grinned then, fangs on display and you gulped.

“I saw you staring” he said voice low and you dropped your hands to your side.

“Must’ve been someone else” you brushed off.

“I’d never not know your face or scent, darling” he said tongue running over his fangs.

“Besides, I could smell your arousal from the alleyway” he kept his grin and you felt your heart skip a beat, gods you wished the earth would swallow you.

“Fuck you” you said simply and turned around to walk back to your cottage, listening to him laugh and follow you.

“It’s only natural!” He called and you growled annoyed as you saw your cottage. You headed inside slamming the door in his face making him laugh. He sat out on your porch eyes closed and relaxed, you huffed as he looked perfect in the sun rays.

“Staring impolite” he called and you quickly busied yourself with your alchemy. You let him in eventually annoyed by his overly relaxedness on your porch. He grinned, but didn’t say anything as he sauntered in. He said little as you went about your day till dinner.

You stood over your oven, stirring the soup gently before you felt a presence behind you.

“What are you doing?” You asked feeling his fingers push your hair away from your neck. Your body tensed feeling his breath fan over your neck.

“I can see your pulse” he muttered lowly.

“Hear your heart pounding in your chest” he added quietly. one hand going to your hip. Your mind wasn’t processing the situation as cool lips pressed against your neck. His other hand crept to your throat and held gently, making you tilt your head to the side. You had dropped your spoon in the soup, breath shuddering as you gripped the counter.

“I always want a taste” he said darkly before you felt sharp paint in your neck. You hissed eyes closing as the pain went to a numb throbbing. Your legs shook and you panted as he stopped and moaned in your ear.

“Sweeter than anything I’ve imagined” he said breathlessly making you flush.

“You were always mine” he whispered.

Next part ->

#astarion #astarion x reader #x reader #aob #fantasy #vampires

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alicerosejensen · 2 years ago

Note

How would Leon react if he found out his girlfriend got into a serious accident? (Ex: car accident, injured at work, school, etc)

Leon would have a heart attack. End. 😅

But let's be a little serious. I love headcanons, but I write full-fledged texts only in my native language. So here are some more headcanons on this topic.

Perhaps some angst. The reader suffered greatly and did not regain consciousness for a long time.

I just listening to "I Monster - who is she?" on repeat in a slow version. Now I associate her with Leon and his girlfriend from college. I love the excessive suffering of characters in fanfiction, so as my friends say: We eat glass!

Enjoy.

- "Anything can happen to me! You can't always be ready for something! I can go outside and any accident can happen: a car accident, a maniac! Yandere, a stone will fall on my head... anything, Leon!"

Before the accident

Leon hates to think that something could happen to you. Sometimes he guards you too fiercely, trying to prevent any possible incident.

He asks you to be extremely careful, but you never take his words seriously because you did not see what he saw.

Do you like to tease him? "If I die, will I be the most beautiful dead person?" or "Will you sit on my grave when I die?"

If you tease him too much about this, he will raise his voice sharply and tell you to stop.

Leon will remind you to buckle up when you're sitting in the car. Even if you're sitting in the passenger seat! Just fasten the fucking seat belt and don't argue with him.

You don't take death seriously, considering that you are still too young to think about such things. Instead, you just enjoy life sometimes preferring the extreme. Bungee jumping? It would be better if Leon didn't know about it.

He had seen enough pain and death because of his work. Raccoon City has left a scar on him forever, so he wants you to spend your time safe and careful (no matter with people, transport or anything else)

Perhaps luck decided to turn away from you when a truck drove into you while you were sitting in the passenger seat of a car. You were turned over twice with the driver (he died).

Before you fell into the darkness, you were in pain. Very. It seems that a couple of moments before the accident, you wrote another stupid message to Leon, but now your phone is smashed to pieces, and blood flows from your head and runs down your face.

In the hospital (If reader survived)

Leon will be rant and rave to be allowed into your hospital room. This person will literally go crazy until they tell him about your condition, and God save the doctor if he tells him that there is little chance of survival.

If he saw you covered in blood and unconscious while the doctors were taking you to the operating table, then his heart will definitely stop for a couple of seconds. Leon will run after you until the paramedics stop him.

He'll remember all your fucking jokes about your death, which will put him on edge. He probably would have been sent home, but damn it, he won't leave until he sees you awake.

You can't die! You can't leave him alone in this world! He loves you so much and needs you.

Leon feels his arms and legs tremble with uncertainty. He is afraid that at any moment they will come to him and say that his beloved is gone.

Before his eyes, you are still in bloodstained clothes and a broken head.

He had deep bags under his eyes again.

Leon is ready to give anything just to keep you alive.

When a nurse comes up to him and says that you can be visited (have pity on him) Leon will jump out of his seat just to see and hear your voice.

Are you worried about your appearance after the accident? Bruises, stitches on the face, a split lower lip? Believe me, the last thing Leon will care about is your beauty and the condition of a broken manicure. He almost died when he found out about the accident, so he's only afraid that you're still in pain.

Don't even think about turning your back on him! Leon won't let you do it anyway. Kennedy does not know how to touch you properly so as not to harm you after all the injuries, but he will seek the help of a nurse so that she shows him how to take care of you properly.

He will take a leave of absence to take care of you while you are in the hospital.

Absolutely you will not be able to dissuade him from doing this. You hate feeling so weak in front of him, but Leon, on the contrary, does not understand your resistance. His loved one needs help and he will provide it!

If necessary, he will carry you to the toilet on his hands.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of!" - be embarrassed as much as you want, but your boyfriend will not leave you alone. You, like any living person, have the basic needs of the body, so Leon does not feel any disgust. Baby, I'm sure he'll wash you without a problem if you need help with this.

He will scold you if you don't rest enough or try to do something yourself despite injuries.

Leon S.Kennedy is not a hairdresser (but I'm sure he spends at least 30 minutes in the morning styling his hairstyle), however, he will try to put your hair in order. Make a ponytail or a bun? He really tries, in the end you can always turn on the video how to do it correctly and accurately.

Flowers and gifts are constantly lying by the hospital bed.

When you are finally discharged, then get ready for an hour-long safety lecture from Leon S. Kennedy, and no escape will not work. You will obediently sit and listen.

No more jokes about death!

Leon doesn't care about your scars. He will gently take your face in his palms and kiss each of them, but if you are very complex because of them, then after full recovery and rehabilitation, you can think about how to fix this matter with the help of cosmetology.

He will pay for everything, just smile again.

After the accident, this person will take even more care of you. He's had enough shocks! You almost left him alone in this fucking world, so he needs to know that his woman is okay and safe.

I think there will be at least one night when Leon will turn you around to face him when you are lying in bed trying to fall asleep and just hold you with all his strength to himself for a couple of moments forgetting about all the bruises. He will bury his nose in your neck, and it will last so long until you feel the moisture from his tears on your skin. Leon will cry, probably quietly, because he almost lost you and the worst thing is that nothing depended on him. Just let him do it. Tell him how much you love him and stroke his head while his fingers hold you tightly by the waist pressing you to the mattress.

Don't you dare leave me, angel! God, I thought I'd never be able to see you again… I love you so much if you would leave…I couldn't go on living. I need you so much.

Your his shirt was wet from his tears.

If the reader is dead

The first thing you need to know is that his world collapsed with your death.

Hannigan or one of your relatives could have called him to tell him about the accident.

If you were alive when you arrived at the hospital, then Leon would have rushed there to you right away. The scenario of his anxiety has not changed much.

However, if due to a traumatic brain injury you fell into a coma (from which you subsequently went straight to the next world), then some part of Leon was still hoping for a favorable outcome.

When he would have been allowed to see you, he would have looked at your scars and abrasions endlessly holding your hand. "God definitely hates me," he might have thought, quietly shedding tears knowing that you might not wake up.

While you were in a serious condition, he brought you fresh flowers, read your favorite novels, even if he thought they were really stupid, and put headphones on you with a quiet melody from your playlist. Leon hoped to the last that you would open your eyes.

But on the fifth day, you still died without regaining consciousness despite all the attempts of doctors to save your life.

Life is not a book or a movie. Leon didn't hear your last "I love you" or any of your words. He was left with only the messages that you wrote to him that night in the car before you were hit.

Which he didn't have time to answer.

A huge part of him is irretrievably dead. The loss of a loved one is not like everything he felt before. He really went to hell.

Why did this happen? He so protected you from any misfortune, but evil fate still overtook the one he loved.

Leon drowns his pain from loss in alcohol. The endless bottles all over the apartment would have made Claire stumble when she came to visit him.

For God's sake, he doesn't want to go to your funeral! He just can't stand it, because right now he wants to shoot himself, just not to live without your voice.

Claire noticed a loaded pistol on the table next to him.

It was a fucking accident. A drunk driver who crashed into a passenger car (taxi) in which you were sitting.

-"Why her? Out of a billion people, why her?!"

It is unknown how, but Leon was able to find the strength to come to your funeral after all. Your coffin is open to those who want to say goodbye to you one last time, but all Leon wants is to lie down there next to you. He just wants to hug you and kiss you with the hope that you will reciprocate, although he knows that this will never happen.

Tears run down his cheeks when he looks at you dead: really beautiful. Your relatives took care to hide the traces of a car accident. Leon touches your cold hand to remember for the last time what your skin feels like.

No, he doesn't have the strength to sit on your grave. However, Leon will regularly bring flowers there and brush away fallen leaves from the tombstone.

You 're gone forever.

"Is the little teaser happy with herself?" - He asks you, knowing he won't get an answer. He just stares blankly at the sky, hoping that you can hear him. - "I hope you have a good time there, because I miss you. You can't even imagine how much I miss you."

He won't be able to remove your things from his apartment for a long time.

You have to become an angel. Leon wants to think that's how you're still looking out for him. He is not a religious person and does not believe in God, but he loved you and continues to love you.

Sometimes he hears your voice, which puts him in a stupor. What if everything that happened before turns out to be just a long nightmare, and now he wakes up in the same bed with you? But he looks around and sees only an empty apartment that has been in need of cleaning for a long time.

When his longing becomes too strong, he takes out your things, trying to remember the scent of your body. He doesn't want to forget you so much.

Your picture is still on his bedside table. Even after many years.

Just know that your death means years of depression and alcohol for Leon. He hates himself that you died leaving him and he's alive.

"Just take me to your place, princess. I'm tired."

You are definitely a little scoundrel! Sometimes when Leon is too drunk, he thinks that you could have done it on purpose to hurt him. Just so those stupid jokes about death turn out to be true.

But he doesn't hate you. you will always remain his love.

However, now his desire to die is stronger than ever before, and he really hopes to see you alive, and not just in his drunken stupor

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