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asongofmarvelanddc · 2 years

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Ties That Bind

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Reader

WORD COUNT: 6707

WARNINGS: canon typical cousin-cest

SUMMARY: After spending most of your childhood in the Red Keep, it’s hard to let go of the bonds you’ve formed even with war on the horizon.

A/N: It's been over a month since HOTD and I'm really rusty with writing so if you see bad writing, pretend you don't xx Please reblog, like, or leave a comment! I love hearing from you guys 💛

You were only two years of age when your mother, Laena Velaryon, and father, Daemon Targaryen, left you in King’s Landing while they went to deal with some business in Driftmark. Looking back, it’s unlikely that they intended for your stay to last longer than a few moons.

The weeks stretched into years, and as you began to serve as your Aunt Alicent’s ward, your parents had more daughters – your sisters, Baela and Rhaena. They visited once, after your cousin Rhaenyra had her son Luke. Your mother had hugged you so tight and for so long that you feared she would never let go. And your father…he couldn’t stop looking at you.

Only a few years after that visit, a raven came to the Red Keep from Pentos. Laena Velaryon was dead. Your Uncle Viserys was gentle enough while delivering the news. He sat by your side, ready to console you if you cried. When you didn’t, he felt safe dismissing you from his chambers.

“She’s in shock.” you heard Alicent whisper as you left the room. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it would not hit you until you were at the burial.

That was not the case.

Long after Lord Vaemond’s eulogy and everyone returned to the castle, you stood on those cliffs staring out into the sea where your mother’s body now lay. It was a strange feeling knowing that she was gone. You felt the loss in your heart, but there was no grief, no pain…you were not even certain that you would miss her.

A part of you was ashamed to feel that way, which is perhaps the reason why you felt the need to hug your father tightly when you were reunited for the first time in years. You wanted him to believe you mourned her as your sisters did. And you hoped being with your family would help you feel that pain. It was a misguided hope.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of gravel crunching under approaching feet. It was Aemond.

He walked over and stood beside you, searching the horizon with his eyes to spot whatever it was you were gazing so intently at. With you being a few years older than him, you stood a head taller, but he was growing fast.

Eventually, he realised that you were not looking at any specific thing and turned his gaze to you. He looked at you through squinted eyes due to the gusts of wind blowing his long silver hair into his eyes.

He examined your face for sometime before asking, “Are you sad?”

A simple question it was not. You thought of how you’d feel if your cousins, or Uncle Viserys and Aunt Alicent died and knew that you’d be inconsolable. You would not feel this…numb.

“I don’t know,” you chose to answer as you turned to face him, “She was my mother and I’m sad she’s gone, but…I never knew her really.”

Any grief you felt was over never getting the chance to know your mother.

These were not thoughts you’d share with anyone, but Aemond wasn’t just anyone. With no dragons to claim, you chose each other. He was your closest friend and ally, and you were certain that there was not a single person in the seven kingdoms that knew your heart better.

Aemond slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. He knew how conflicted you were without the thought being expressed, and he wanted to be your comfort.

You looked down at him and smiled softly, “Thank you. For coming to make sure I was alright.”

“Mother sent me,” he said quickly, sounding flustered. He never liked admitting how much he cared.

“Of course she did,” you chuckled just as a blush coloured his cheeks, “Come, let’s return inside.”

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You were not sure how late it was. All you knew was that you’d been put to bed a few hours earlier but had chosen to read while your sisters snuck out of the room. That reading was interrupted by chatter and yelling coming from down the hall. You would not describe yourself as a particularly nosy child, but the amount of voices made you curious as to why so many people were awake at this hour.

Following the voices, you approached a room where the noise was loudest and pushed the door open. Your father, Daemon, was standing by it and as you looked around the room, you realised that everyone was here; your sisters, Rhaenyra, her children, Aegon and Aemond, your Aunts Rhaenys and Alicent, Uncle Viserys – there were even members of the Kinsguard present.

Aemond was sitting on a chair facing away from you, his mother standing in front of him. As your father pulled you closer to him, you meekly asked, “What happened?”

“Aemond stole Vhagar!” Baela spat harshly as she glared and pointed at him

You shifted your gaze to Aemond who had slightly turned around at the sound of your voice. As soon as your eyes landed on him, your blood ran cold and the air seemed to leave your lungs. There was a jagged scar running down the left side of his face, and his eye was swollen and stitched shut.

Without thinking, you slipped out of your father’s hold and brushed past your sisters, Rhaenyra and her children to reach Aemond, ignoring the looks from everyone in the room.

Aemond looked hesitant as you raised a hand to his face, your fingers brushing his cheek, but even that was too sensitive and he winced in pain.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked back tears asking, “Vhagar did this?”

He shook his head and looked at his mother. You turned to face her and saw her burning gaze focused directly at Rhaenyra who was bleeding from one arm and shielding Luke with the other.

Realisation dawned on you in that moment. “Luke?” you gasped as the boy cowered behind his mother. You couldn’t believe it. What reason could he possibly have had to hurt Aemond?

“There is no need to start this quarrel up again,” Rhaenys said, “We should get the children cleaned up and put them to bed.”

Everyone nodded, mumbling words of agreement as they started to clear out the room.

“Come, Y/N,” Daemon reached out a hand as he summoned you from across the room.

You stared at him for a moment then looked at Aemond whose eye was still on you.

“Uncle Viserys?” he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised, “Please may I go with Aemond?”

Viserys looked over your head, no doubt to your father, before letting out a sigh. “Of course, you may,” he cracked a smile, “But don’t stay awake too late.”

You smiled thankfully and returned to Aemond who was being helped out of his chair by Alicent. Almost everyone had left the room now, but Daemon remained by the door, watching you. You took Aemond’s hand in yours as you walked out of the room with Alicent and the Maester trailing behind you.

Alicent allowed you stay with Aemond for the night. She knew that both you and her son needed each other that night. He was laid on his back facing the ceiling, two pillows cradling his head to minimise movement. You climbed into bed beside him when he’d finished his tea and held his hand gently under the blankets.

“Does it hurt terribly?” you whispered after staring at him for a while.

“It did,” he said, “But the Maester’s tea is helping.”

You could see him trying to turn his head to face you completely, but wincing every time he moved it. It broke your heart to see him in so much pain. You didn’t realise when you started to cry.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” you spoke through tears as you squeezed his hand.

Aemond was quiet at first, but then you saw a tear roll out of his eye and disappear into his silver locks. “I thought you would be angry with me.”

“Angry?” you asked, wiping your eyes, “Why would I be angry with you?”

“I thought– Baela and Rhaena said–” he started through sniffles, “I should’ve given you a chance to claim Vhagar before I did.”

He thought he had stolen your chance at having a dragon, and that you would resent him for it.

“Vhagar chose you,” you reassured him, “She wasn’t mine to claim.”

Aemond seemed to blow out a breath of relief as more tears rolled down the side of his face and into his hair.

You decided to change the subject to make him a big happier, "Once I find a dragon, you could teach me how to claim it."

"And then you and I can go flying together," he said, his tone sounding lighter, eager, "We could race each other around King's Landing!"

"We could fly anywhere we want," you said, intertwining your fingers with his, "Just us."

Aemond did his best to look at you properly as a soft smile formed on his lips, "Just us."

You moved up in the bed and hugged him close. He didn't say anything even when your tears surely soaked through his shirt, and so you didn't let go even after he'd fallen asleep. Not even as you drifted off as well.

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It was dawn when you suddenly woke up. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. You glanced over at Aemond who was finally sleeping soundly. He'd woken up twice during the night crying in pain. Only milk of the poppy could ease his plight and allow him to return to his slumber.

The Maester said it would remain like that for next few nights. Alicent seemed even more terrified for Aemond, but you didn't care. You were going to stay by his side and help him through it. When he woke during the night, you whispered that promise to him over and over again, and his body seemed to calm.

Carefully, you slipped your hand out of Aemond's and climbed out of the bed. You gave him one last glance to make sure he was still sleeping before tiptoeing out of the room and returning to your own chambers.

As soon as you entered, you came face to face with your handmaiden, May.

"My Lady," she curtseyed, "Your father is expecting you in Princess Rhaneyra's chambers."

It was an odd request, but you went anyway. You noticed that your sisters were not in their beds and assumed they would be with your father as well.

When you finally arrived at Rhaenyra's chambers, Daemon was visibly annoyed. He turned to you, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Where were you?" he asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.

You nervously glanced at Rhaenyra who was standing beside him before explaining yourself, "Uncle Viserys said I could go with Aemond."

"Yes, to escort him to his chambers, not spend the night," he snapped, eyes burning deep into you.

His anger was unexpected. You and Aemond had practically shared a bedchamber since you were small. He would often climb into your bed late into the night and you into his. After some time, Alicent no longer cared to send you off to separate rooms, knowing come the morning, you would be found curled up next to each other sleeping soundly.

Of course, your father wouldn't know that. He was never there.

"I'm sorry, father," you bowed your head, mostly to avoid his eyes.

"It does not matter," he grunted, "I called you here to tell you that we will be returning to Dragonstone today."

The news was unsurprising considering what happened to Aemond. It was good they would be gone while he recovered.

"I need you to go and pack your things," he continued, "We will be leaving soon."

You froze. He could not be suggesting what you thought.

"Why?"

"Because you are coming with us," Rhaenyra answered. Coming from her lips, it sounded more like a declaration.

You began to panic as you looked between the two. "But…I don't want to," you said as you took a step back, "I wish to return to King's Landing."

They both seemed taken aback by that. Rhaenyra shared a glance with Daemon before stepping closer and taking your hand.

"Y/N, your father is going to Dragonstone. Your sisters too," she smiled encouragingly as she crouched down slightly, "Don't you want to be with them?"

"I want to go home," you snatched your hand away, suddenly terrified of how this situation may unfold. You couldn’t leave. Not now.

Not once did Daemon shift his stance. He just stood there, weight resting on one foot as he stated, "We're your family."

It was true. But your sisters had never needed you, and you questioned whether your father ever did either. What had changed? Why did he want you with him now that your mother was gone and Aemond needed you the most?

"Aemond is family too," you whispered, your gaze never leaving your father's.

Daemon rarely lost composure, but in that moment you saw anger awakened in him. He titled his head and narrowed his eyes before moving closer to you.

"That little cunt stole your mother's dragon," he hissed, "Your dragon."

That set you off. Your fists clenched at your sides and your skin felt like it was burning.

"You cannot steal a dragon," Daemon reacted to that like you had spit in his face, "And I don't want to go to Dragonstone, I don’t want to leave Aemond. I want to return to King’s Landing with Uncle Viserys.”

Daemon was silent as he watched you. He meant to intimidate you, but you were too angry to be affected. Rhaenyra’s eyes were trained on him, seemingly concerned about what he might do.

"I am your father,” he said after a moment’s silence, “You will do as I say."

He brushed past you as he walked out of the room and that was that. Tears began to well in your eyes as you looked down at the ground. You promised Aemond that you would be there for him. You promised…and then you didn’t see him for six years.

***

In some ways, being on Dragonstone had not been the worst thing imaginable. You cherished the opportunity to form relationships with your sisters, and your cousins Jace, Luke and Joffrey. But even as you grew closer to them, they could not replace the people you had lost.

For a time, the relationship with your father was improved. It was only in recent years when his many attempts to have you betrothed had been rejected by you that your relationship soured. You could not provide him with a reason for your rejections despite the suitability of many of the matches, and so he washed his hands off of you.

Your father loved you. You knew he did. But he loved other things – and people – more. It was a reality you came to accept in the years living with him.

When Rhaenyra announced that the family would be travelling to King's Landing on short notice, you could barely contain your excitement. You did not care that it was to go and defend Luke's claim to the Driftwood throne, all that mattered was that you were going to see your family again.

Arriving in King’s Landing on dragon back for the first time was surreal. You did not wait to see the Senryr taken into the dragon pit by the keepers, nor did you wait for your sisters or cousins when you landed. The only thing on your mind was finding Aemond and...well, you did not know what you would do or say yet. But you knew you needed to see him.

Starting at Aemond's old chambers, you were surprised to find Alicent coming out of the room.

"Aunt Alicent," you breathed as she wrapped you in a hug.

She was beaming when she pulled away, even stepping back to take in your appearance. "Y/N," she gasped and cupped your face in her hands, "How you've grown!"

You smiled and looked to your feet as heat rose to your cheeks. "How is Uncle?" you asked, offering a sympathetic smile.

Her face immediately dropped, eyes glazing over as her lip twitched. She didn't have to say it. It was as everyone feared – he did not have long left in him.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded, accepting your condolences before plastering another smile on her face, "Were you looking for Aemond? He'll be on his way to the throne room. For the hearing."

"I'll go there now," you pecked her cheek and hurried down the hall.

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The sheer amount of people filtering into the throne room was clear indication to the importance of this particular hearing. Rhaenyra was standing with your father at the very front of the room on the right side of the aisle. You bowed your head and briskly walked towards them to stand with your cousins.

On the opposite side of the aisle, you spotted white hair very similar to yours on three heads. One of them was sweet Helaena, and Aegon was more than likely the man standing next to her looking bored. Towering over the both of them was Aemond. His hands were clasped behind his back, long hair cascading over his shoulders. The eye patch gave him away instantly.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you saw him, and as if he’d heard you, he snapped his head in your direction. Even from this distance, you saw the way his eye widened ever so slightly upon making eye contact. Every inch of you wanted to dart across the room and throw yourself into him, but you knew what the consequences of such a public display would be.

Where you were anxious and jittery, Aemond froze at the sight of you. He'd gathered that you were in the Red Keep when he encountered his nephews in the courtyard, and yet he was still so unprepared to see you again. Instantly his walls began to crumble and he found himself scrambling to keep them standing.

You smiled at him and he melted, but he could not let you see that. Instead of returning it, he turned away from you and faced the Iron throne. It was an unexpected action, but it didn't hurt yet. Perhaps he had not actually seen you.

You kept your eyes on him for the rest of the hearing, hoping to gain his attention – to no avail. When the entire farce of a hearing was ended, you tried to call out to Aemond, but he disappeared amongst the crowd of people.

He spent the rest of the day avoiding you, much to your frustration. It is why you were glad to hear that Viserys had requested to have his entire family join him for dinner. Before Aemond could protest or find another place at the table, you occupied the seat next to him, hoping it would force him into acknowledging you.

It did not work.

Despite being sat right beside him, Aemond made no move to speak to you or even look in your direction. He was actively ignoring your presence, and it would be a lie to say it did not cut you deeply.

It remained that way for most of the night. At one point, he actually turned his chair away from you to watch Jace and Helaena dance. It wasn’t until after his toast to your cousins and the scuffle which followed that he acknowledged your existence.

Everyone but you was on their feet, a few guards held Jace and Luke back as Aemond stared your father down. For a brief second he glanced in your direction, a second that felt like a lifetime, then he turned, hummed to himself in annoyance, and strutted out of the room. Without thinking about it, you rose to your feet and followed him out, ignoring the stares of confusion from your father and Rhaenyra.

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Outside Aemond's room, you raised a hand, intending to knock, but decided against it and pushed the door open. The two of you never knocked in the past, why should it be any different now?

Aemond was sitting in a leather chair by the fireplace, one hand resting on the arm while he cracked the knuckles of his other hand. He paused when you entered and tilted his head slightly to see you with his right eye. Once he confirmed it was you, he turned back to the fireplace, not acknowledging you at all.

You scoffed and looked around the room, spotting a gold chalice and some wine sitting on a high table on the opposite side of the room. You walked over to it and filled the chalice before approaching Aemond. He finally lifted his head to look at you when you held out the cup for him.

“What are you doing here?” the smoothest Valyrian danced off his tongue as he accepted the wine from you.

You smirked and raised a brow. “He speaks,” you said, “I was beginning to fear that you had taken a sacred vow of silence. One that only applies to me, of course.”

He scoffed and took a sip of the wine, ignoring your comment. Despite his attempts to pretend you didn’t exist, you did not miss the way his body tensed as you sat down on the arm of the chair.

“Your Valyrian has improved.” Improved was an understatement. His accent was perfect.

Aemond shook his head and downed the drink before rising to his feet. “‘Tis impolite to enter one’s chambers without first knocking,” he said, his back to you.

The hostility was less amusing now and increasingly annoying. “You’ve grown bitter,” you narrowed your eyes at him from where you were seated.

He turned to face you and cocked his head to the side, “I’d like to think I’ve grown honest.”

“It was unnecessary,” you said, referring to his toast.

He smirked when he caught on to what you were talking about. “It was fun.”

You cracked a smile at that and Aemond’s lip twitched, his eye gleaming. Slowly, you pushed yourself off the chair and walked closer to him. He didn’t even flinch when you came so close that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you.

“You don’t talk as much you used to,” you whispered, your tone sad “You don’t smile either.”

He seemed so…guarded. He was looking at you like you were some kind of predator that he had to protect himself from. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but feared how he might react.

“Much has changed,” he said with the tiniest shrug, “It has been six years.”

Six years of yearning, you wanted to say.

Time had passed, it was true, but that did not explain why he felt so far from you. Or why he’d been ignoring you since you arrived. Bonds like the one you shared are not so easily damaged, nor broken.

“You have changed,” you said, eyeing him in the least discreet way possible.

He too drank you in unashamedly, taking his time from the bottom of your embroidered silk dress, to the top of your silvery-white, curly hair, before finally meeting your gaze. He looked seconds away from saying something, or doing something, but then he caught himself and shook his head.

“As have you,” he chose to say instead. The words came out steady, but when you glanced down, his fists were clenched tight. You reached out to take his hand and he moved back.

"Why are you being like this?" you snapped, though you never raised your voice, "What have I done to upset you?"

He was taken aback by your straightforward question. His plan had been to maintain a wary distance from you until you left again. He did not want to dig into memories of the past...but he couldn't deny you answers when you looked at him with such desperate and confused eyes.

He licked his lips and confessed two words, "You left."

You stepped back in surprise. That was it? Of all the things you may have done to earn such a cold reception from him, leaving him all those years ago never once crossed your mind.

"What?" you practically spluttered.

“You abandoned me,” he reiterated.

“Aemond, you can’t possibly be angry with me over that,” you smiled nervously though you were confused, “You must know I had no intention of leaving you.”

His voice was measured, unemotional. “And yet, you did.”

“I was a child. I could not have prevented them from taking me anymore than you could have.”

He was unconvinced and looked away from you.

“Aemond.”

He didn't respond.

“Aemond, would you look at me.” You grabbed his chin to force him into facing you. With reluctance, he met your gaze.

“My mother had just died. And seeing you hurt that night, pained me more than standing at her funeral,” you whispered it like a dark secret, “That is how deeply I care for you.”

Aemond was stubborn – more so than you – but his features softened at your admission.

The day he woke to find that you had left was the worst pain he had ever felt. He'd been inconsolable for weeks, even attempting to fly Vhagar to Dragonstone and bring you home. But when the tears dried and the irrational thoughts quieted, Aemond came to understand what he had to do to move on. He chose to forget the things he had lost. He chose to forget you.

Despite what you’ve admitted, you do not look away from him shyly, or run away in embarrassment. You keep your gaze steady so that he knows your heart is true.

Your voice trembles slightly as you lower your hand from his chin and ask, “Do you understand?”

He hesitates before nodding slowly. Not once since the day you left had he allowed himself to imagine that you might say anything like that. He spent years hating that you were his weakness. Resenting the fact that years later, he still felt the ache of missing you when he lay in bed at night and you were not there beside him.

And even though he successfully hid his true feelings from everyone else, he could never fool himself.

“I’ve often thought about that night,” he muttered so quietly that it was as if he was speaking to himself, “When I do, this,” he points to his eye patch, “is not the loss I mourn. It is you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

“You cared for me?”

“I breathed for you,” he said, then dropped his gaze to the floor in embarrassment, “I fear I still do.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, "Aemond, why would that be something to fear?"

He looked up from the ground and met your eyes with an intensity that made your smile falter. Your heart began to race as he took a step closer, and almost instinctively you moved to him.

He raised a hand to the side of your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. Then he let his hand fall to your cheek where he stroked it gently and lightly brushed your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You sighed and leaned into his touch, raising a hand to his and holding it just where he cradled your face.

"I fear it," he started as he looked over your face, committing every detail of it to his memory, "because you will not stay. And you are not mine."

"Now is not then," you whispered, "If you want me, Aemond...then I am yours."

With that, he leaned down, his lips hovering over yours as he paused to take in your scent – sweet and earthy – before capturing them in a kiss. He knew that after this there was no returning to what once was. There would be no 'forgetting' this time. He knew this, and he eagerly accepted it.

His hands gripped your waist. You pulled him closer, wanting – no, needing to disappear into him. His scent, his touch, his kiss. It was dizzying, euphoric, and you fell into him happily.

"We must stop," you breathed between kisses, "Anyone could find us."

Aemond didn't respond as he chased your lips fervently.

"We must stop," you repeated, this time gently pushing away from him. You stopped to gather your thoughts, one hand pressed against his heaving chest. You could not look at him, no. If you did, you feared you would not leave this room again.

"We ought to return to the table," you said as you began walking to the door, "You and I have been gone for too long, they will begin to search for us."

You waited by the door until you heard Aemond's footsteps follow behind you. He stopped beside you, one hand on the door handle.

"You'll stay this time," the familiar lilt at the end of a question being asked was missing, but the hesitance in his voice and the pleading look in his eye showed he was asking.

You slipped your hand into his, just as you had done so many times as children, and with conviction answered, "I promise."

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By the time you returned to the dinner table, most of the food had already been cleared away. Luke, Jace and your sisters were dressed in their cloaks and being escorted outside by the guards while your father and Rhaenyra spoke to Alicent and Otto.

You shared a confused glance with Aemond before approaching the four.

“What is happening?”

Your father's head snapped up at the sound of your voice. “Come,” he motioned you over, “Your things are already in the carriage outside.”

“In the carriage?” you frowned, “What for? Where are we going?”

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, "Back to Dragonstone."

“But we've only just arrived,” you chuckled, "Why the hurry to leave?"

An answer was not given, but Rhaenyra's quick glance over your shoulder to Aemond said it all.

“We never intended to stay long,” she offered instead.

Your father motioned you over once again, “Say your farewells then go and get Senryr.”

The request came out like a man ordering his pup to fetch his shoe. He had no sympathy for the position he was forcing you into yet again, and did not care to pretend to show compassion to you. His daughter. It did nit make you sad, it made you angry.

“No.”

Daemon reacted as though you had just slapped him across the cheek.

“What?”

You stepped back to stand by Aemond's side. “I said no,” you repeated, jutting out your chin, “You cannot make me leave, Father. Not again.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I am not asking, Y/N,” he spoke slowly, “You will do as I say.”

It used to terrify you when he spoke in that intimidating tone, even though you knew your father would never harm you.

Perhaps that knowledge is what gave you the courage to say, “I am not leaving.”

Daemon was not often challenged, especially not by his children. He'd known from a young age that of all his children, you had inherited the worst of his temper. Your defiance was not only aggravating, it was insulting.

He stepped towards you, but before he could take another, Aemond moved in front of you protectively. The bold action stunned everyone in the room — including yourself.

Aemond was a good few decades younger than Daemon and therefore little challenge to your father. His wordless threat only indicated one of three things: stupidity, arrogance, or...

You ignored the suspicious looks thrown between you and Aemond as you placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it gently. He broke his stare down with your father and looked down at you. Upon seeing the pleading look in your eyes, he stepped back to your side but remained close enough that your arm was still brushing against his.

Daemon was seething. He could see what was happening right before his eyes. Many years back when you'd refused to return to Dragonstone, it was because of Aemond. All those proposals you had turned down were because of Aemond. Even your excitement to return to King's Landing – it was because of Aemond.

He'd known all along, but he'd never spoken it aloud, thinking it beneath him to even entertain the idea that his eldest daughter cared for a Hightower – be him Targaryen or not. But how could he ignore it when it was being thrown in his face like this?

"He," he nodded his head to Aemond, "is the reason you want to remain here?"

Rhaenyra quickly stepped in to diffuse the situation. "There is no need for this," she looked directly at you as she spoke before turning to Alicent, "I will see the children back to Dragonstone, then I shall return on dragon back."

That barely seemed to satisfy Daemon. And if Rhaenyra was suggesting that she could return and convince you to leave, she would be in for a surprise. Alicent was the only one who seemed happy with this solution. She embraced Rhaenyra with a regretful smile as Daemon walked towards you.

Your body stiffened as he approached. He glared at Aemond before looking down to address you, "You may not have to choose today, but you will soon."

He gave you a long look before placing his hand on the hilt of Dark Sister and turning to leave the room. Deep down, you knew he was right. Your Uncle was fading fast, and once he was gone, lines would be drawn and sides would have to be chosen. You only hoped that you had some time before then.

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It was difficult to part with your sisters after growing so close over the years. You would miss not having them around, but you knew they would never stay. They still hated Aemond for what happened that fateful night years ago, and neither could understand why or how you were able to forgive him. You didn't know how to tell them that to you, there had been nothing to forgive.

You remained by Aemond's side as Alicent showed you to your chambers, each of you like the other's shadow. Alicent was walking ahead of you and when she noticed you trailing behind, she stopped and turned to look at you both.

She raised a brow as she looked between you. "Aemond, I believe your room is down the other way," she pointed to the hallway leading in the opposite direction to where you were heading.

Aemond glanced at the hallway, then to you, and back to his mother. He seemed lost.

She ushered him away, "You may have spent your younger years sleeping in each others' beds, but there will be no more of that."

He nodded once and gave you a final look before walking off to his own chambers. You followed Alicent to the end of the hall where you parted ways at your room.

She was barely gone two minutes when you heard a knock at the door. You knew who it was before you even opened it. Aemond stood there under your door frame, his shoulders hunched slightly, no doubt feeling guilty for defying his mother.

You didn't say a word, you simply stepped aside to let him in. He kicked the door closed with his foot and moved closer, his knuckles brushing against the back of your hand.

"I want to sleep here with you. If you'll have me."

You turned and walked to a table at the other end of the room. You removed your bracelets, earrings and necklace and placed them on the table. Brushing your hair to the side, you looked over your shoulder at Aemond.

"Can you help me with these laces?"

He looked unsure at first before following you. His fingers trailed along your hip before finding the two laces and undoing them for you. There was a pause as he debated what to do next, then he stepped away and sat down on your bed just by your pillow.

You chuckled to yourself at his level of restraint and removed the sleeves of your dress, letting it fall to your feet. Stepping out of the dress, you could feel Aemond’s eyes on you as you removed the pins and ties in your hair and placed them on the table by your jewellery. There was no seduction in your actions. You were simply undressing, and he was simply watching you do it.

When you turned to look at Aemond, he had already kicked off his shoes and was now leaning against your headboard. He sat up when he saw you approaching, his gaze never wavering. There was so much love in his eyes, but it didn't make you shy, it made your heart race. You stopped when you were standing between his legs, resting your arms on his shoulders.

“How come you let your hair grow so long?” you asked as you ran your hand through his long, white locks. He didn’t answer, however. His eye was focused on something else.

His hand slid the hem of your slip higher up your thigh as his brow furrowed in concern. “What caused this?” he asked as he traced his fingers over two jagged scars on your knee and up your thigh.

“Senryr,” you sighed at the feeling of his touch, “She clawed me when I went to claim her. Tore my favourite dress to shreds.”

“Why did you go alone?” he asked, tracing higher to the very tip of the scar on your hip, “She could have killed you.”

You smiled as you looked down at him. “You claimed Vhagar alone,” he looked up at you as you gently stroked his jaw with your finger, “Perhaps if you’d been there to teach me, she never would have hurt me.”

He laughed then. A low, quiet one, but a laugh nonetheless. It lit up his entire face and made his eye sparkle. You felt your heart swell at seeing him so happy, so content.

You climbed over him and into the bed, slipping underneath the blanket, "Are you going to undress?"

He shook his head and climbed in after you, "I'm comfortable like this."

He lay facing you, his arm resting on your waist as he drew circles on the small of your back over your satin slip. You raised a hand to his cheek and touched the bottom of his scar.

"It wounded me when you ignored me today," you said to distract yourself from the question you wanted to ask.

Aemond chuckled, "That was the intention when I did it."

You rolled your eyes and giggled, but your gaze returned to his eyepatch. What did it look like under there? Aemond noticed your furrowed brows and understood what was playing on your mind.

Your hand hovered over the eyepatch, "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded quickly, and removed it before he could change his mind.

A deep blue gem in the place where his left eye used to be. A sapphire, glimmering in the candlelight.

"Beautiful," you whispered absentmindedly as you stroked his cheek just below the sapphire eye.

He softened and pulled you closer to him, placing a light kiss on your lips. You curled into him and tucked your head under his chin, releasing a deep sigh.

Aemond's hand found yours under the blankets, and he smiled when you threaded your fingers together. There wasn't much he wanted to say. He just needed to be here with you, listening to your quiet breathing and feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye x reader #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #aemond fic #aemond targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower

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temporalbystander · 1 year

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The one with Alya salt

Well I'm doing this to say screw TA. May as well prove I don't think I'm any better. Here is the story based on the summary that still holds my brain hostage. Sorry in advance Flight, please don't read this.

The first time Alya and Adrien got together Marinette had been inconsolable. Faybon went after her only to find Tikki holding the earrings and looking incredibly upset. She'd been akumatised and, despite Faybon doing what he could to keep Tikki safe, it wasn't long before Chat Noir lay defeated. Alright, maybe Faybon took a little too much joy in Adrien's utter despair when he realised exactly why Ladybug wasn't coming to fix his mistakes this time. And maybe he could have actually worn the earrings and transformed like Tikki begged him too at one point. Still, he knew he couldn't let this go any further lest he risk Hawk Moth winning and doing something Bunnyx couldn't reverse. So, Faybon did the only thing he could do in this situation, he had Tikki distract the Akuma while he ran to Chat Noir, cataclysm still burning with its destructive energy. Poor kitty didn't even notice when it was pressed against Faybon's head, killing him near instantly.

The second time the two got together was just after they graduated Francois Dupont. Maybe that was the wrong way of putting it. After all, Alya and Nino were still a couple, it had just been a sex thing at first. Then they invited Marinette and, while she agreed just to be with Adrien, Faybon could see there was a part of her that was upset they wouldn't be each other's firsts. Naturally, Faybon was upset and confronted Alya about it only to be brushed off saying it was all taken care of and at least they were together now right? Needless to say, Faybon snapped. Even watching it back Bunnyx couldn't tell if it was the Akuma that made him wrap his hands around Alya's neck or if it was his own choice. Either way, when he did turn, he became the second Akuma the time traveler became terrified of. Considering Chat Blanc was the first and had completely annihilated Paris, the moon and had threatened to wipe out the universe? Faybon did not want to see the rest of that story.

The third time Alya and Adrien got together Faybon knew what to look out for. He dragged the two of them to the top of the Eiffel Tower and asked them flat out what was going on. After admitting the truth, they didn't have any time to explain themselves or make excuses before Faybon turned and jumped. It was at that point that Bunnyx decided not to inform Faybon about these particular resets, and there were definitely more to come.

The majority of them ended up with either Marinette or Faybon akumatised, others had Ladybug so upset that she wasn't able to focus and, when she tried to turn to Chat for comfort only to find out he had moved on? She gave up. Chat Noir tried to keep up the fight on his own but it couldn't last, they were a team and had only managed so far because they were a good one. Those timelines always needed to be reset before Hawk Moth got his hands on the ring and could make his wish otherwise there was nothing Bunnyx could do.

The one time they'd managed to win, to beat HawkMoth and retrieve Nooru and Dusuu, Chat Noir was heartbroken to find out it was his father behind all this and the reason why. He had reached out to Ladybug then, just as he detransformed, only for her to turn away and tell him to go cry to his girlfriend. Then she left, the other two Miraculous in tow, before her own transformation ended. Adrien did tell Alya, and she did comfort him, but the coldness he felt from his lady had hurt more than he ever could have imagined. About a week later Chloe was the one who spilled the beans on Marinette leaving for New York, finally taking her mother up on the offer. Chloe was obviously upset but the rest of the class was ecstatic to find out she was chasing her dreams. At least they were until they found out just how soon she was leaving, and that she hadn't been planning to tell them.

Faybon was the one who saved her there. Explaining how she wasn't sure she would be able to leave all her friends behind if they'd decided to throw her a going away party. Of course that didn't mean he wasn't going to tell them and had intended to do so once he'd gotten her agreement to meet him somewhere the night before she had to leave. The party was still epic and they still encouraged Marinette to go, even meeting her at the airport to see her off. Nobody noticed her earrings were missing and, if they had, she would have told them they were in luggage with the rest of her jewelry.

Marinette had handed the miracle box to Faybon to look after, despite his insistence that she take it with her. That, if getting it to New York was the problem, she could just take Kaalki with her and use her powers to come back and grab them. That's when she told him he was going to look after Tikki too. He managed to convince her to at least keep the earrings until she left, or rather to tell Ladybug to hold onto the earrings, and for the kwamis to stay with her since they already knew how to hide in her room anyway. Besides, he was going to need something other than a sewing kit to keep the box in, it would look incredibly suspicious in his room after all. That had gotten Marinette to laugh at least.

Time passed and Ladybug told Chat that they weren't needed anymore so, while she wouldn't be asking for the ring back, he needed to be aware that they weren't going to meet again. Once again Chat asked who she was but she only smiled sadly and said "Ladybug" before leaving. When it came time to hand over the earrings she hesitated, Faybon said she could still keep them but she shook her head and said she didn't know what he'd think when he found out who Ladybug really was. Faybon just rolled his eyes saying, if that's all it was, then she could have Tikki bring them over, or he could meet the kwami in Marinette's room.

When she still hesitated, Faybon let out a sigh and hugged her. He promised that, should there ever be a sign of trouble that needed Ladybug herself, he'd put on Kaalki and go straight to New York to give Tikki back. Marinette dropped the transformation before returning the hug, tears in her eyes. She didn't ask how long he'd known, it didn't seem to matter, she was just grateful he knew how much they meant to her. That didn't stop him from bringing the kwamis to the airport in order to see her off as well. She was still the guardian after all, there were too many happy memories for her to want to give that up, and no way Faybon was going to let her.

Time passed and everyone went their own way, still keeping in contact as much as possible. Every week Faybon would use Fluff to hand out the kwamis to their holders so they could all hang out together for the day, he would have used Kaalki but that would have caused trouble getting Pegasus and would require a lot of apple slices while they were still young. Fluff, on the other hand, didn't have a one time only limit and allowed the holders to get around any schedules they had set up for the day, once they consented to wearing a blindfold at least.

Afterwards he'd send the kwamis to Marinette. That took a little more finesse. First he'd transform with Kaalki and send Fluff through. A few hours later he'd open the portal again and get Fluff back. Then he'd transform with Fluff, rewind time back to just before he opened the portal and send the kwamis directly to New York via the burrow. Then he'd fast forward until the portal opened again and Fluff left before gathering the kwamis again. That happened twice before Marinette asked why he didn't just come through the portal with Kaalki and spend the time there? Suffice to say, he really felt stupid after that.

Faybon filled her in on how things were in Paris, the kwamis told her what they got up to with their holders and Tikki filled her in on how Plagg and Chat Noir were doing. In return Marinette told them all about how things were going with her designs, what the heroes were getting up to and the time she spent with Aeon and Jess. Even brought up how Sparrow wanted her to use a new Miraculous briefly but turned her down. She was still Ladybug, with or without the earrings, and it didn't feel right using another Miraculous. This then led into a discussion of other Miracle Boxes and guardians and whether it would be possible to meet up with those kwamis as well, something Tikki and the others hadn't really done since they were first made.

Overall this timeline would have been fine, it wasn't the complete happy ending it could have been but everything could have stayed on track. Faybon would have akumatised TimeTagger and sent him back to the past so none of that changed, he would have brought Marinette back with Kaalki and then given her Fluff to give to Alex so that Bunnyx would still exist and everything would be fine. All except one thing, Duusu. With no need, or desire, to create a sentimonster, Faybon would be unable to sense amoks. This meant that Adrien and Kagami would never discover their true nature and never truly be free from those who knew the truth. So, as sad as it was, once she made that discovery, Bunnyx needed to reset the timeline again. After all, with Adrien keeping a hold on Plagg, letting the knowledge of his amok remain secret was way too dangerous.

Sure she could have told Faybon and things might have worked out but the time traveler wasn't sure she trusted him. Sure Bunnyx knew that he would do whatever she asked to keep the timeline on track, even if he didn't like the constant interruptions, but something about Alya had always rubbed him the wrong way. Knowing that Adrien was a sentimonster and that the amok controlling him was in the rings she wore around her neck? Honestly she wouldn't be surprised if he assumed Alya already knew and was doing it on purpose. He'd probably akumatise himself if that were to happen.

Looking through the timeline once again, hoping that she could catch a glimpse of what the future held, or maybe whatever it was that served to piss him off to begin with, eventually she had to give it up as a lost cause. Especially when neither Marinette or Faybon moved on. Marinette even refused to come to the wedding, stating business issues. Which, while completely legitimate, as Adrien was quick to point out, still prompted a grumble from the bride to be about best friends and secrets. Needless to say, Faybon promptly walked out of the cafe where the group was meeting up. This prompted another eye roll before Rose pointed out that he left his invitation behind. Something that Adrien tried to return in person only to be pulled into a hug and told how oblivious he was.

And that was more or less how it ended. Faybon did cave to Adrien's pleading but refused to be part of the main table or the ceremony in any way. After that though, the one other person who still liked him both inside and outside the mask drifted away and, thanks to him being a paradox, was slowly forgotten about. Bunnyx had had enough at that point and rewound until years before they attended lycee. Finding little Adrien out and about on a snowy day she nudged a little pile of slush off the roof so that it landed on his head. It wouldn't change his personality but instead reinforced his desire to cover up. Which would lessen the chance of Alya finding herself physically attracted to the model before she got trapped with Nino.

With a final sigh Bunnyx sat back and watched as multiple timelines rapidly became overwritten. Who knows, maybe this time Faybon wouldn't hate Alya so much. Or at least she could figure out why, dealing with that issue would make her job so much easier. She wished she could bring him in and ask though but that had also ended a few timelines so was no longer a good idea. She did miss the popcorn he made though.

#miraculous oc #miraculous ladybug #faybon tules #my writing #alya salt #Alyadrien salt #tw: suidice #tw violence

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folklorelise · 3 years

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That one time he said “you’re not my mother” & “I love you”

That one time they said, “you’re not my mother!” and that one time they said “I love you” — I decided to combine these two because I found it was too short otherwise :) enjoy

MASTERLIST

Eren Yaeger:

Most of the time, when Eren and Jean were fighting, it was in a friendly way – always bickering like siblings which is way if Levi or you were there, you would never get involved.

That is why when that one time they were fighting – for real – you and Levi arrived too late. Eren received a punch on his face and Jean had his arm broken. When you two noticed what was happening, you quickly run to where they were and separated them. Mikasa and you were restraining Eren while Levi took Jean away.

“Eren, you’re bleeding. Let’s go.” you told him before bringing him with you. “Mikasa, can you and the others stay here with Kuchel please?”

“Of course.”

When you arrived in your office, you took out your first aid kit and cleaned one of his wounds, and then stitched it up.

“What happened?” you asked Eren when you were done with the stitches.

“Nothing.”

“Well, you both ended up hurting each other so no, it was not nothing.” you argued.

“Whatever.” Eren mumbled.

“Eren! This is serious.” you raised your voice, “Jean was hurt–.”

“So was I! Why is it always everything about Jean with you? Oh right! He is your favourite after all.”

“This is not what we’re talking about right now. This is about you two being childish. Yes, you were hurt but Jean is not a titan, he can’t heal overnight. I don’t know why the fight started and I don’t want to because I’m sure it was for a ridiculous reason anyway.”

Eren was still on his nerves and he knew if he said anything, he would regret it – so he just kept quiet and stared at his shoes.

“You really don’t have anything to say?” you sighed. “Eren–, you should apologise. Both of–.”

“STOP! Stop pretending to care about me if all you want is go and check on Jean. Stop pretending you care about me at all – just, stop.”

“Eren–.” your voice quavered.

“And stop acting like my mother because you’re not. So, just leave me alone!” Eren yelled because storming out.

When you found Levi in his office, he was doing some paperwork with Kuchel on his lap.

“How did it go with Eren?” Levi asked you without looking up.

“Hm… not great.” you whimpered.

As soon as Levi heard your voice, he looked up and saw that your eyes were still red and puffy. He put Kuchel on the ground and came to embrace you. You continued to cry in his arms, putting your head on his shoulder.

“What happened?” Levi asked worried.

Levi did not insist on it when you refused to talk about it. Levi asked Sasha, Connie, and Jean to take care of Kuchel the rest of the day so he could spend the day with you.

You spend the day in your bedroom, switching between crying and sleeping. Levi stayed with you the whole time, with you clinging on him. After a few hours, you finally started to calm down and were ready to talk.

“Eren said that… it sounds ridiculous actually,” you tried to laugh, “he said that I wasn’t his mother which is true, I’m not.” you explained. “Is it weird? That I’m hurt because I consider Eren, and all of them, as one of my own children?”

“Eren’s an idiot. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” Levi tried to reassure you.

Eren, on his side, went back to his room and stayed there for the rest of the day. After he calmed down and realised what he said to you, he started to regret it. He did not mean any of the words he said to you.

For the next few days, whenever you and Eren would see each other, you would just walk away. You did not know what to say to Eren, therefore you just decided to avoid him which is something everyone noticed. Eren really wanted to talk to you, he wanted to apologise but with you constantly walking away, it was impossible. Eren decided he would ask the captain’s help.

“I know she probably told you what happened.” Eren told Levi when he went to his office, “I just want to apologise, please?”

“Fine. She’s with Kuchel in our room.” Levi thought. “Then go and clean the stable!”

“Thank you.”

Eren run to your bedroom and went in without knocking. He found you reading a story to Kuchel and hesitated a second before calling your name.

“Eren!” you shouted surprised.

“I’m sorry, it’s just – I know you wouldn’t have opened the door.” Eren explained. “Mom,” Eren started before breaking down crying, “I’m sorry, please don’t ignore me anymore.”

“No cry.” Kuchel shouted, “ma-ma kiss, no cry.” she pulled your sleeve.

“Please don’t hate me.” Eren whispered.

“I could never hate you.” you said before hugging him.

Eren hold you so tightly that you could barely move.

“It’s ok,” you reassured him, “I could never hate one of my kids.” you admitted.

“So, you’re not mad right?”

“I’m not. It’s ok.” you patted his back.

“I didn’t mean.” Eren added, “I didn’t mean any of it.” Eren paused before adding “because I love you mom. I do.”

“Eren,” you smiled, “I love you too.”

“Lowe ma-ma me!” Kuchel shouted because you and Eren were too far away from her.

“I’m going to go now.” Eren said, “I still have cleaning duty.”

Eren left, and a sigh of relief left your mouth. Having him directly tell you that he did not mean it was a relief.

Jean Kirstein:

Levi had been thinking about having Jean to replace him as captain in a few years or even make him squad leader. Jean obviously proved himself to be a great leader – there was no excuse not to promote him to a higher rank. He never talked about that to anyone though, particularly not to you because he knew how worried you would be. After some time, Levi decided he would talk about it with Erwin.

“Are you telling me this because you want to retire?” Erwin asked him.

“No. I don’t to retire right now.”

“Okay.” Erwin took a moment to process what Levi just told him, “What did Y/N say?”

“Nothing.” Levi casually answered.

“Really?”

“I didn’t tell her anything yet.”

“Oh… Well, I don’t see any problems in making Jean a captain now or in a few years. He has a good sense of leadership. I think that’s a great idea.” Erwin stated.

“Bur?” Levi asked expecting Erwin to continue.

“No ‘but’, just…” Erwin took a deep breath, smiling slightly, “really excited to see Y/N’s reaction.”

“She’ll love that.”

After a few days, Levi decided to call you in his office at the same time as Jean to announce the big news he had. When Jean and you arrived, he sat down at his desk before explaining why he asked to see you.

“You grew up and learned a lot these past few months and years. You have every quality to make a great captain or even squad leader.”

“Oh,” Jean blushed, “thank you, but why are you telling me this?”

“I talked about it with Erwin, and he agrees with me that–.”

“Wait.” you cut Levi in his sentence, “are you seriously trying to make Jean captain right now?” you asked dumbstruck.

“If he wants, yes.”

“What?” you laughed nervously. “No! It’s… he’s a child! This is too much responsibility and pression for him.” you argued. “Jean,” you turned around to face him, “you’re not–.”

“Y/N,” Levi cut you, “he’s not a child anymore. You know how skilled he is on the field so why are you doing this?”

“Because being a captain is too much pressure! You are responsible for everything! Yes, it includes victories, but also every death of your friends and squad members.” you rumbled, “Jean, you’re not… you can’t do this. I refuse.”

“Y/N–.” Levi started but was cut short by Jean.

“You’re not my mother!” Jean yelled, “you don’t have the right to decide for me!” he added before leaving the room.

Silence prevailed in the room. Then suddenly you started to sob violently and collapsed on the ground. Levi slowly approached you and wrapped you in his arms.

“It’s ok.” Levi whispered, “he didn’t mean it.”

You spent the rest of the day in bed, regretting everything you previously said to Jean. Levi stayed beside you, trying to calm you down but it was not successful. At night, Levi decided to pay Jean a visit to see if he calmed down. When he knocked on Jean’s door, he heard a quiet ‘come in’. Jean was curled up on himself on his bed, with his blanket over him.

“I’m sorry.” Jean sobbed. “I– I.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me.” Levi said. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll come and apologise to Y/N because no one can understand you in this state.” Levi referred to his sobbing. “She’s sorry too, just so you know.”

Then, Levi came back to you and saw that you calmed down a bit, but he knew you were hurt. It was not the first time that one of the kids told you that. When Eren did, you were inconsolable and did stayed in bed for a few days.

The next day, Jean was up really early. He came in your office and waited for you inside, sitting on the couch. He waited a few hours, but you still were not there. You were eating breakfast and played a bit with Kuchel. When you finally walked in your office, you found Jean asleep on your couch. You took the blanket you kept for you at night and delicately put it on Jean, which did not work since he instantly woke up.

“Mom!” Jean said surprised and then immediately looked away.

Neither one of you knew what to say. You sat on the table in front of his, while he was still standing awkwardly.

“I’m sorry!” you both shouted at the same time.

“No!” Jean quickly added, “I didn’t– I didn’t mean it because it’s not true. You are. You are my mom and… I’m sorry, please don’t hate me.” Jean finished his sentence trying to hold his tears back.

“I– I’m sorry too.” you apologised and walked to him to hug him, “I’m sorry because I think you would make a great captain.” you tried to smile. “You are really talented, and it would be a waste not to make you captain.”

“No, if you’re not happy I don’t–.”

“I am happy, I was just scared.” you admitted. “You… you are my child and seeing you all grown-up and taking responsibilities… is terrifying. I don’t want to you to go through what Levi, and I did when we lost–.” you suddenly stopped, not wanting to talk about how many friends you all loss.

“I thought that you refused because you didn’t think I was good enough.” Jean admitted.

“You are good enough. You are more than that. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I’m sorry too.” Jean repeated.

Jean was always the first one to volunteer to take care of Kuchel when neither you nor Levi could. He loved spending time with her. He grew up without siblings, so since he saw you and Levi like his parents, Kuchel was like his little sister.

“Jean, thank you for doing this.” you gave him Kuchel, “Levi and I will be back in a few hours.”

“No problem, have a safe trip!”

Jean brought Kuchel back to his room and let her play with her toys. In the meantime, Armin, Eren and Mikasa came to see Kuchel too. Sasha and Connie came later on and stayed with Jean to play with Kuchel.

“Ja!” Kuchel screamed when she saw that Jean stopped playing with her.

“What did you say?” Jean asked shocked.

“Ja.” Kuchel pointed at Jean.

“That’s my name.” Jean said happily, “can you guys believe it?” he said to his friends.

“Oh, come on,” Connie replied, “It could be anything else.”

After trying to make Kuchel repeat it a few times, which was a failure, Sasha and Connie left Jean alone since they had cleaning duties to do before the Captain came back.

“I know you said my name earlier, even though you won’t repeat, it’s fine.”

“Ma-ma?” Kuchel asked.

“She’ll be back soon don’t worry.” Jean started to clean her toys. “You know, you’re very lucky to have them as your parents. They are awesome. I love them. I mean mom– no, da– no– I mean they’re great, you know?” Jean explained as if Kuchel could understand. “Never mind.”

Jean realised what he just said and started to think about if he should tell you or not. On one hand, he wanted to because he wanted you to know how much he appreciated you being there for him, but on the other hand, it was embarrassing.

“Kirstein.” Levi called him when he found him. “I still have to go and see Erwin so drop Kuchel to Y/N.” Levi told him.

“Da-da!” Kuchel yelled happily.

Levi kissed her before leaving. Jean walked to your office and knocked on the door.

“Yes?”

“It’s me, Jean.”

“Come in.” you said, “Kuchel, hiii.” you hold your baby. “How was the day with her?” you asked Jean.

“Good. It was good.” Jean answered. “I have to mh… go. Sasha and Connie, they’re… they need me.”

“Oh, okay, thank–.”

“I love you, bye mom!” Jean said before left running.

“Ja lowe ma-ma.”

When Levi came back to your office, he found you sitting on the couch looking at the ceiling.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Jean just said he loves me. I can’t believe all my children are now opening to me now.” you pretended to cry. “Also, Kuchel just said Jean’s nam.”

“What?”

“Here, take Kuchel because I have to go and see Jean.”

“Ja!”

“Why?” Levi asked.

“He ran away before I could say anything.”

“A weirdo,” Levi looked at Kuchel, “the first name you said had to be his…”

“You always pretend to be annoyed by him, when I know for a fact you lo–.”

“Not listening, bye.” Levi closed the door before you could finish.

When you went to Jean’s room, he was obviously not here. Therefore, you just decided to take a piece of paper and then put it on his pillow.

When Jean came back to his room, he found a little piece of saying “I love you my boy, you didn’t have to run away.” And it was signed “Mom”.

Armin Arlet:

Armin’s new job was to teach the new cadets the expeditions’ strategy. When new cadets arrived in the survey corps, they were always surprised at how often Armin, Eren, Jean and Mikasa would call you ‘mom’ which ended up being their favourite topic during the day.

As usual, Armin would be early, waiting for the new soldiers to arrive. A group of friends were already there, talking way too loudly.

“You heard that too right?” one of them asked.

“Heard what?” another one asked.

“How the captain’s squad calls squad leader Y/N ‘mom’.”

“Yeah and?”

“Oh, come on. She obviously isn’t their real mom.”

“She isn’t?”

“Are you stupid? Anyway, I think that’s weird. I mean she has her own kid, right?”

Their discussion was cut short by other people arriving. Armin pretended he did not hear them and taught his class professionally. Near the end of the class, you decided to come so you could see if everything went well. You quietly took a place and watched until the end. When Armin was over, you walked to him started to congratulate him.

“Armin, you are a natural at this. That was really great!” you hugged him.

At the back, the group of friends who was talking about Armin and you earlier started to laugh, which Armin noticed. Armin immediately stepped away from you.

“Wh–.” you started.

“Stop doing that, you’re not my mother.” Armin stated loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Stop acting like my mother please.”

Every news cadets were looking at you both – the room was silent. Armin instantly regretted was he said and wanted to apologise but you just forced a smiled and left. You went to Levi’s office, who was with Kuchel.

“Hey. How was–.” Levi started to ask but stopped when he saw you trying to hold back yours tears.

“Armin said it. In front of so many people – it was… horrible.” you cried.

“Ma-ma?” Kuchel crawled towards you.

Levi stood up and came to hug you while Kuchel was grasping on your leg.

“Y/N, they never mean it.” Levi reassured you.

“But…” you shook your head, “there was so many people watching us! No, they were staring at us.”

“Do you want me to go and talk to Armin?”

“No! It’s fine.” you sighed. “I mean… at this rate I’m used to it now.” you tried to laugh it up, but just ended up continuing sobbing.

“Ma-ma no cry!” Kuchel tried to comfort you.

“I’m not.” you smiled picking her up.

Levi and you spend the day playing with Kuchel – you tried to forget what Armin said and Levi wanted you not to think about it too much. Playing with Kuchel was one of the solutions. When it was time to eat, Levi suggested that he should just brought the food so you could eat in his office.

While Levi was gone, you gave Kuchel her toys and went to the bathroom. When you came back, Armin was playing with Kuchel.

“Armin. Hey.”

“Hey.” Armin mumbled. “Mh, I knocked on the door, but no one answered.”

“It’s ok.”

After a few minutes of silence, Levi entered the room with the food and stopped when he saw Armin. Levi looked at you and put the food on his desk.

“Do you need me to stay?” Levi whispered.

“Can you come back in ten minutes with Kuchel please?”

“Yeah.” Levi took Kuchel and left.

“I’m sorry about what I said.” Armin apologised looking at his feet. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! I never should’ve said it on front of these people. I never should’ve said anything at all because it’s not true. I don’t think that.”

“Then why did you? Because… It’s just that these past few weeks, I,” you sighed loudly, “I heard that a lot…”

“Mom…” Armin frowned before hugging you. “I’m sorry.”

When you asked Armin what made him say it, he just avoided the question, saying that it was not important. Then, Levi came back so Armin left. He asked you what Armin had said, you told him that Armin did not say much.

A few days passed and you started to forget about that incident, but Levi wanted to know why it happened in the first place. That was why he asked Armin to meet him in his office one morning.

“What happened that morning?” Levi asked him.

Armin instantly knew what he was talking about and immediately looked away.

“I–.” Armin hesitated.

“No need to lie to me. I’ll know and you would just be wasting our time.”

“I heard people talking.” Armin whispered weakly. “They were saying things… like how weird it was for us to call her ‘mom’. And I thought, maybe that’s true.” Armin explained slowly. “I don’t know, I guess I wanted to show to these people that… it wasn’t true.”

When Armin was done talking, Levi nodded and let Armin leave. Levi never told you because Armin asked him not to. Armin never told anyone else what happened either – it was now their secret.

After that incident where you got badly injured, the cadets were having a hard time at night as well, especially for Armin and Jean who had to witness your body being thrown away. Both of them saw your body falling from a high level without being able to help.

Armin felt guilty because if he were not for him, you never would have got injured. After you woke up, he never really talked with you because of that guilt. You tried to talk to him because you wanted to make sure he was doing great, but every time he saw you, he would just walk away.

He would very often get nightmares too – it would often be about you regretting saving him, about you telling him that he should stop talking to you. He was scared.

“Armin,” Mikasa called him, “are you ok?”

“Yes. Why?” Armin answered absent-minded.

“You don’t look like yourself since… you know. Did you talk to–.”

“No.”

“Go talk to her.” Mikasa advised her friend.

After a few days of doing nothing, Mikasa decided to come to you because she was worried for Armin.

“I think Armin isn’t… He’s not ok.” Mikasa told you one morning.

“He’s been avoiding me I know. I thought giving him some space would be good, but I will talk to him.”

“He’s probably in his room, he’s not going out much.” Mikasa informed you.

“Thank you.”

You walked to Armin’s room and opened it without knocking, knowing if you did, he would have pretended to not be here. Armin was still sleeping, so you took a chair and placed it beside his bed and sat down. You took the book next to his bed and started to read it.

“AAH!” Armin screamed when he woke up.

“Why are you screaming like this in the morning!” you quickly put the book down.

“What– why are you here?” Armina asked hiding under his blanket.

“Mikasa was worried about you, and so was I. Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t.”

“Armin,” you stood up so you could sit on his bed, “Just tell me what has been bothering you.”

“Do you hate me?” Armin asked slowly after a long silence.

“What? No! Why would I?”

“You were hurt because of me. I was careless and–.”

“Armin, I don’t hate you.”

“But you almost–. Because of me…”

“I don’t hate you; I could never hate you. And it was not your fault at all. It was mine; I was careless and I didn’t think before acting.”

“Ok, that’s… good.” then Armin mumbled something else.

“What?” you asked confused.

“I love you mom.” Armin said timidly, looking away.

“I love you too Armin.” you said hugging him. “Get dressed now, I will wait for you in the mess hall.”

“Don’t tell anyone I said that!” Armin screamed when you left.

He was really embarrassed about it, but he was glad he did it. You were glad too, and you did not tell anyone beside Levi – you were too happy to not tell him.

Mikasa Ackerman:

Levi and his squad were training at hand-on-hand combat as usual, only this time, Mikasa was so distracted she ended spraining her ankle. She did not tell anyone and walked on her feet as if nothing happened. Eren noticed though. He noticed how she was putting more weight on her uninjured leg.

“What’s wrong with you?” Eren asked her once they were alone.

“Nothing.”

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Eren insisted.

“Noth–.”

“It’s clearly swollen. Your ankle is twice the size of the other one!”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you tell mom yet?”

“No, why would I?” Mikasa asked.

“Because you’re hurt which means you’re not going tomorrow.”

“We don’t run or walk – I’ll be fine.” Mikasa told him before leaving.

Eren decided if to tell you himself because he knew how stubborn Mikasa was. He found you with Levi in his office.

“Eren, hi!” you greeted him.

“Talk.” Levi said annoyed. “Don’t just stand here silently.”

“She’s hurt but she doesn’t want to tell you. Her ankle, she probably sprained it when we were training. And she wants to go to tomorrow’s expedition like that.”

“Oh, I’ll go and talk to her then.” you told them. “I will be right back.”

You assumed Mikasa would be in her room at this hour, so you went to her bedroom. You knocked on her door and a few seconds, Mikasa opened the door.

“Can I come in?” you smiled.

“Mh, yes.”

You watched Mikasa carefully, but she was good at pretending to be ok. You sat on her bed before making small talk first. You asked her how the training went.

“Fine.”

“Eren told me that you hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.” Mikasa answered coldly.

“If it’s true, I don’t want you to leave tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.” Mikasa repeated irritated.

“Show me your ankle.”

“No.”

“Mikasa.”

“I said I’m fine, so stop. It doesn’t even hurt and if I go to sleep right now, I’ll have enough rest.”

“No. It’ll be worse if you leave tomorrow so you’re not going. That’s an order.” you concluded.

“You’re not my superior!” Mikasa shouted.

“Oh, you think Levi would disagree with me?” you laughed sarcastically.

“Well, you’re not my mother to decide something like this!” Mikasa argued.

“Mik–.”

“No, I- I’m sorry.” Mikasa immediately apologised. “I’m sorry.” Mikasa repeated.

“It’s ok.” you whispered. “It’s ok.”

“I’ll stay here tomorrow.” Mikasa agreed looking down.

“Do you need me to stay here with you tomorrow?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Okay. Then I’ll go now.” you stood up.

“You’re not mad right?” Mikasa asked timidly before you left. “I didn’t mean it, I was just…”

“I’m not,” you turned around, “I know you didn’t mean it.”

Mikasa nodded and you smiled at her before closing the door. When you went back to Levi, Eren was still here as well.

“Mom! What did she say?” Eren asked.

“She’ll stay here.” you reassured Eren, “you can go now.”

“Are you ok?” Levi asked you once Eren left.

“Yes.” you paused a second before repeating, “Yes, I’m ok.”

“Ok.” Levi smiled slightly before walking up to you to kiss you.

After your accident, Mikasa became overprotective of you. When Levi started to work again after a few weeks, he was reluctant to do so because that meant leaving you. Fortunately, Mikasa told him that she would stay and help you until he was over with work.

Mikasa would bring you food and help you with some of your paperwork too.

“How are you feeling today?” Mikasa asked you.

“I’m ok thanks to you. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Mikasa spent an entire week with you and Kuchel. Levi was glad that Mikasa was with you since he knew how serious she was about your safety. One night, when Levi came back pretty late, he found Mikasa sleeping in bed with you while Kuchel was in the middle, still awake. Levi gently took Kuchel and left with her.

“I guess I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.” Levi told Kuchel when he put her to sleep.

When he came back, he noticed that neither one of you had a blanket one you so before going to sleep, he put one on each of you.

In the morning, Mikasa was the first one to wake up. When she realised that she was in your bed, she quickly left the bed so she could leave, but before she could she looked at you and said: “I love you mom.”, thinking you were asleep.

“Mmh, I love you too Mikasa, now go back to sleep.” you mumbled still half asleep.

Mikasa’s eyes widened and left quickly thinking she had dreamt it. Levi was the next one to wake up but decided to continue to sleep next to you when he saw that Mikasa was no longer in the bed.

“Morning.” you said half awake. “Hey. Where did you sleep?”

“Couch.” Levi answered holding you tightly.

“M’sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s ok.”

After you both brushed your teeth and washed your face – you went to eat. Mikasa was already in the mess hall with her friends, and she kept avoiding your gaze.

“What’s the matter with you?” Eren asked Mikasa.

“Nothing.”

“Mom!” Eren yelled, “come eat with us!”

Mikasa ate her breakfast really quickly before leaving. Eren and Armin were confused as much as Levi was. You were confused at first too, but then you remember what Mikasa had said to you before leaving – you excused yourself and went after her. You found her in her room, hiding under her blanket. You sat down and tried to take the blanket off.

“Mikasa come on, don’t be embarrassed.”

“How can I not?”

“Do you want to know a secret?” you waited for an answer but Mikasa did not say a thing, “You’re not the only one who said it so there’s no need to be embarrassed...”

“What?” Mikasa suddenly stood up. “Who did?”

“You know… some of them.” you admitted before leaving as if nothing happened.

“I need to know.” Mikasa murmured to herself.

#attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #squad leader mom au #eren yaeger x squad leader mom #mikasa ackerman x squad leader mom #jean kirstein x squad leader mom #armin arlet x squad leader mom #levi ackerman #armin arlet #mikasa ackerman #eren yaeger #jean kirstein #attack on titan fluff #levi akerman fluff

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nalu4emily · 3 years

Text

Time To Heal

Summary: 'It was a marathon, not a sprint and with each day he spent with her, pretending to act like his normal self, the more he hoped she'd begin to loosen—only time would tell.' What can Natsu do to heal her aching heart? Especially when she's reluctant to tell him what happened.

NALU friendship/ hurt/ comfort.

Please be aware of the trigger warning. Do not read unless 18+. Contains sensitive content.

She was crying again; that much was certain. The sound of sniffles and wet droplets cascading down her cheeks, splattering across the desk she so often sat at, echoed deep into his ears. Her whimpers pulled at him the most. She tried so hard to keep them locked away, to defy her true feelings, but they managed to seep through every time.

It hurt him, to know that she was suffering so painfully, so inconsolably, and there was simply nothing he could do to stop it. He'd waited for her; to speak; to tell him what'd really happened that night, and relieve herself of the burden that weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

It haunted her every waking moment; he knew that. Even at night, she'd rouse so suddenly, coated in sweat, shivering, and desperate for his warm touch. It seemed to be the only thing that could soothe her frantic heart, especially when the tears started. Her behaviour wasn't all that different during the day either and Natsu had nearly given up hope that she'd ever tell him, making the guilt he felt for not being there all the more consuming.

The state he'd found her in the next morning, bloodied, clothes torn and completely broken, tormented his thoughts daily, and the way he'd reacted to it, even more so. Through the despair and anger at finding her so badly hurt, he'd raged through the streets of Magnolia, hunting down the bastard he could smell all over her apartment.

It wasn't hard to dissect what'd happened to her, the slayer just wasn't sure how far it'd gone. He'd learnt quickly not to ask questions though or risk losing her trust entirely. It was a marathon, not a sprint and with each day he spent with her, pretending to act like his normal self, the more he hoped she'd begin to loosen—only time would tell.

Having procrastinated long enough, the young mage jumped up to her window, and let himself in like always. Plastering the biggest smile he could muster onto his face, he greeted the girl hunched over her desk, right where he knew she'd be and tried to remain positive in such a ghastly situation.

"O-Oh, uh… Hi, Natsu! I didn't see you there." Her eyes locked onto his for barely a moment before turning away, wiping her cheeks to rid them of their wetness with her used, snot-laden tissue. She turned around to face him, her gaze never quite meeting his as a small, weak smile graced her lips, "Where's Happy?"

"Probably eating a fish somewhere… Or at the guild giving it to Carla, you know what he's like." He shrugged, his expression remained light and cheery, while his narrowed pupils latched onto her every movement, much like a predator stalking its prey, "I thought I'd come over and see if ya felt up to going on a mission soon. I snagged some pretty good ones for you to take a look at, if you're interested?"

"Sure… that sounds like fun. W-Why don't I make us some lunch? Then we can pick out a good one together." Lucy hopped up from her chair all too eagerly, desperate to remove herself from his watchful gaze.

She was avoiding him; but that was hardly new. He knew the reason why—the unshed tears in her eyes evidence of that, not that he cared what she looked like. She did it for a matter of pride, wanting him to see only the Lucy he knew so well, and not the damaged one she’d become. He, as much as anyone, wanted to see that smile light up her face once more, the brilliant one that shined as bright as the stars she wielded; what he wouldn’t give to see that again…

Gathering the request papers in his hand, he followed her into the kitchen and leaned himself up against the doorway, smiling as he watched her get to work, “Hey Luce, this one looks kinda good. I think we should definitely consider it.” But she didn’t answer, nor even look at him. If it weren’t for their close proximity, he would have assumed she hadn’t heard him. “Lucy, did you hear me?”

She remained silent, instead her body began to tremble, her face wet with tears once again and her hands drawn to cover them on instinct.

“Luce, I didn’t hear you.” He cautiously walked over to her shaking form, carefully reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder, while the other drew her body in and held her tight, “Lucy...”

"I...I-I can't do this any more…" The blonde spoke quietly, removing her hands from her face and placing them onto his chest.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice gentle as if speaking to a spooked animal.

"This." She gestured to the two of them, "Pretend, Natsu. I-I'm tired of pretending like everything's fine, when it's so obviously not." She felt his hand clasp at her cheek, wiping the tear droplets away with his thumb. His familiar warmth soothed her aching heart as she leaned into it, finding comfort there that only he could provide. "I-I'm sorry. You must be so sick of seeing me cry all the time!"

The tears flowed freely now, pulling at his heart strings as well as his own unshed tears, but he would never so selfishly let them show. He cradled her closely, wanting nothing more than for her to feel safe in that moment, like he would protect her from everything, should she so wish. It was the first time Lucy had addressed the very unfortunate situation they found themselves in, and he wasn’t about to ruin it all now by letting his own emotions take over.

She tucked herself into the crook of his neck and breathed in his familiar scent, calming her nerves as she relaxed into him. This is the way they'd always worked, one picking the other up in their time of need and carrying both of their weights should they need to, and Natsu was approaching this no differently.

Once she'd calmed down enough, he picked her up and carried her to her bed, perching them both down on it so that they could get comfortable. She was ready to finally tell him, he could see it in her eyes, and as apprehensive as he was about hearing it, all he needed to do was listen.

"I think you need to tell someone, Lucy. Whether that's me, or someone else, it's not good to keep it all bottled up." He explained, as she pulled away slightly, but not enough to fully let go of him.

"I-I know… It's just hard to relive something you spend every waking moment trying to forget." She sniffled once more, wiping her nose this time on her sleeve. "Can we at least lay back first?" Her voice was so timid and insecure, nothing like the Lucy he knew.

"Sure thing!" He laid himself back against the pillows, kicking his sandals off and placed one arm behind his head while the other was outstretched for her to lean upon. "Come lay here, Luce."

Doing what he said, she cuddled up to his side, laying her hand and cheek against his shoulder and felt his arm encircle her waist, "I… don't really know where to begin… It all seems such a blur, yet I remember every single bit of it."

He kept quiet, caressing his thumb against her hip as a way of encouraging her instead.

She began slowly, starting from where she'd left the guild hall that night, "It was kinda strange I guess… not having you there to walk me home like normal, it never feels right without you around…" She chuckled half-heartedly, before clearing her throat. "I remember walking along the canal when this bad feeling came over me… But, I just put it down to being alone in the dark and kept going.”

She shifted closer to him, subtly indicating that what she was about to say, made her uncomfortable at the very least.

"When I reached the apartment building, I noticed the window was slightly open, even though I knew I’d shut it. I must’ve just thought that you’d come home early from your mission, or something." She fidgeted again, this time her legs began to tangle with his, giving away her anxiety and fear. “It was only once I walked into the room, did my blood run cold. It was dark and empty, and you were no where to be seen. It felt… wrong.”

"You mean they were already in the house?" Natsu asked, feeling himself tense as he looked across the small room, imagining her words play out before him.

"Mm, and by the time I'd reached for my keys, it was too late." She shivered once again, the memories making it hard to concentrate. "H-He came out from behind, shoving me against the wall and pinning my arms above my head." A fresh set of tears began to cascade down her delicate cheeks, her breathing heavier than before and her fingers gripping at his jacket tightly. "I…I remember struggling a lot, trying to kick him away, but it was no use, he was just too strong. I felt so overpowered and small and weak, and all he did was laugh."

Natsu clenched his jaw, realising now that this was about to get a whole lot darker and he could barely keep himself from raging all over again, but he kept himself controlled this time, for Lucy's sake—that was the last thing she needed.

"That's when it started…" She gulped down a large breath, steadying herself as she divulged further, "His hands; his mouth; his… teeth. I-I can still feel them… on me, crawling across my skin."

Natsu's eyes widened, turning to the blonde who refused to look him, and gasped, "He touched you!? Where?" He asked, a little too forcefully in his own shock.

Unable to say with words, she nodded and used her finger to point at the areas on Natsu's body, starting from the top, "Here," she pointed to his mouth and chin. "Then here," she then grazed over his ear and jaw line, and the next one his neck. Her finger ventured down to Natsu's chest and stomach, where she pointed once more, "And then… there," she managed to wrangle out, pointing down towards his upper thigh.

"You mean… that bastard touched you down-"

"He didn't quite get that far. When I stopped struggling, I think he must've lost concentration, because I managed to pull one of my hands free and grab at his crotch."

She felt Natsu tense at that, having anyone grab hold and squeeze them tight was not a pleasant thought, "I hope you squeezed until your hand hurt, Lucy."

"Well, that was the plan… but he slapped me across the face before I could get any real grip and I landed face down on the floor." Jolting upwards, she ran a shaky hand through her hair, removing the blonde tresses away from her clammy forehead. "Sor- Sorry Natsu, the next bit, is where he… It's the bit, I-I struggle with most…"

Feeling alarmed by her reaction, he sat up too. Fearing the worst, he could only hope she wasn't about to tell him what he'd suspected all along, "It's alright, take your time." He reached his hand out to her, thankful she'd taken it and not pushed him away, "What did he do, Lucy?"

Trying to calm the overwhelming anxiety building within her, she swallowed down the longest breath of air, filling her lungs with much needed oxygen, "I remember smacking my head on the floor… A-And then, I felt his weight on top of me…"

Natsu's breath caught in his throat, snapping his head to the part on the floor Lucy had pointed to and could only imagine how frightened she must have been, "Then what, Luce?" He noticed her hesitancy, wishing he didn't have to ask.

"I-I remember his hand on the back of my head, holding me down, while his other hand lifted up my skirt. He was laughing at me, even as he slid down my underwear." She huddled herself back into a ball by the window, wiping continuously at her red and irritated eyes, "It was then that I realised that my struggle was in vain, that no matter what I did, he was going to… then he…" The tears turned to wails as she tried to continue, "And I've… I've never felt more disgusted! I felt helpless and so pathetic, so desperate for someone to come and save me that I stupidly called out your name, even though I knew you wouldn't hear me… That hope was still there."

Natsu had barely moved, so ashamed of himself for not being there in her time of need that he didn't know what to do with this new information. He felt angry beyond words that some bastard out there was walking free after doing such a horrific thing to his Lucy. But among the anger, there were other feelings; guilt; sadness; frustration; regret; all of them fighting for dominance in his tumultuous mind.

"Lucy…" Was all he could manage, unable to find the right words to tell her how truly sorry he was for not coming to her aid, sickened by the fact that while he wasn’t there, she’d suffered so greatly.

"I was so scared, Natsu!" She started, turning to look at his own sombre expression, "But I knew that if anyone were to come, it'd be you." Lucy's lips lifted in the corners, her smile full of sadness and sorrow, "When he finished, I couldn’t move, and all I remember feeling was coldness of the hard floor, wishing you'd come through that window and warm me up again…"

But that's not what happened, and he felt like the worst best friend in the world because of it. She'd needed a loving hand to lead her away from the pain, to comfort her and protect her from the monster that lurked in the dark, but he’d arrived too late.

He felt his heart sink and his stomach drop, his guilt and regret taking precedence, "I… I, I'm so sorry, Lucy… I never meant to… I didn't think-"

"Like I said, I don't blame you for not being there… It wouldn’t be fair of me to do that. How were you to know?” As much as it hurt her, she knew that had he been there, it would’ve been a totally different story, “I just… I need…”

She couldn’t say it with words, but he knew exactly what she was trying to tell him. She needed him, and that’s exactly what he was going to give her. Without saying a word, he reached forward and pulled the desperate girl back into his chest, enveloping her in that warmth she yearned for more than anything else, and held her as if his life depended on it. He wasn't letting go, not ever, and with every minute that passed with her in his arms, was another second towards healing her shattered heart.

“I’m always gonna be here, Lucy. I promise you.” He whispered into her hair, kissing the top of her head as if she was the most precious thing in the world. “You mean too much to me.”

She snuggled closer, wanting to be as near to him as she could and tightened her grip, “Thank you, Natsu.” With his warmth seeping deep into her cold body, warming her very soul, she relaxed against him, and felt her eyes slowly close, “Thank you...”

I know this was a sad one for nalu day, but I wanted to convey more the bond between them rather than the actual incident. I hope you liked it anyway! :)

#nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fanfiction #nalu fanfic #fairy tail #fairy tail natsu #fairy tail lucy #fairy tail fanfiction

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thepeakygurl · 4 years

Note

Well I'm here. I wanted to tell you what a sucker I'm for some good fluff Tommy Shelby fluff..

I had this idea at the back of my mind where the Tommy married the reader as a formality because Polly had been constantly nagging him to get Charles a mother.(Like after Grace dies). Now he makes it clear that he cannot give her "love" and she should not expect it but she should be a dutiful wife (I know, patriarchy) and take care of Charlie. Reader decides to give the marriage a try.. and thinks it's not always love that builds marriage. As long as Tommy keeps her safe, it's fine.. It's only when the reader gets pregnant with Tommy's kid, the way her body starts changing, Tommy's heart starts changing as well and he starts falling in love with her as her pregnancy progresses..

I'm sorry if this is too much. 🙊🥺

A/N: I’m so in love with this one, I really, really hope you like it!🥺 thank you for requesting this amazing piece✨ honestly this one gave me so much life that I could wrote a whole series out of it!

Another Day

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,834

When Grace died, Thomas knew that a part of himself went with her. Part of his heart and his capacity of loving followed the woman who owned that same heart into the abyss of death. And he was fine with it, the only reasonable thing to do was to let his heart rest next to his beloved wife, that was alright with him.

Everyday that went by Thomas felt as his life were slowly drowning into a whirlwind of inconsolable sorrow. Nevertheless, he was trying his best for Charlie and he was darned proud of how such a sweet boy he happened to become. So mannered and so caring that sometimes he almost failed to believe he was his son, this was his only spiral of joy. Every time Ada would come around with Karl, Charlie wouldn’t help, but ask about his mommy and why him and daddy were always alone. And he was right, Thomas and Charlie were always going to be alone in a way, that thought was so dreadful and achingly painful that one morning he did what he had to do. Polly spent the last few weeks begging him to meet the daughter of this friends of hers, single and behaved, What more could you ask for? Polly would always end up saying. A question he would have promptly answer with Grace.

The first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but think how pretty you were. He was a man with pride, but he also had eyes and he would never say something that he doesn’t mean so he said it “You are a very beautiful woman” in a tone so cold and unemotional that made you laugh, clearly he was forced into this meeting as well. Marriage was the last thing in your list: Travel and study the art of painting that was your dream and see it being crushed by the economical need of your family almost crushed you a well. Being the respectful and obedient wife of Thomas Shelby was never part of your plan, but you weren’t selfish enough to say no and let your family sink in debt. And while Polly was taking your mom’s arm and pulling her aways from you two for some intimacy, you look at time a stare that he didn’t give back and said “Next time be more convincing.”

The wedding came soon enough, everyone on your side of the family was happy, excited and hopeful for the future that this union would bring. The Shelby’s on the other side, they weren’t allowed to celebrate as this wasn’t a marriage of love, but need. A small wedding, no reception. You never really thought about marriage, but somehow it made you sad how so careless this man was. How cruel he was to care so little about something that for you could have a meaning.

On the night of your wedding Thomas didn’t talking much, if anything at all. Some candles were lit on the side of the bed, they smelled nice you remember, but nothing could ease up the tension in that room. You in your night gown standing in front of him as he close the door behind him while he enters the room. His eyes locked in yours but it’s hard to tell whether he wants this or it’s just a duty. A step after another he finally was in front of you, so close that he could easily hear your heart racing on your chest. His hand slowly reached your cheek and he smiled a small imperceptible smile “Love is a tricky thing. From this night on I will respect you, protect you, but love...” he eyes were now somewhere else, they were still looking at you, but you could tell they were elsewhere. That was enough for you, or so you thought.

Time passed and the only thing that made those miserable day bearable was Charlie. You saw in him a lot of Thomas, but there was also a side of him that you didn’t quite get, probably from his mom. Grace a woman that was still an important presence in the house, in their life. Charlie would sometimes stare at the paint of him, Thomas and Grace and would point and her, asking where she is. You would then proceed to sit next to his and point at his chest close to where his heart his “She is here. She’s in here everyday, even if you don’t see her” you would say smiling at him. She was beautiful, so beautiful and so much loved that you would pity yourself, a resentment that caused you to be sickened by yourself, at some point in time you realised that you started to compete with the death and that feeling brought so much shame that you decided it was time to get back at your art. So you did, painting and looking after Charlie. When the Sun would disappear in order for the Moon to gloriously take its place, Thomas would come home, sometimes even later than that. He would kiss Charlie on the forehead, then he would smile at you. After all expectations, Thomas had no problem in engaging in a conversation with you, however he never talked to you as his wife, more like a newfound acquaintance and that again was alright with you.

Then one day you found out you were pregnant. You had all the signs, morning sickness, late period, body changing, but a part of you didn’t want it to be true. You were so afraid of bring to Earth a creature that was not made out of love that you took quite enough time to tell Thomas, the enough time it took you to start showing and made it impossible for you to hide it longer. Your heart was racing as fast as the horses that Thomas so much loved, when one night he grabbed you by your hand and pulled you closer to him, not a moment of love, but a need. And while a hand slowly caressed your arms, the other was finding his way under your night gown but stopped as soon as he felt your stomach. Surprised as it was he went from looking at your body to staring at your face, while you were nervously biting your lips “I’m pregnant” you said in a whisper. His hand fell down as soon as those words left your mouth and he quickly stepped back. He didn’t want another child, not like this, but he was not going to say it. In fact he didn’t say anything and went to bed.

Weeks after that Thomas didn’t touch you, or talked to you. He even barely looked at you. He felt as if he was betraying Grace, as this baby could bring an end to the connection he had with her. He wasn’t ready for any of that, but neither were you and so the hostility between you two grew. Charlie however was super excited to have a little brother or sister. Seeing his son so excited about the news made him think that maybe that was such a bad news, after all that’s what he wanted for the both of them, not being alone.

And the baby was growing, strong as ever. Polly and Ada started to come visit more and you liked that, that made you feel less alone.

“Don’t worry he will come along someday” Polly would always say to you and you would always smile repeating yourself that you didn’t need his love, that this was a marriage without love, but now with this baby inside you, you couldn’t help but thinking if he was ever going to love your baby.

Thomas was now at home more often “I do not have so many employees for nothing now eh?” He would say every time you would wake up in the morning and see him already on his feet preparing Charlie for the day. The truth was that Thomas knew you had trouble sleeping since the baby, he woke up sometimes during the night to see you walking around the room while moaning in pain. He knew how stressful it could be to not having enough sleep, carrying a baby and providing for another one, so he decided to stick around for a while. Seeing your daily routine, how you would play with Charlie, sit in front of the painting of hi late mom, telling him those kind word and seeing you meticulously give time to your own passion, that did something to him. Perhaps it was just time what he needed, perhaps love was something that he could feel again, because now every time he looked at you, he felt alive again.

“What now? Are you going to do the laundry as well?” You jokingly said while you were having breakfast.

He looked and you and chuckled “No, I pay other people to do that. But you are more than welcome to do it yourself, it’s money that I can save” and as he saw you rolling your eyes in response he smiled “I got you something” he said talking a little bag under the table and placing it in front of you.

You almost gasped in surprise, Thomas Shelby caring to waste a bit of his time to buy you something? Not even your birthday made him turn around like that. You were almost scolding yourself out loud for how much you were smiling at that gesture. You carefully opening the bag to reveal a pair of white baby shoes, the most precious thing he could ever get you. Thomas looked at you with the same big smile that was on your lips and he hold your hand, he didn’t say much after, but your hand on his meant something for the both of you.

You gave birth to the most beautiful and precious baby girl. Polly and Ada were at tears when they first saw her and you could tell to have seen even Arthur shredding some tears and being scolded by John. You even shredded some tears. The love that you thought you couldn’t get and that you were never going to experience, it was all there in this tiny little girl. Charlie was absolutely in love with her, so much that it was hard to convince him that he was to big to sleep in the crib with her. You were looking at your baby girl, sleeping peacefully and there it was, the most beautiful piece of art you ever made. While this thought slid through your mind, Thomas wrapped his arms around your waste in a hug from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and he smiled looking at his daughter “So darned beautiful” he whispered while looking at her, he was completely astonished and happy, so darned happy. “You both are” he then said holding you a bit tighter than before and this time, you believed him.

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sour-n-salty-citrus · 3 years

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Do you like the backstory for rick? Idk I kinda preferred it when Rick's past was a complete mystery and i dont really care about diane at all. I didn't expect the writers to actually write a canon for him either but I guess they realised how much the audience wanted one for him

Ajdjdjeidjs ack, I'll be honest I'm not... keen on it.

(Bolly-quinn actually puts it into words well how I feel about Rick's backstory here)

I liked the mystery element of his backstory! I know it's always exciting to have things in canon, but like... it being open to interpretation was something I always appreciated.

And... ugh, hoo boy. I'm torn. I mean, I love that Rick is completely different from what dudebros and like- "high iq" redditors present him as. He's a man who loved his wife and daughter, loved them so much he would rather give up travelling the multiverse, becoming a genius scientist, just to stay with them. He was vulnerable, soft, and caring. He wasn't nihilistic and reckless and selfish and some "alpha male who wouldn't let anything tie him down". He was ridiculously romantic, optimistic, sweet and loving, and maybe even kind.

And I don't give a shit.

I don't! I don't care. This might sound incredibly cruel and unfair, but I don't care that Rick lost his family.

Ok- let me explain.

I'm... disappointed. I'm disappointed that losing Beth and Diane is all it was that made Rick into the complete and utter monster he is today (or the start of the series anyway). I don't mean to undermine his loss and grief- at all! It's just... for him to go on a (seemingly decades long) killing spree, slaughtering any version of himself he seemed to come across... christ. Maybe in his eyes, they were all as bad as that One. Which is understandable. I'm very lucky to have not experienced that kind of loss. I haven't had to Grieve the way Rick did. Maybe I just don't get it, because I've never felt it. That's fair.

It just felt... god, I don't want to say excessive. I know, people process grief in different ways, and for some it manifests in unhealthy ways, some lash out at the world, fixate on trying to find an explanation, to find justice, etc. And I like how Rick was an absolute inconsolable wreck at first. Something like that, it needs time to process and overcome before you can start moving again.

I just- I don't know. Something rubbed me the wrong way about it all.

It's like- it's not that I wanted Rick to have spent all that time partying or something. It's just- argh, i don't know! Maybe someone else can put it into better words lol.

I hate that he immediately jumped into not giving a single shit about other people (save birdperson and squanchy!). Like- when he blew up those aliens who gave him whatever it was he needed. Ah- ok, they probably weren't exactly innocent or anything, but still. I think it was just I felt if we ever saw Rick's backstory, I'd want it to be a slow decline into who he is, show him gradually losing so much of his morality and becoming so jaded. Idk i guess i just wanted it to be like, a series of significant (and lesser but still important) events that lead to him going down that path rather than- this ONE thing that just apparently completely ruined him? And yeah ik ik it was a BIG thing, but like- i guess i was expecting.... more? Maybe something like idk Rick trying to save all the other Beths and Dianes and failing, idk, just... something more.

I actually would have preferred it if Diane lived. I dont know, I just- man I really hate the dead wife/daughter turns ordinary man into callous asshole trope. I agree, it's hard to really care all that much for Diane, and for a while I couldn't understand why. I thought, idk, is it internalised misogyny? Do I just not like Diane because I want to ship Rick with someone else?

I think I get it now. Diane, for all her significance in Rick's backstory, just... isn't a character. She's just- the motivation Rick needed to kick off the story. You could replace her with literally anybody else Rick could have loved and it wouldn't feel any different. She just doesn't feel special. She's no more unique than any other Dead Wife. We get nothing, literally nothing of her. I kept thinking, why? Why does this just not hit that hard? Rick's had emotional moments with Beth, with Birdperson, even with Summer and Jerry. And then I got it- it doesn't feel earned. It felt like how you feel when you see side characters or extras in the background of an action movie die. Maybe some faint sadness, but mainly nothing. We as an audience get nothing from Diane, we don't know her, don't get to see how she matters to Rick, don't get to see her relationship with Rick, we don't get any chance to connect with her character. So when she dies and Rick gets his montage of seeking revenge, it doesn't feel earned. It feels more like I'm being told about how this guy suffered than really seeing it (which i believe, may have been the writers intention actually...). It's kind of like a feeling of "damn that sucks bro... and?". There's no real heavy emotional response that I could really get from it...

I actually would have preferred if Rick and Diane broke up, divorced. I feel like that would offer so much more for them BOTH as chatacters. Instead of their relationship being happy and sunshine and rainbows until a Big Bad came in and took that away, I'd prefer it if Rick's downfall was just... his fault. (Actually His fault.) If his marriage fell apart because he couldn't make it work. If he estranged his daughter because he couldn't properly handle fatherhood, despite loving her. If he was flawed, terribly flawed, because of his own misjudgement and shortcomings. I guess my biggest problem, is that this is presented as someone having the perfect life, which is then taken away as a result of someone Else. It's too easy to then say, oh, it's not his fault he's like that! He had his heart broken, his life ruined! He lost himself in a revenge spree, poor thing... I'd have rathered if it was just a little bit more... realistic? If Rick had been the root cause of his own problems. If he'd experienced tragedy, but also been the cause of much more. I just wish there'd been more of a balance? It just felt so rushed. And not because of the montage- it just like Rick became completely apathetic way too fast. I just hate hate HATE the "he was a good guy with the perfect little life until tragedy struck and he was never the same". Rick never made the effort to improve his life, to do better, to be better. He's actively a cruel, callous, unkind person (complex, yes, but these are traits no one can deny he harbours). He's done far worse than was done to him, and that will never be justifiable to me... it just all feels so very cliche and out of place, and out of everything, this was the one thing I had hoped they wouldn't do.

I think the writers are aware of this, strangely enough. I mean, Rick even calls it his "crybaby backstory". I think they didn't want to leave it open any longer, and just got it out of the way. I don't think they really want to elaborate on it anymore. From what I predict, they want to focus on the here and now of Rick (and Morty, haha), and the development of who Rick is NOW, instead of who he WAS. I think they kind of just went, here's your gut-punch, your tragic backstory, now leave it alone. Diane is dead, Rick had a hard past, the series is about moving on and change. Now can we PLEASE get back to the sci-fi shenanigans?

(There was something I LOVED about the backstory though, and that was the soundtrack! Like the music for the Battle of Bloodridge, it fucking SLAPPPEDDDD. I can't imagine making synthwave emotional, but it actually kind of worked! The swell of the music actually did a lot more for getting a reaction out of me than the content lmaooo. It kind of reminded me of Kurzegast's "optimistic nihilism" for some reason... I actually liked the Bloodridge track so much, it got me a little into synthwave, which i never listened to before! The music producers this season have just KILLED IT!)

#citrus speaks #long #ajdjsjdhaj im sorry i just have so many Thoughts on this #as critical as it sounds i promise i dont hate it that much #rant #is this a rant? it sounds like one akdnaja #RaM #Rick and Morty spoilers #rick and morty #RaM S5 finale

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stygianflood · 4 years

Text

Like the Shoreline and the Sea (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary- Ethan is asked out on a date right after Miami in Book 1. Ethan’s PoV

Genre, rating, words- Angst, teen, 2k

Open Heart fanfic tropes- birthday, office.

March Challenge Day 13 prompt Someday; April Challenge Day 9 prompt Smell of the Rain

A/N: nor’westers- violent thunderstorms in northern plains of India, before the onslaught of monsoon.

Title inspired by Leonard Cohen’s Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye.

‘This will improve our understanding of adiposity and sarcopenia in this population, help identify thresholds predictive of metabolic risk, and ultimately prevent or ameliorate… ’

Better prevent than ameliorate.

‘...ameliorate the long-term impacts on health and…’

Twenty five years should be long enough.

Hers is a singsong voice, the warm, trilling kind. Mellow sun dances on the frills of her dress. The yellow one.

The man at her side twirls her on the empty kerb. Dips and kisses her. Her laughter is all that is pure and golden.

A child follows them, embarrassed. She bends down to kiss him, and he is furious.

The scene shifts.

The child is on the front porch, eyes set somewhere beyond the wild bergamot bushes.

Tear tracks on pink cheeks mingle and dry with dust from his afternoon’s exploits. Something like a steely resolve troops in his eyes.

Ethan Ramsey has been staring at the same sentence for fifteen minutes now.

Whoever coined the term ‘nostalgia’ from the Homeric nostos and algos was speaking of anguish caused by an inability to return. But they failed to discern the inevitable tethering of reminiscence with habituality.

That is more or less the case with him. Louise Ramsey walked out on her husband, and eleven year old son some twenty five years ago right before his birthday. For a very long time now, home is not about apple crisps or kitchen gardens.

About this time every year, a crevice in his mind he likes to call the amygdala dwells on the same days.

Almost as a ritual.

He is a scientist. A rationalist. And like every year, he reminds himself there is work to do.

Unless there’s a knock at the most unpleasant hour.

He never returns to the article. Never manages a come in. The distraction walks in, messy hair knotted with a pencil. Probably because she has lost another hair tie.

He mustn’t be that aware.

But she talks too much.

‘Dr. Mukherjee.’ He sounds gruff. They’re supposed to be redrawing their boundaries, even if he is the only one making an effort. ‘I thought your shift ended-’

‘Two hours ago.’ Rigours of a sixteen hour shift mark her visage. Her smile is a little too conniving for his comfort. ‘I had work afterwards.’

She starts shuffling papers on his desk, permission be damned. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and manages an exasperated sigh. Since when have interns started walking into his office with… birthday cakes?

‘What do you think you’re- It’s not my-’

‘I heard rumours that Dr. Ramsey had to cancel a date.’ She sounds amused. He does not miss the split second glance she shoots his way before continuing. ‘On his birthday, too. Such a shame.’

He scoffs.

‘No one knows it’s my birthday.’

‘Oh, they do. They’re just too afraid to… ah, invoke the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.’

Of course, she is not one of them. She has absolutely no regard for the immutable drill he has observed for nearly four decades. And why must she, when her sole intent is to swivel the rusty axis of his life.

Ethan has never known the first shower of an Indian monsoon. It is sudden and torrential, just as it is feared and revered. It smells like summer, and mango blossoms.

Ethan has never known one until this year.

‘I’m thirty seven, Rookie,’ He manages weakly.

‘And I would’ve bought the candles accordingly if I knew that.’

The tealights she arranges look so much better, he thinks. The cake is a simple blue and white affair. Not the ones that have more icing than cake, he notes. Not the ones he disapproves of.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Terminator

‘I could’ve whipped something up without sugar,’ She rambles, suddenly starting to blush. ‘Or ordered one. But I only just came to know it’s your birthday. And there wasn’t a lot of-

‘Thank you, Apu.’ Tresses of warmth curl about his chest and the gravel of his voice.

Ethan has avoided birthday cakes for a decade now. Unless it’s Naveen’s birthday, he thinks with a pang.

In his time with Harper or his brief involvements in med-school, no one has ever convinced him to do birthdays. He checks himself. This is just an intern being kind.

But interns aren't kind to Dr. Ramsey, are they.

She assures him the photos are not for social media. They settle on the couch, it’s his first birthday cake in over a decade.

He is glad for an innocuous reason to look at her, laugh at jokes that in any other company would draw his scorn. She is oddly comforting. Unlike most interns who avoid his office at all costs, she moves about it as if she was meant to be here all along.

He must have stalled birthdays worth twenty years only to spend it on a couch with her.

The plates are disposable. It is nothing like the restaurants that come with his status, for there is an endearing simplicity about it.

It almost feels like… home.

He steals occasional glances at her. It has been four agonisingly long days after their return from Miami. And for all his attempts to redraw their boundaries, it has been a non-return of sorts.

Aparna drives him to distraction, flouts each and every one of his rules. Seeks him out in supply closets and muddled dreams. And every time he breaks her heart a little more, he finds himself floundering in his own squalor.

The German counterpart to the English ‘nostalgia’ is ‘sehnsucht’. Like ‘nostalgia’, it has the charm of what has been. But unlike it, it also has the enigma of what has never been. Miami will remain the swansong to an ideal that slipped through Ethan’s fingers.

A surge of anguish ripples through him as he realises all of this is his for the asking, and he will have none of it.

‘It wasn’t a date,’ He blurts out.

He wouldn’t tell her that if he wants her to move on. Not truly.

‘You don’t have to-’

‘She is Declan’s associate in Panacea. She suggested signing the contract with the Diagnostics Team over dinner tonight. So… just business.’

Claudette Wilson is the most promising young face of Panacea, and Ethan needed less than a minute to know why.

Sleek, dark hair styled at her nape played up her high cheekbones. The ruby of her pliant lips, almost risqué for a meeting such as this, always lingered a little longer on the rim of her coffee mug. Even the measured spoons of her laughter came with an all too enticing lilt.

Ethan has met the other type. Vacuous and synthetic. But the steely glint in her eyes came with a weighty intelligence. An unfaltering wit. And when a perfectly manicured hand brushed the contours of his cuff, he knew it was never meant to be just business.

She was irresistible. And so was he.

That afternoon, the bitterness in his mouth had nothing to do with coffee. He learnt he would refuse Claudette even if her pay checks did not come from Panacea.

Aparna falls silent, almost as if discerning in his words everything he left unsaid.

They have run out of jokes and topics for a harmless chat. He is getting terribly comfortable with her again, he realises alarmed. And she is fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

She’s nervous too. He knows. He could define every twitch and turn of those fingers.

Somewhere in their conversation they have edged so close that her knee juts into his thigh. The couch is surprisingly small for two people. Minutes pass, and despite himself, he does not want her to leave.

His fingers rest on her flustered hands, it’s a deep-rooted reflex. Looking down, she weaves his hand in both of her own. Even as the adrenaline surging in his blood incites him to flee, the delirious part of him emerges stronger and more naive.

He thinks she is leaning in. Soaking up the mayhem in his eyes. The slight movement causes wisps of errant hair to slip from the messy bun. There’s new growth around her brows, a faded scar on her forehead. But it’s her eyes that still hold sway over him.

They stroked him with a strange, silent awe on a balcony on the shores of the Atlantic.

She is nothing like interns that hover around him year after year. Sucking up for recommendations. Sometimes more. She can devour him, and just as easily cast him aside without batting an eye.

And yet she is here. Snuggled in his office while her friends call it a night with cheap beer and rowdy escapades.

But she is different tonight. The quiver in her eyes tentative, even wary.

His hand rises of its own accord, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. Inadvertently, it brushes her face, lingers a little longer against her cheek.

She caressed his face as the ocean crashed around him. It was like falling from the top of a precipice. Tumbling into the amorphous, a terrifying weightlessness. He waited.

‘It’s getting late.’

She smells like the hospital, muted shades of honeysuckle, and like herself.

The cool breeze hummed a steady rhyme against the tumble of her midnight blue dress. Bits of the moon bounced off the dark curtain of her hair, plunging into her eyes. Ethan had never seen such fathomless eyes.

‘I should go.’ She leans into his palm, eyes fluttering close.

‘You should.’

And then she caught him. It was the hollow of her neck. It was soft. Like the rest of her.

Neither of them move today, silently imploring the other to charge. Or retreat. The battle drum in his chest is a dull ache. Throbbing and inconsolable.

The ridges of her collarbone bore traces of his ruin. Traces she covered every morning and stripped every night, like the rites of a godless liturgy.

His free hand is still laced in hers, the other drawing her face nearer.

Her lips are inches from his own as he draws a languid finger across them. Her warm breath spills on his lips, warring and mingling with his own ragged ones.

Her mouth was stained with wine. Numbing and inciting. He was battered, and bruised. Marooned at her side. And she was warm. So warm.

His hand traced the pummelling of her heart, kneading the softness of her chest. Her tongue jousted with his own as the ocean lapped at its shore. Tireless and persevering.

She was wild. Like her Gangetic nor’westers on a sultry afternoon. He was bewitched. She was doing something good to him.

Suddenly the air around them is ripped by the sound of his phone.

It’s his father.

The two of them recoil to their own spaces, Ethan horrified that he let himself stray so far yet again. Silencing the still erring device, he faces Aparna bracing for another apology.

‘I know.’

Her smile is placid, all traces of vulnerability gone. He is vaguely aware of the gentle pressure on the hand still clasped in her own.

‘Happy Birthday, Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She is gone before he can marshal his thoughts.

Ethan flops back into the couch, shivering and alone. The incandescent glow from the solitary lamp drenches the office in a soft, ethereal haze. She might not have been here at all but for the little things she scatters around him every time she forays into his life.

Today she leaves with him a caesura. It thwarts the cadence of a life he has been putting together since Miami.

After a minute, or perhaps a staggering nightmare, when he rises to pack the rest of the cake, he sees it.

She must have forgotten her hair tie was in her pocket after all.

It stares up at him from the floor, the silken, mute witness of his transgression. He gingerly picks it up, and turns it in his hand as though it houses some ancient sorcery.

Laying it on his desk, he considers texting her. But scarcely does he scroll down to her name when he stops himself. And pockets it.

Somewhere in the Atlantic, waves still crash upon the rocks, moistening, but never quite lingering.

The waves are relentless. Someday, the rocks crumble into fine sand.

Thank you for reading this! Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

#open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #choices monthly challenge #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #openheartfanfics #choicesaprilchallenge2021 #cac2021

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hopscotchandlemon · 4 years

Text

Shatter - Part 24

(Penultimate Chapter)

Shatter Masterlist

When you’d originally agreed to cook a meal for Gibbs and Jack, you’d clearly been in a better mood that you were today and you found yourself struggling to feel the same enthusiasm with a horrific mood where the slightest inconvenience threated to tip you in to a violent rage. This had become a regular thing, every few weeks you’d feel like everything was going wrong and the world was against you. Even your afternoon nap had failed to make you feel any better and the black cloud that had been following you around all day now seemed to be smothering you. The jar you’d attempted to open was steadfastly refusing to budge. You had a gadget to help you with this but even that was not having the desired effect. The anger was building inside you and you were contemplating smashing the stupid jar across the floor, but then, a wave of sadness hit you. Not only did you have these periods of feeling incessantly angry, you also had flashes of feeling unbearably miserable. You no longer had the energy to do anything with the jar and placed it next to the hob with your bubbling creation simmering away and leaning heavily on your stick, walked through to the lounge, hauling yourself on to the couch. The tears started to stream down your face as you lost control. Closing your eyes, you laid down and hope the feeling would pass soon.

‘Y/N, are you ok?’

You woke up with a jolt, coughing at the thick smoke that had filled the room, your ears hurting from the high-pitched alarm. Focussing your eyes, you see Jack crouched down beside you, a worried look on her face.

Why was Jack here?

Where was the smoke coming from?

What was that alarm?

Confused, you look at your friend who was gently rubbing your arm. Gibbs came into view with a concerned look on his face, he too was coughing.

And then you remembered.

The meal.

The jar.

The overwhelming feeling of unhappiness.

It took a few minutes to connect the dots, but you realised this was your fault.

‘I’m so sorry,’ you gasped. ‘Is the kitchen ok?’

Gibbs shrugged, ‘It’s fine. The pan might not make it though.’

The palpitations in your chest were not easing. The feeling of impending doom didn’t want to leave. Jack sat next to you, trying to reassure you. You didn’t see the look that your ex-colleagues had shared, you only heard Gibbs announce he was going to get some takeout, leaving you with Jack.

‘Is he angry?’ you ask her.

‘Who, Gibbs? No. He’s relieved you’re ok. Can you remember what happened?’

You tell Jack what you remember, about the jar, feeling angry then inconsolable and how you must have fallen asleep.

‘And how are you feeling now?’

‘Like an idiot having a panic attack.’

She continued to calm you, speaking softly and bringing you back to a better state of mind. When Gibbs returned with the food, you made an attempt at eating it but your mind was trying to compute what had happened. You had all these emotions running around your head and you didn’t know what to do with any of them. As Gibbs started to clear up the takeaway, Jack got up to leave.

‘Y/N, talk to him,’ she gestured towards Jethro. ‘He’s worried about you and he wants to help. Let him,’ she urged.

Nodding in agreement, you attempted to get yourself up. Jack announced that she was going home, and Gibbs shouted back that he’d see her on Monday. You walked through to the kitchen. There didn’t seem to be much in the way of damage, everything just needed a good wash.

‘I can clean up in here tomorrow,’ you offered.

‘We’ll both do it. You ok?’

You nodded while letting out a long sigh. Gibbs put the cloth he was holding back on the tap and led you out the kitchen, stopping at the refrigerator to pick up some of your non-alcoholic beer before carrying on towards the basement steps.

‘I wanna show you something.’ He whispered.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you tensed up. Getting down them was less of an issue than getting back up.

‘Come on, I promise it will be fine.’ He soothed.

Despite you better judgement, you shakily walked down the first step, then the second. You realised what he wanted to show you.

‘You put full risers on the stairs!’ you exclaimed. ‘You didn’t need to do that just for me.’

‘The stairs aren’t much use if you can’t use them,’ he smirked as he got a stool out ready for you.

Manoeuvring yourself into the chair you glanced at Gibbs with a puzzled look. He poured himself a glass of bourbon and placed the beer beside you.

‘I feel bad now,’ you sighed.

Jethro gave you one of his, ‘you’re-going-to-have-to-expand-on that’ looks. You concentrated on your beer for a few moments, trying to think how to word what you wanted to say.

‘That you went to all that effort fixing the stairs,’

He couldn’t and didn’t try to hide the perplexed look on his face.

‘Why wouldn’t I? You live here too,’

‘But not forever,’

‘It’s up to you how long you stay Y/N. I ain’t kicking you out. You can stay forever if you like.’

Allowing a few moments for his words to sink in, you feel a smile spread across your face.

‘You’d let me stay here forever?’

‘Yeah,’

Those steely eyes were looking at you. There were aspects of your life that had changed phenomenally and were unrecognisable from the life you lead prior to your injury. While you found it hard to read people sometimes, you still trusted Gibbs completely. He was the only man you knew wouldn’t lie to you. Your feelings for him had always been governed by your professionalism. Having thought about going to his house the night Stephen assaulted you but ultimately deciding not to because you didn’t want him to think of you as someone who needed saving. You cared deeply what he thought about you for reasons that weren’t always connected to your job.

‘Thank you. I’m not sure I deserve friends like you and Jack.’

‘Why?’

‘Sorry?’ you replied, not sure what he meant.

‘Why don’t you think you deserve me and Jack?’

‘Because I’m hard work. I don’t always make a lot of sense. I can never be there for you guys the ways you’ve been there for me. Some days I don’t even feel like the woman who wore these clothes a year ago. I look at photos and I don’t recognise myself. How can anyone want to be with me when I don’t even know who I am?’

It was a rare moment of clarity. The fog that clouded your brain most days temporarily lifted allowing you express what you felt.

Looking to Gibbs, you awaited any sort of reaction from him…

#ncis fanfiction #ncis #Leroy Jethro Gibbs #jacqueline sloane #gibbs x reader

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forgotten-daydreamer · 4 years

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Haikyuu sick/hurt characters headcanons: Karasuno edition!

⚠️ sickness, injuries, phobias, allergies and correlated symptoms ahead. If these themes upset you, proceed with caution. If you use these, credit me, please. ⚠️

Sawamura Daichi:

He doesn't let anyone know when he's sick. He'll show up to practise with a fever of 39°C and say that he's fine if someone points out how warm he is ("It's just overextertion. If you're not warm, it means you haven't been exercising well!")

He doesn't actually believe that he's fine, he knows his limits, but he just doesn't want to alarm anyone.

Luckily, he always manages to hold on until he reaches the bathroom if he's feeling pukey.

When he does get sick, he's very quiet and discreet. He always tries to go back to what he was doing before, insisting that he's okay.

When he's sick or hurt, the other third-years can see through his "I'm okay!" act (remember that time he hit his head and insisted that he was fine to play?), and know how miserable he really feels, so they force him to take it easyー he's no match for Suga, who will use mild violence if that's what it takes to make Daichi give up and rest.

Sugawara Kōshi:

He's anemic, cue to his constantly cold hands (and feet). Because of this, he takes iron pillsー or he should, because he forgets more often than not.

When he forgets the pills, he gets dizzy and weak, and needs to sit down for a bit. Once, he passed out due to anemia during practise, and he doesn't want to repeat that ever again, so he's extra cautious.

It's easy to understand when he's feverish, because he gets unexpectedly sleepy and quiet. He will fall asleep in class without even realising it if his temperature's any higher than 37,5°C.

He rarely gets hurt, but when that happens nobody's sure if he's okay or not. It's not that he denies it, but he simply doesn't say anything ("why didn't you say anything sooner!?" "B-because you didn't ask..?")

Once, he twisted his ankle and walked on it for a little less than thirty minutes before actually asking the coach if he could go get himself some ice. Of course, they didn't send him to get the icepack, but he had to sit there and listen as Coach Ukai yelled at him for not speaking up sooner.

Azumane Asahi:

He gets anxiety-induced stomach aches very often, and that's why he's used to feeling dizzy and to puking. Vomit doesn't scare him anymore.

Whenever he's sick, he runs away from the others; he needs to flee, far away. He loves his teammates, but he's scared that they'll accidentally overwhelm him further, and he doesn't want them to feel guilty.

This man can't stand the sight of blood. Like, at all, not even a little. Not even in movies. When Shimizu got a shallow paper cut, the Coach actually had to physically support him when getting him seated on a bench.

He broke his left index finger when he was a first-year, and as soon as he saw the bone sticking out of the skin (it looked worse than what it really was) he fell backwards and on a very concerned Sugawara without a word.

Cue to lots of tears and puke on the way to the hospital. He was inconsolable, but when Daichi had the idea to hide the injury from his eyes, Asahi managed to calm down a bit. In every situation, it's not the injury that scares him, but the blood.

Nishinoya Yuu:

He's reckless, he won't even notice when he gets injured. Since he's so used to bruises, bumps and shallow cuts, he doesn't understand when he's actually injured.

This guy played a whole set with a sprained wrist before realising that "hey, this feels kinda weird..?" and he didn't tell anyone until the end of the game, when his wrist was visibly swollen.

High pain tolerance plays a major role when he's injured or sick. Still, the others wish he would have a more average pain tolerance, because, once, Nishinoya felt sick during math class, and still claimed he was fine. He thought he was.

When he was rushed to the hospital due to a "mild ache in his lower stomach" that had been going on for two days after the math class incident, along with a 38,7°C fever, he was told that he had appendicitis ("I thought I just ate something bad or that I needed to take a huge dump! How was I supposed to know!? I thought I was fine."). It was clear that he wasn't, in fact, fine.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke:

He will try to toughen everything out and ignore the pain until it gets unbearable. Be it an injury or some sickness, he will automatically ignore it if he doesn't think it's serious enough to be life-threatening.

That's why he almost died when he ate one of the peanut butter cookies that Yachi had baked. Turns out, allergies do existー but he wished he'd found out in a different way. Sometimes, "My throat's kinda itchy. Does my tongue look... too big? It... it feels too big." can be synonym of "Hospital, now." Bless Takeda-sensei.

The time when he collided with Daichi, Tanaka completely ignored the fact that his arm hurt, and only realised when he took his shirt off in the locker-room and heard a screech from Yamaguchi. The bruise went from his shoulder to his elbow, blue and swollen. Cue to lots of pain relief cream and ice packs.

Ennoshita Chikara:

He never broke a bone in his whole life, but he's very good at dealing with it when it happens to someone else. He's just fascinated by how the human body works, and sometimes people think he's being cold in front of someone else's pain, when he's really just being logical.

He's good at dealing with his own pain too, though he rarely gets hurt or sick.

When he gets sick, he recovers pretty rapidly, but this leads him into relapse. That's why he's not allowed back to practise for a whole week after he recovers ("I'm fine. I've been fine for three days already, my fever wasn't even that high..." "Last time you said you were fine, you almost got pneumonia. Go home.").

He gets bad allergies during spring, and takes a lot of antihistamine pills which make him sleepy. He often has to excuse himself from class to go take a nap in the infirmaryー the teachers and the nurse know, so they always allow him to.

Narita Kazuhito:

This man is the embodiment of health. His diet and lifestyle will probably allow him to live until past the age of 100.

That's why he's not used to getting sick. And when he does, he's a confused mess with no idea of what to do with himself.

When he puked on himself after practise he was so shocked that he chuckled nervously and stood still, frozen, until Kinoshita and Ennoshita dragged him to the bathroom. He almost found the whole ordeal funny.

Kinoshita Hisashi:

He really despises vegetables and fruit, and often gets mocked because of it. He often stuffs himself with sweets and fried food until he feels sick ("But... how? That cake had strawberries in it! It's supposed to be healthy!").

He gets very bad seasickness. Once, his friends decided to drag him to Miyajima: he spent the time on the ferry and first hour on the island puking his guts out.

The thing he doesn't do good with is fainting: if someone passes out in front of him, he does the same, always. When Daichi passed out in the middle of the court, Kinoshita was thankful that Narita was there to hold him up, because he was ready to leave the land of the living.

Kageyama Tobio:

Always denies everything ("my nose is not bleeding!!") and this only makes everything worse for him. If he feels shaky, he won't take a clue and sit down; instead, he'll push himself and end up falling down on whoever's closest to him ("Daichi-san, nice receive!" "Now's really not the time, Hinata...").

When he gets sick, he gets sick hard. The flu has him puking all day long, with a fever of 39.5°C that, he insists, is not that high. His family and friends are smart enough to understand that he's lying. Not even the doctors and nurses at the E.R. can convince him that he's sick.

To be fair, he does not lie when he says that he's not hurt or sick: he genuinely thinks that whatever's going on with him is normal and not that bad.

He accidentally tripped on the leg of a desk in class, and fell face first into the teachers'. The deep, bleeding cut on his forehead wasn't enough for him to understand that he needed to go to the infirmary, and he just sat back at his desk, apologising for the mess. Turns out that his "little cut" needed six stitches in the end, and that his "mild headache" was, in fact, a mild concussion. He showed up to practise the following day anyway, and the Coach had to physically prevent him from joining.

He doesn't do good with nausea, though; he doesn't mind fevers, joint-pains, blood, bruises, or the act of throwing up itself. But when he feels nauseous he actively wishes to pass out, because anything is better than dealing with feeling like that. That's why he'd rather stick his fingers down his throat to get rid of the nausea already than waiting for it to pass naturally.

This got worse when he started suffering from migraines. As soon as he feels one starting to build behind his eye, he throws himself over the toilet, waiting for the dreaded nausea to come so that he can get rid of it before it gets too bad. He stays like that for hours if that's what it takes.

Hinata Shōyō:

He pukes a lot, and for a number of reasons: nervousness, motion sickness, fear, hungerー this guy can't even take it to the bathroom.

His guts are a mess, and he either vomits or poops every time he feels any strong emotion (which is...pretty often, for him). Thank goodness his friends always have pills that help with motion sickness with them, along with antiacid pills and sparkling water, and that Kiyoko and Yachi often restock the bus and everyone's backpacks with paper bags.

The higher the fever, the more he moves. Ever since he was a kid, a fever has never stopped him, and to be fair, fevers make him feel more motivated and energetic. He takes "Hey, no. Sit down, drink up, and rest." as an insult because "I'm fine. You're benching me because you think I suck, huh!? But I was doing fine! I- I was being good, right..?"

Yes, fevers make him emotional. He'll cry for anything once they make him admit that he's sick. He mostly cries because "How could I get sick? I'm going to be useless! I should've paid more attention, I should've been better!" but Kageyama knows for sure that he saw a feverish Hinata crying over a picture of his sister, for some reason.

He doesn't mind blood when he's the one to be bleeding, but if it's someone else, he freaks out. Seeing someone else having a bloody nose or bleeding from some injury, even small and insignificant, makes his stomach flip.

Tsukishima Kei:

He's never said "I'm in pain." in his whole life. The most honest statement he managed to grit out was "It kinda hurts.", but he never said anything more than that. He won't show himself being so vulnerable, ever.

Whenever he has to go to the optometrist, he won't eat anything for at least half a day before the appointment, because he knows for sure that he's going to throw up after the doctor dilatates his pupils.

He's a quiet puker, and he always locks himself up in the bathroom, which can be dangerous in those situations. After that time when he passed out after throwing up, his mother got an extra key of the bathroom, and always lingers close to the door when she knows that her son's about to be sick.

If anyone tries to interrupt him when he throws up or when he's in acute pain, he will yell at them. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the help, but he hates how everything feels so crowded around him when he's down. The only person who's brave enough to help him when he's like that is Yamaguchi, mostly because he's used to hearing his angry words (even if Tsukishima's never insulted him personally).

Yamaguchi Tadashi:

Terribly emetophobic, he won't throw up even if he has to. He just won't do that, no way... Which is cruelly ironic, since he gets sick pretty often due to anxiety and weak immune system. Tsukishima doesn't mind helping him out (but he would never step close to anyone else when they're sick) but he can be a bit rough sometimes; this both reassures and agitates Yamaguchi. "I'll stick my fingers down your throat if you don't throw up now." doesn't sound too kind, but when Tsukishima adds "it'll make you feel better, I promise." Yamaguchi feels a bit calmer. He’s also a loud puker.

He's a type-2 diabetic, though he has it under control and hasn't had any problem related to that in a while, not since the beginning of middle school, at least. Still, sometimes he needs to reluctantly sit practise out because he's obviously too shaky and weak to strain himself that much. When that happens, they all make sure that someone sits with him to make him feel less alone... and he appreciates it immensely.

He's on anxiety meds, but they make him feel dizzy sometimes, which leads him into a spiral of panic for fear that he'll get sick. It's a huge contradiction, really, and he hates it with his whole soul.

He's one of the people in the team who can handle others' sickness and injuries better; it might shock him for a second, but he's ready to jump into action and solve the problem in order to help his friends out.

Injuries don't scare him, though the worst thing that ever happened to him was when he got punched in the face by a bully. He also broke his arm in middleschool once though he doesn't remember muchー maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was that it hurt less than he imagined. The punch freaked him out more than that.

Yachi Hitoka

She's a good caretaker, but an absolute mess when it comes to taking care of her own injuries and sickness.

She's clumsy so she's not new to bruises and cuts, but this doesn't mean that she doesn't freak out a bit whenever she sees blood on her legs or arms. On their way home from school, one day, Hinata and Yamaguchi decided to get her band-aids with little chicks and kittens on them. She finished the 30-pack in less than a month.

She got her period a bit late in life, a couple of months before turning 15, and whenever she's on her period, it hits her like a train at full-speed in the guts. Kiyoko taught her some yoga moves that help with the cramps, and the boys never bother the two of them when they see them doing yoga in the corner of the gym. In fact, they also bought her an electric heating pad for her birthday along with an indecent amount of chocolate that didn't fit in Yachi's bag (and various other presents not concerning periods).

Shimizu Kiyoko:

The scars on her legs are fully healed, yet the skin there is thinner, and so the wounds reopen whenever she accidentally hurts herself there. They sting quite a bit, and though it's unusual, she hisses out loud when it's bad. Everyone agreed to make sure that medkit is always equipped with antiseptic cream. To this day, Kiyoko insists that it isn't necessary, but they disagree.

She always knows what to do when someone else feels sick, but she's unsure about what she'd do in case of her own sickness. She hasn't been sick in too long to know.

She hasn't gotten a cold since elementary school, and that one time when she thought she'd caught something, when she sneezed at the age of 16, it was actually just a bit of dust allergy. She doesn't even need meds for it.

Takeda Ittetsu:

He hardly gets sick, but he ends up hunched over the toilet more often than not after a Friday night out with his friends. He drinks quite a bit for a teacher, but only when he knows that he can do that without compromising his career or setting the wrong example. Hangovers also leave him a messy wreck, and that's why he only drinks on Fridays: that way, he has until Sunday night to recover.

For someone who's constantly surrounded by teenagers, he doesn't get sick much. He catches a cold every now and then, but nothing more serious than that. And when he's sick, he always tries to prevent the others from catching what he's got, without actually taking care of himself to heal.

Once, he got a fever of 40,1°C and luckily for him Ukai was coming over to discuss about the volleyball club; he found Takeda sprawled face-down in front of the open door. He was boiling, so Ukai took him to the hospital where he stayed for two days. ("I didn't think it was this bad." "So you knew you had a fever and still went to work?" "Yeah, but I had a mask on so that the others could be safe." "And you didn't buy medicine in the meantime?" "Ah, no." "...what the hell!?").

Ukai Keishin:

He catches a cold every other month, no matter how many layers of clothes he wears. These colds are often accompanied by low fevers, but he's used to those so he simply chugs some orange juice and moves on.

He tried to quit smoking countless times, especially since he started coaching these kids, but he can't help smoking at least three of cigs per day. Still, sometimes his chest aches a bit, and maybe it's just paranoia, but when that happens he doesn't touch tobacco for a couple of days.

His liver would even be able to survive Takeda's nights out; his guts, in general, are strong and he swears he's never felt nauseous in his whole life.

💫 I might think of more sick karasuno hc soon, but that's it for now. Expect more characters hc soon! Again, credit me if you use these, and please feel free to share this post! 💫

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u-changed-my-life · 3 years

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All this speculation about Ryan's return had me excited for a while. I didn't get my hopes up exactly (who can forget the Lockdown episode 💔?!) but I did have an extra spring in my steps!!

And then the Inside Soap "insiders" brought us back to earth with the "no current plans" for Ryan's return info.

Not exactly a heartbreak since it was too good to be true 🙄 but it did make me super annoyed. How many times will they use Robert's name to bait people like this? ��😡💔

The way these producers treat Robron fans, it's like having a narcissistic, abusive ex! You know they are bad for you and that is why you left. But every now and then they will manage to pull at your heartstrings & try to get something out of you... which by the way, is not you!! 😂🤷🏻‍♀️🤦‍♀️ And so you are disappointed...in yourself...but not surprised at the ex...and life carries on!

But thinking about this SL from the sidelines, I have two speculations:

1) The producers are genuinely using Robert's exit SL to break up Luke and Vic because that's where it all started and it would be the most contentious. You have to add that they are SO TONE DEAF that they didn't realize mentioning Robert would lead to speculations of return 🤷🏻‍♀️😂

And to be fair, if done properly, this could be a smart move. The last 18 months have shown that Robron cannot be replicated and are virtually IRREPLACEABLE. So Aaron with anyone will be controversial and unless there is a major SL, it will probably be a background ship.... something like Chas and Paddy🙊😂.

But Luke with someone else has potential. Because people do like him. A new gay couple will broaden representation and might win hearts and minds!! 🤔 ( for politics buffs, yes I DID use that reference 😂)

2) The second one is more "out there" but it is my favourite for obvious reasons. Ryan is a prankster. And if he wanted to keep something secret he would go to any lengths to do it. Remember when Emily Head was trying to keep a secret about her SL? No one really cared😂 But she did say in her interview, the lengths to which she went to protect the SL. Ryan might want to do something similar, and I am thinking, also wants to take revenge on The Sun. So I wouldn't put it past him to misdirect the media. It won't be anytime soon. Could be SSW21, could be Christmas....but maybe, me thinks, no current plans means, loose distant plans! 🤔🤷🏻‍♀️🙏❤️

Of course, the world doesn't revolve around Robron.... although why doesn't it?! 😂❤️🤷🏻‍♀️....so what more than likely happened is that the story writers didn't even think about Robron while coming up with this story. Ryan left, Robert is in jail, Aaron is building a friendship with a "good guy". So why not use Robert to break up Vic and Luke and maybe give Aaron a shoulder to cry on when he finds out? A nice friendly face who helped Aaron with his sister and with whom Aaron can share how lonely he is? And then, Aaron realises what's good for him, that there is life beyond Robert.....

A slow burn SL just like how these producers like it!!

I used to get mad thinking about it! Like REALLY MAD!!! Crying inconsolably first thing in the morning mad. Because it just feels so wrong, you know?! All of this is based on a premise which makes Aaron like Chas or any of the other characters. But Aaron is special. His love for Robert is special. The way he protects Robert and cares for him is special. His ability to forgive Robert and see through Robert's harsh exterior is special.

I have always said this and I will continue till my last breath. Robert's exit was perfect, brilliant!! A bit of the follow up was also great. But what they did with Aaron is UNFORGIVABLE in my books and I will genuinely never ...erm....forgive...them for it!! (Didn't think that through 😂). Part of me doesn't even want a Robron Reunion under these producers because I have lost all trust in them, especially Ms Hudson.

I'll be honest with you. The "hope dies last" part of me is praying this is a misdirection and something is in the works....

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk! 🙏😂❤️

#robron #robert sugden #ryan hawley #anti aaron #anti emmerdale #anti Jane Hudson #spoiler speculation

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stellarboystyles · 4 years

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Make a Move

Harry’s a bartender and she’s a waitress, a match made in heaven. That is, if they weren’t constantly pining over each other like idiots.

4.2k !

She and Harry closed almost every weekend.

Why? Because there wasn’t really anyone else that was willing, so they’re always picking up slack. They were even more short staffed before Y/N came along, and given that she was the only waitress who actually gave a shit about her job, she was always the first choice whenever someone called in sick or quit unexpectedly, which, unfortunately for her, was quite often. Not that she’s complaining, because she and Harry always work the same shifts so it’s always fun. She was so kind to every customer but as soon as any of them were crossing a line she’d be the first one to tell them to back off. Harry was the best bartender on the strip, and everyone local knows it, too. Word travels fast, and his drinks speak for themselves. They make a great team. The rest of their co workers claim that the pair always get better tips, and even though they aren’t wrong, Harry and y/n like to indulge in the private joke that maybe if everyone else didn’t do their job half ass then maybe they’d get the tips that they get every night. Their boss is lucky to have both of them working for him.

But Harry was just as lucky to be working there.

That’s exactly what it was. Pure luck.

When Harry’s mum Anne told her husband that she was pregnant with him, he promised her that he was going to change and be home more often, for them. And he kept his promise, for a while. Harry was such an easy baby, easy going and hardly ever cried. However, three months later things swiftly took a turn when she quickly realised that he was going to be a colicky baby. Seeing her little baby boy in pain, screaming and inconsolable just simply broke her heart, but it just meant that he needed a little more attention. She’d quickly learned his favorite remedy was a warm bath and a comfy swaddle, followed by some cuddles and he’d be right back off to sleep. She still thinks the reason that they’re still so close now is because of that extra bonding time.

Harry’s dad had always been distant from him. He was never home, And when he was, he wanted Anne’s full attention, and when he wasn’t getting that anymore, because, you know, she was busy raising an infant by herself, he grew selfishly jealous of the child that he created. When he hit her in front of her son, that was it. She made the split decision that she didn’t want this life for Harry, or for her. She waited until he fell asleep that night, packed what she could, took her baby and left. Moved to London and never saw or heard from him again.

Harry was six years old when his mum first got sick. It started out as headaches and a fever that would come and go, but it got worse. To be specific, an autoimmune disease that was attacking her muscles and joints. It got so bad that she couldn’t even brush her hair, let alone take proper care of a six year old. Long story short, Harry learned quickly and at a young age how to take care of himself. when Harry wasn’t in school all he wanted to do was take care of her. He’d always wake up early on the weekends and make her second favorite breakfast...waffles. Her first favorite was pancakes, but he couldn’t make those, only because he knew that his mummy said the stove wasn’t safe and that he couldn’t use it by himself, because he could burn his fingers.

Three years go by and things are really tough. Anne could no longer work, so without her knowledge, Harry began to improvise. He started selling some of his toys to his friends at school during playtime. By the time almost all of his toys were gone he’d managed to gain thirty five dollars, and he was so proud of himself. But when he saw one of the medical bills totals on the kitchen counter, he knew he was going to have to try something else. Every monday his mum gave him five dollars to pay for lunch at school for the whole week. So instead of eating lunch, he kept it in his backpack with the other thirty five. His friends always shared their lunch with him so that he wouldn’t go hungry all day, and no one ever found out. Week by week the amount seemed to add up quickly. Before he knew it it was the end of the school year he had one hundred and ninety five dollars. He counted it twice just to be sure, but it didn’t matter because it still wasn’t enough.

He was sad, extremely sad and angry. Three more years go by and his mum is in the hospital recovering from surgery. He couldn’t help feeling so many things all at once. His mum was his best friend, why on earth was this happening to her, to him?

One afternoon Harry was walking home from school. It was gloomy and dreary, typical London weather. He wanted to get home faster so he could get to the hospital to see her, so he chose to make a quick shortcut down an alley to his left. As he walked he noticed a group of boys older than him, maybe fourteen or fifteen, on the side of the alley. Before he could turn around or walk past them, of course, they surrounded him. It felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

He was getting jumped.

“I-I haven’t got anything.”

One of them held his arms in a tight grasp whilst another one yanked the backpack off his shoulders, dumping the contents, including the wads of cash, onto the asphalt.

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

Harry’s eyes instantly widened, struggling with all the strength in his body, desperately trying to get free. He couldn’t let them do this.

“No! Please, please don’t. I’ll do anything you want, but I need that money!”

“So do we.”

A fist landed against his cheek and before he knew it he was on the ground being beaten senseless.

“It’s not for me!” he tried, throwing his hands up in front of his face in an attempt to defend himself. “It’s for my mum, she’s sick.”

“Hey! How many times have I told you to quit causin’ trouble back ‘ere?!”

Harry was wide eyed as he saw a man, probably a store owner since he came around the back corner. They quickly ran off empty handed. The man’s face changed from angry to bewildered as he saw Harry’s face.

And as if on fucking cue, it started to rain. Pour, actually.

“No, no, no…”

Harry scrambles to his knees and crawls forward, trying to salvage the dampened green paper, shoving it back into his backpack.

“Are you alright?!”

That was the moment that Harry’s life changed forever.

The man, who Harry quickly learned was named Joe, did more than just clean up the young boy’s bloody face. They started talking and Harry told him everything. About his father, the piling medical bills, everything—and in that moment Joe knew he had to help him.

Every day after that, after school Harry would go to Joe’s bar and work for him. Small jobs—sweep the floor, clean the tables, things like that. He took Harry in, looked after him when his mum couldn’t and gave him advice like the father he’d never had.

The day Harry turned seventeen was the day his mum was officially in remission. Harry had been saving every single penny he’d made over the last five years, which was enough to really help out with their situation until his mum could go back to work. He was over the moon, he didn’t think he’d ever see the day that she’d be feeling like herself again.

Harry didn’t really plan on going to college because even if his mum was better, he always wanted to be able to visit and check on her. After he graduated, he moved into the apartment upstairs above the bar, and the rest is history.

And that leads us to now. Four years later at twenty one Harry is everyone’s favorite bartender, who's crushing hard on this truly one of a kind girl that walked into his life only a few months ago, and he can’t remember what life was like without her in it.

Despite how the job sounds, they both loved every second of it. Especially when they worked together. When they weren’t busy, they were constantly messing with each other, usually it was him teasing her whenever she tripped over her own feet, almost spilling a plate or glass and when she’d come back behind the bar he’d be smirking “y’not drunk are yeh?” and she’d mumble a “shut up.” making him chuckle.

But they were incredibly soft for each other, there was no way around it.

One time, Harry called in sick, and if he would’ve seen the look of disappointment mixed with sadness on her face, he might have just said fuck it and came in to work just to make her happy or at least see her smile, despite the food posioning.

That’s what she did to him. All rationale was lost, even if it was just for a moment.

When he came back, his co-workers filled him in, telling him that she was all sad and pouting through the whole shift. It made his heart ache, made him want to kiss the pout right off her lips,

because her lips were so pretty.

But it also made his heart beat a little faster.

He caught himself staring more and more as the months went by, their friendship torturing him day by day. It was truly a sick joke—being her friend but not being able to feel her soft skin under his touch, kiss her anywhere, anytime he wanted.

Was this karma? What did he do to deserve this?

He’s never been a day dreamer, until now. She’s in his head all the time and he can’t stop thinking about what his life would be like if he could just muster up enough confidence to tell her that he loves the way she pushes her hair behind her ears, or how he’s been dying to kiss her since she walked in the door on her first day.

He remembers that day like it was yesterday.

***

Harry was wiping down the bar, cell phone cradled between his ear and shoulder as he listened to his boss tell him about his newest hire being a new waitress.

“Hope this one sticks.” he mumbled, a small smirk appearing on his face as he dried off the inside of one of the glasses. “M’not gettin’ paid to wait tables, Joe.”

“Oh piss off, I’m payin’ you more than that.” a laugh was shared between the two before he continued.

“She’s already been trained, but it’s her first day by herself, so be nice.”

“M’always nice. It’s those other vultures you’ve got to worry about.”

Harry wasn’t exaggerating. The other waitresses were like wild animals, they’d either attack you or try to have sex with you.

“Just look out for her, will you? Don’t want her bein’ eaten alive on her first day and then she’s too scared to come back.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, I’ll keep y’updated. Have fun on your holiday.”

“Thanks again for taking care of everything, I really appreciate it.”

“S’the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.” the humor in his voice slowly faded, his tone becoming more serious.

Don’t get soft on me now.” his response to Harry’s sentiment makes him chuckle.

“Okay, okay. But m’serious, don’ know where I’d be without your help.”

When he hung up the phone, as if on fucking cue, he hears the front door open.

***

Everything about her was perfect. Her hair looked like silk, even if it was tied back while she was working with some baby hairs falling around her face. Her skin was flawless—he loves it when she doesn’t wear any makeup, like today. He found her rosy cheeks and naturally long eyelashes to be undeniably adorable.

“H?”

His head snapped up at her voice. It was sweet, like the sugar he always puts on the rim of her glass when he makes her mojitos some nights after they close up. Harry thinks he’d do anything she wanted if she asked him nicely.

“Earth to Harry.” she jokingly waves her hand in front of his face. “It’s almost two.”

“Oh, shit. Wasn’t even lookin’ a’ the time.” he chuckled. “Thanks, love.”

“No problem.” Her cheeks were splashed with pink, looking at her shoes before turning to walk away.

To this day, Harry doesn’t know what on earth possessed him to do this. But for some reason, three words popped into his head.

Make a move.

“Hey.” he stops her from walking away by taking her hand and pulling her towards him.

“What?” she giggles as she turns her head to look at him.

“C’mere.”

The look on his face was giving her butterflies. He blinked slowly, a small smile curved across his lips.

“Got a new drink idea, can I try it out on ya?”

She lets out a nervous giggle before nodding her head.

She felt like an idiot because she really thought that he was going to kiss her. She wanted to feel his lips on her lips, her skin. And god, did he want to kiss her. He felt like an idiot because that wasn’t really a move. He wanted to kiss her, so fucking bad but he got nervous. How couldn’t he? She was his friend, and so, so beautiful. What if she didn’t want to be more than friends? It was a scary thought, rejection. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship, he cared about her too much to ruin that. Wouldn’t it be awkward, if things didn’t work out, or she didn’t want him in the first place, and they still had to work together? Harry just might have to crawl under a rock.

But she wore her heart on her sleeve, so she couldn’t really hide the sadness in her eyes as her gaze fell to her hands as he was mixing the contents that were going to go in the lowball glass. It pained him to see her anything but her usual bubbly, sweet self.

“S’wrong?” Harry frowned, but she shook her head.

“Nothin’. Just waiting on you, like always.”

His mouth fell open at your accusation.

“Since when?” he scoffs. “M’always waitin’ on you.”

“When?” she challenges, eyebrows furrowing.

Harry playfully rolls his eyes. “When we were goin’ t’that festival, or anytime we do somethin’ outside of work, yeh always take forever to get ready.”

Because she wanted to look super cute for you, you idiot.

“I messed up my makeup, okay? Gimme a break.”

She’s sitting on the bar stool and he’s behind the bar, leaning onto his elbows and stopping what he’s doing to look at her.

“Y’dont need tha’ stuff.”

She gives him a sheepish smile, but Harry’s not having any of it.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey.” he reaches over and puts a hand under her chin, finger brushing the skin of her jaw and his touch gives her butterflies. “Look a’ me?”

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, earning a smile on his pink lips.

“S’true. You’re beautiful and you don’t need it, okay?”

A soft smile graced her lips, making his small smile wider. “Okay, okay.”

“Alright, here.” he slid the glass across the bar top towards her. She takes a sip and her eyes light up, making his do the same.

“Mmm, it’s so good!” she looks up at him, eyes widening, making him laugh.

She loved his laugh.

“Know you like to start off with the fruity stuff.”

“Careful.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I know how much you love those cranberry vodkas.”

“And they’re delicious. Especially mine.”

“Definitely yours.” her comment makes Harry giggle, looking at his hands and you’re positive it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. He looks at her, flicking his head.

“C’mere, I’ll show yeh how t’make one.”

Her whole face lights up. “Really?” and her excitement is so adorable he can’t help but mirror her expression with a laugh.

“Mhm, c’mon.”

She’s standing behind the bar and Harry’s standing behind her, showing her the ropes, as he called it. But when she felt his chest pressed against her back as he went through the steps, she could no longer focus on anything he was saying, which worked in his favor because he stumbled across his words quite a bit at the feeling. They were physically closer than they’ve ever been and she smelled so fucking good. He rests his head on her left shoulder, gripping the bar top in front of her.

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and he finally speaks up.

“Wanna try?”

He picks up the lowball glass, bringing it up to her lips. He moves his hand, tilting the drink to meet your lips. The interaction was so intimate, and you could feel his breath on your ear.

“Good?”

His voice was deeper, sending shivers down her spinal cord. She nods and he moves beside her, (much to her disappointment) and leans one of his elbows onto the surface beside him. She turns to him, and takes the glass out of his grasp as he’s taking a sip.

“S’not nice!” he laughs as she takes a drink, giggling as he gets in her face.

“S’your turn to make me a drink now.”

One hour later and she was three drinks in, which meant that she was on the verge of drunk. She made him two replicas of the cocktail he’d helped her make just before, and he claimed that hers were just as good, but she still wasn’t too sure if he was letting her win or not. She wasn’t drunk, though.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” the smirk sliding up his lips told a different story.

“Liar!” she giggled, and she tries to walk towards him but her legs betray her as she trips over her own sneakers and falls into his chest.

“Okay, you’re drunk.” he confirms with a chuckle, catching her by her forearms helping her to stand again.

“M’not drunk, shoelace is untied.” she tries to lift up her leg to show him the definitely loose laces, but she loses her balance and nearly falls onto the wood floor, and if Harry hadn’t grabbed her hand when he did she would’ve definitely had a sore backside.

“Maybe I am drunk.” she mumbles, pouting when she hears his chuckle. “Not funny, H.”

His stomach drops when he sees that she’s looking right at him with tears threatening to spill onto her soft cheeks.

“No, m’sorry love. Didn’t mean it, okay? Promise.” He uses his thumb to brush the skin just under her eye. “Please, don’t cry.”

The rest of the tears subside at Harry’s comforting gesture. They stood like that for a while, eye contact refusing to break before she spoke up.

“Do you like me?”

Did she really just say that? Was he that drunk? He was definitely more than tipsy, but did she really just say that?! Was he dreaming? Please let this not be a dream.

His heart thumped in his chest when her fingers started playing with his.

“Now what’s not to like about you, darlin’?”

That’s sweet, but not what I asked, she thinks to herself.

She could not believe the level of bravery in her blood right now. She wasn’t even that drunk and words that she thought she would never say were spilling out.

As she was about to respond, she lets out a yawn, her previous thoughts quickly slipping her mind.

“Tired?’ he questions as he cocks his head to the side, a grin sliding up his lips.

“Mhm. Still need to walk home.” she frowns and his eyes go wide.

“Can’t let y’walk home alone-”

“I do it every other night.” she protests, clearly getting frustrated.

The thought of her walking back to her apartment alone at 3 am, sober or not, made his stomach turn. He ignores her attempt at convincing him that she’s fine, because there is no way he’s letting this happen.

“ Y’can stay with me? S’just upstairs.”

His voice was quiet and it took a moment for her to register what he’d said.

“Wait, what d’you mean upstairs?”

“There’s a flat upstairs, s’mine.”

The confusion on her face made his heart want to melt.

“C’mon, I’ll carry you.”

She feels another yawn coming and he picks her up—one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. She lays her head on his shoulder, and he’s so warm—she can’t help but nuzzle her face into his neck and he thinks he could very well pass out, but he won’t, because he’s holding her, obviously.

He sets her down onto his bed, and tells her she can pick whatever looks comfy from his dresser to wear as pj’s.

“M’gonna go get some water, okay? Be right back, love.”

She picks out a stones t-shirt and changes into that because honestly, it’s one of the first things she sees and it smells like him and she’s tired.

He comes back upstairs and she’s laying down on his dark sheets, her back to him with her hair fanned out on his pillow. He walks around to the other side and sits down next to her. She feels the bed dip, opens one eye and pouts when she sees the water bottle in his hand.

“I know love, just drink some for me? Y’know it’ll make you feel better tomorrow.”

He encourages her to sit up and he doesn’t let her lay back down until she’s had at least half, and then covers her up with his blanket before

“I’ll just be on the sofa. If y’need anything in the middle of the night let me know, alright?”

“No, stay.”

His breath hitched inside his throat. He swallowed thickly before replying.

“You want me to stay?”

She nods. “Don’t leave me.”

She wants him to stay.

“I won’t, s’alright.”

After a small freak out episode in the bathroom while he changed, he gets into bed next to you.

Harry always had trouble falling asleep, but tonight it only took a few minutes and he was softly snoring into his pillow.

The light peeking through the curtains was what slowly pulled her out of sleep.

“G’mornin’ sleepyhead.”

She couldn’t help the lazy smile across her lips, letting out a giggle as she stretched.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. Do you want somethin’ to eat?”

“Can I have some waffles?”

So, he made her some waffles. Some for him too. Harry didn’t have a dining table so he insisted she stay put while he make them breakfast in bed. He watches her take her first bite and he swears that this is the moment when he truly fell in love with her.

“Mmmm.” she hums, eyes closed with a dopey, syrupy smile across her lips. “So good.”

The reaction made him quite literally crack up laughing, because those waffles were from his bloody freezer and she was acting like Harry had just ordered room service to their hotel room in Paris.

He’d take her to Paris.

“So, how’d you end up living here?” she wondered out loud, breaking Harry out of his daydream.

He proceeded to tell her everything. About his piece of shit dad, his mum getting sick, getting jumped, and how Joe took Harry in and was the father he’d never had. When he’s finished, her hand is on the back of his neck pulling him into a protective hug, lightly toying with his hair.

“I’m so sorry, H.”

Her voice is just above a whisper and it makes Harry’s eyelashes flutter.

She pulls away and they instantly find each other’s eyes. He gives her a small smile, as if to say, it’s okay.

She looks at him with doe eyes and he can’t help but reach over and pushes her hair behind one of her ears, the space in between their faces becoming smaller and smaller, until his nose brushes hers.

“Can I kiss you?”

She gives him a small nod.

He cautiously presses his lips to hers. The kiss is everything both of them have ever dreamed of and so much more. Her hand is still on the back of his neck and he’s moved to cradle her cheeks in his hands, and they fit perfectly.

Neither of you want the kiss to end, both of them breathless as Harry’s forehead is pressed against hers.

“I really, really like you, had feelings for you for a long time.” you heart flutters in your chest at his sweet words. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he waited for you to say something, anything.

“I really, really like you too.”

This is my baby, be nice to her. I’ve pulled many all nighters to make this as close to perfect as it can be so I hope you love it <3

Thank you to @oh-honey-styles , @for-fucks-sake-h and @andwhenshesays for putting this Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge together, I’m so glad I could be a part of it!

BIG THANKS to my babies @goldenfeelin , @bfharry and @avhrodite for truly hyping me up and being so supportive, I love you. <3

#pypfc

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Moonlight (PJM x Reader)

➵ Your mother has always warned you against entering the forest. Two years ago, your friend Jimin was lost to the trees, with no one brave enough to search after him. But, when you find yourself unable to resist the tug of adventure, you run into Jimin, rumpled, but alive. Can you and Jimin escape the clutches of the forest? And can you discover what- or who- is behind the disappearances that plague your village?

➵ Pairing: Jimin x Reader x ???

➵ Word Count: 3K

➵ Masterlist

Your mother is wrong about a lot of things.

She was wrong about how many yards of fabric it takes to weave a skirt; the village girls don’t want a skirt that goes all the way down to their ankles, it’ll only trail on the ground and make the hem all muddied. She was wrong about the correct method of planting flowers; you often had to replant them all after she had gone to bed to ensure the roots took hold properly. She was even wrong about your father. In the end, he hadn’t been able to overcome the fever.

But one thing she was definitely not wrong about is the importance of not getting lost in the woods.

These woods are home to many folktales. Silly rumours and fancies housewives tell to keep themselves amused, of course, but that doesn’t stop the villagers from drawing their curtains a little tighter at night. Doesn’t explain the two men, four women, and one child who vanished, one by one, moments after venturing into the thicket of trees.

You tug your cloak around you, as if it can protect you from the looming shadows cast by the sun, who’s light can no longer reach you. Blocked by gnarled branches and browned leaves. From the safety of the village outskirts, the forest seemed like a teeming haven of life, brightly coloured flowers you had never seen before bursting from the banks of the grass, swaying lightly in a summer-scented breeze.

You knew your mother — everyone’s mothers, really — warned people explicitly against wandering into the forest, but the berries growing at the foot of that willow tree were just the perfect shade for the scarf that girl, Jeongyeon, if you’re remembering correctly, had requested. And then, when you crouched down to pick them, you saw a cluster of dandelions more rich in colour than any you had ever seen before, and so you willingly went, step by step, deeper into the forest.

And now you find the path you took has somehow become overgrown by brambles.

“Okay,” You whisper to yourself, turning slowly on the spot, trying to catch sight of a clear path to take, “It’s alright, you’re alright, you’ll be back home in time for dinner and mother will be pleased with all the dyes you’ll be able to make.”

Your words, though soft-spoken, are not exactly comforting. The forest, which had sounded so full of life, the shifting of the breeze and rustling plants and birdsong, is now deadly silent. The air seems to absorb every syllable your mouth forms, hollowing it out and spitting it onto the dead leaves blanketing the forest floor.

You decide to retrace your footsteps, sunken into the dry mud and twigs like an embossment. It’s strange, you could have sworn you had come from the other direction, but you guess that your sense of orientation is less than perfect since you can’t make out the sun and your only surroundings are an army of eerily similar trees.

As you move further from the heart of the forest, it almost seems to get darker. You worry the sun has begun to set. Mother must be looking for you. The full-basket swings against your legs, the rustle of the plants within as they shift over each other comforting you somewhat. You’d rather be loud, than be reminded of that heart-wrenching silence at the centre of the forest.

You’re glad you’ve escaped it, certainly. With any luck, you’ll be at home before your mother can use the excuse of anger over your actions to make you scrub the floors of the cottage. Sugar, your grumpy cat, has the unfortunate habit of leaving little presents tucked under rugs and furniture, a not-so-pleasant surprise for whoever’s turn it is to clean.

A whisper. A laugh. Suddenly, the snap of twigs crushed underfoot is not the only sound you can detect. You wonder excitedly if this means the village is just out of sight, beyond the thick gathering of trees and branches. Maybe you’re overhearing the village children playing? You prepare yourself to scold them for wandering this far out. Hopefully they won’t realise that you’re too far out as well, and therefore in no position to criticise.

However, as you grow closer, you realise that it isn’t laughter you can hear. It is the sound of someone weeping.

You break into a run without a second thought. What if they’re hurt? What if they’re scared? What if they’re lost, like you? Except you aren’t lost, you remind yourself firmly, you’re making your way out. It’s just… taking a while.

You stumble into a clearing, which you must have managed to circumvent on your way into the forest, and in the centre… is a boy. A man? You can’t really tell, with the way he’s hunched over himself, strands of dirty blonde hair covering his face.

His shoulders are shaking with the force of his quiet sobs, he doesn’t seem to notice your presence at all as you inch further into the clearing, towards the ray of light that breaks through the forest canopy, bathing him in an almost ethereal glow.

Once you are close enough, you reach out a hand to touch him. He stills, but does not look up.

“Hello,” You say tentatively, brushing over the surprisingly soft fabric of his shirt, “Are you alright?”

You receive no response, and a curl of sympathy tugs in your gut. This could have been you, if you hadn’t the sense to retrace your steps.

“What’s your name?” You try again, and the boy murmurs something inaudible. “Sorry?”

“My name’s Jimin.” He says, and as he finally looks up, you gasp.

Jimin. The first boy that went missing, almost two years ago; his bride-to-be was inconsolable for months. He used to come to you for dye to treat his hair. Your first crush.

“And yours?”

“Huh?”

Jimin’s insistent gaze pulls you out of your memories, his hand outstretched and open. Expectant.

“Your name?”

“You don’t remember me?” You reply, slightly hurt, before hurriedly composing yourself and helping him up. His hands grip tightly around yours, warming slightly as you give him your name. You wonder how long it has been since he touched another person. You squeeze his hand back.

“Remember me?” You try again, “From the village? My mother’s the seamstress?”

“Oh… yes,” Jimin says, a slight smile of reminiscence curving around his full lips, “I remember you.”

“I’m glad.” You smile, swinging his hand between yours. “Come on, follow me.”

You tug him through the forest, following the path you are sure leads back to the village. You don’t know how, exactly, but you can just feel it. Your steps are practically taken for you, the grass cushioning your every move and pushing you onwards.

“So… how have you… survived these past few years?” You ask cautiously, at odds with the curiosity burning on the tip of your tongue. Jimin smiles at you, and you smile back encouragingly.

“It wasn’t very hard, really. The forest is full of things to eat, and natural springs to bathe in. It was… an escape.” He sighs, almost wistful.

Confusion digs a crevice in between your brows — why was Jimin crying when you found him if he was happy here? And… how could anyone be happy, isolated from everyone they’ve grown up around?

But, it isn’t your place to judge him, you remind yourself. After nearly two years on his own, it’s remarkable Jimin is still pleasant to look at, let alone talk to.

“Everyone will be so happy to see you!” You say, to change the subject. “I’m sure you’re glad to know Areum never married anyone else.”

At the mention of his former fiancée, his face darkens abruptly. He stops, forcing you to halt as well since your hands are still tightly intwined.

“I… My fiancée was actually part of the reason why I left.”

For perhaps the fifth time in the past few hours, you are shocked.

“You- You left… voluntarily?”

“I did not wish to marry her.” Jimin replies simply, and you gape at him.

“So you’d rather live in the wild? Areum is the prettiest girl in the village!”

“She is not.” Jimin states, looking you dead in the eye, “Besides, I do not want to marry the prettiest girl, or the girl my parents picked out for me so I would give them grandchildren. I wanted…”

Jimin trails off, his dark eyes flashing as the sun catches them. Under the light, they reflect it back as pure snow, the bright shade almost hard to look at. Your gaze drops to the ground.

“…I want to marry my one true love.” Jimin finishes, quietly but no less fervent.

“But, if your one true love wasn’t Areum, then who…”

Jimin simply stares at you, and you blanch.

“It- it isn’t…it can’t be…” You flounder, but his gaze refuses to waver. “Me?”

“Who else?” He says, and you splutter. You try to drop his hand, but he merely tightens his grip, and you have to remind yourself that Jimin has been on his own for the past two years, and you should be patient with him.

“I- Jimin. I am sorry, but I don’t feel the same way.”

Though his expression doesn’t alter, something changes in his eyes. He becomes a little less open, and a little more guarded. The guilt doesn’t waste any time before flooding into you with sadistic relish.

“Just…let’s just get back to the village, and everything will be okay.”

“…Okay.” He eventually replies, and you give him a gentle smile. He does not return it.

You can’t tell how much time passes. Neither sunlight nor moonlight can break through the leaves, and with Jimin everything seems to pass by much slower. The guilt you feel over turning him down — god, you’re the first person he sees in two years and almost the first thing you do is reject him — weighs down your every step, until you are almost trudging.

You don’t even notice the branch leaning down overhead, directly in your path, until Jimin holds it up as you pass beneath with a strength you didn’t know he possessed. You guess living in the forest must have hardened him, even though his cheeks have that familiar, soft curve, and his light hair looks as silky as it always did.

“Thank you,” You murmur, and he laughs quietly behind you. Perhaps because of your voice, which sounds as tired as your muscles feel.

“It’s my pleasure.” He replies, squeezing your hand a little tighter. You grip it back, happy that he seems to have forgiven you for earlier, or at least forgotten.

You come across a flight of steps carved into the mud, edged with boards of carved wood. They trail off out of the forest, and you take the opportunity to rest, sitting down on the first step and dangling your legs over the ledge.

Jimin sits beside you, and you’re too exhausted to stop yourself from leaning against his side. He kindly wraps an arm around you to steady you. You had forgotten how nice Jimin was, before he left. You’re very lucky you found him, you decide, otherwise you really might have gotten lost.

You trail a finger over the whorled design carved into the wood beneath you, trying to decipher what looks like an entirely different alphabet. There are etchings too, small figures dancing and drinking and… procreating — you move your finger away from that panel with a blush — and you are struck with a realisation.

“These steps… they’re manmade, of course, they have to be. That means… we must be getting close to the edge of the forest!”

Jimin chuckles as your fatigued, slurring voice gives a weak attempt at excitement, stroking his hand over the curve of your waist.

“I guess it does. Do you want me to carry you? You must be getting quite tired now.”

“No… ‘m strong,” You insist, but don’t protest as he kneels in front of you, scooping your bent legs and securing them at either side of his thighs, looping your arms around his neck as he stands with you plastered along his back.

“Of course you are, dearest.” He breathes, not winded at all as he begins running down the steps.

His footfalls are light, you notice, like he’s prancing down the steep incline. You remember he always used to dance at the maypole festival, and how magical, ethereal he appeared to you back then. You had begged your mother for weeks afterwards for dancing lessons, but she had told you there simply wasn’t the money.

Your weight does not seem to be any added burden for him as he practically flies down the steps. Your eyes are drooping closed, but you stubbornly wrench them open each time, wanting to see the outskirts of the village appear once you finally reach the end of the stairs. You don’t remember using them to enter the forest, but- well. This must be a different way out.

Except, the village does not appear at the end of the steps. Jimin sets you down by the roots of a colossal tree, which you can’t believe you haven’t noticed before. The clean white bark stretches a mile into the sky. The thick roots form a sort of seat around you, and the grass beneath you is soft, comforting. Under the shade, it almost appears blue.

“Jimin, w-why are we stopping? Do you… do you need a rest?”

Jimin laughs, but this time, it sounds more high-pitched. Less controlled. A shiver trips down your spine uncomfortably, rung by rung, like it’s being held back at every step. Like he wants you to remain calm.

“That’s very considerate of you, my dearest, but I’m alright.”

“T-then-” You struggle to say, wondering if you’re really this out of shape, that a day’s walk can wind you so much. But, to be honest, you don’t know if it’s been a day. Time seems to trickle by like honey. “Then… why are w-we, uhm… stopping?”

“Because we’re here.” Jimin smiles unsettlingly.

“Here?”

“Well,” He deliberates, “We aren’t there yet, but this is where we have to be. As soon as the moonlight comes out, we’ll get there.”

“J-Jimin, what’s…um, what’s going on?” You ask, feeling an edge of hysteria come into your voice, “When are we going home?”

His laugh this time feels like a scream. Not his scream. Yours. It warms in your mouth, but before it can spill out, something tugs it back. An invisible hand wraps itself lovingly around your throat, and you realise you can no longer speak.

“Oh, you’re just as naïve as he was.”

…what?

Jimin reads the question in your eyes, or does he? Can he hear it rattling around your head? Can he taste the word on your useless, unspeaking lips?

“When he first came to this forest… oh, he was desperate. They say love makes fools of us all, but, it really possessed him mind and soul.” Jimin laughs again. He seems to be much more comfortable now, happy as you lie against the roots of the tree, unmoving. “You don’t understand why that’s funny yet, but don’t worry, dearest, I’ll explain. I love seeing that look in your eye.”

“Jimin loved you more than I’ve ever seen anyone love anything, but his love didn’t make him strong. It made him into a coward. He could barely look at you before he was running away again. Don’t you wonder why he bought all that dye from you?”

Jimin paces along the ground as he talks, but-

He isn’t pacing, he’s floating. The air prevents Jimin from crushing the grass under his bare feet, buoyed along the invisible currents of the jasmine-scented breeze wafting around the base of the tree.

“He heard talk of the Faeries, and he came to us, begged us to make him strong. He promised to lure in tributes for us, bring us other things to play with, as long as we promised never to harm you.”

If you had control over your own breath, it would have stopped cold. The other missing boy. The missing women, all regular attendants of Jimin’s dance class. The little girl, who’s mother had cried for weeks after her disappearance. Who had been found dead in her cottage two days after she was told to give up looking.

“And so, we fulfilled our side of the bargain accordingly. We made him strong, brave, worthy… by making him one of our own.” The thing wearing Jimin’s face smiles, and it’s the ugliest sight you’ve ever seen. “I became him, and he became me. Hello.”

“You… you killed him.” You groan, and Jimin coos.

He crouches in front of you, reaching a hand out to stroke the side of your face. If you had the energy, you would bite him.

“Don’t worry, my love, he’s still here. You talked to him earlier, actually. As soon as we realised you were lurking on the outside of the forest, he became very excited. Insisted that he should be the one to talk to you first. It’s only after you turned him down that I took over.”

Jimi- the faerie’s eyes glow white, and you realise that it wasn’t sunlight reflecting in Jimin’s eyes back then. It was madness.

“After all this time living inside of his head, I have grown rather… fond of you. I love you as he does, and we’ve decided to share you.”

“I don’t… I don’t want you…” You mumble, and Jimin smirks, gathering you in his arms again and standing up.

“It doesn’t matter what you want anymore, beloved. You’re ours, remember? You gave us your name.”

A bolt of light strikes a leaf. A flash of memory, shoved from his mind to yours.

“My name’s Jimin. And yours?”

A hand outstretched, expectant, waiting impatiently for an offering.

A smile as you give him your name.

Your mother had always told you not to go into the forest, and you had never thought to ask why, blissfully ignorant as you fell headfirst into a faerie’s trap.

“That’s…not…” You try to struggle, and find that you can’t, “I… I didn’t k-know-”

“Oh, I know you didn’t, my love.” Jimin coos as his stranglehold on your mind tightens, “It’s okay, don’t fuss, it’ll be alright. I’m taking you home.”

“The… the village?” You ask hopefully, and Jimin snickers, delicate and so heartbreakingly cruel.

“No, my home. Our new home.”

The moonlight shatters through the forest canopy like glass, and Jimin pulls you down into the faerie realm, never to return to the warmth of sunlight again.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jimin x reader #park jimin #yandere! au #yandere kpop #bts reader insert #yandere bts #bts au #park jimin fic #supernatural yandere au #yandere jimin #bts x reader #Yandere jimin x reader #yandere bts x reader

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deathbymeow · 3 years

Text

First Encounter

Adrien stood in the foyer of the penthouse apartment. His limbs frozen as he saw her for the first time in three years. He couldn’t turn back now but he didn’t know how to move forwards either.

She’d been the only thing driving him forward, the only thing keeping him sane until he could return but he hadn’t expected his body to fail him like this.

Marinette moved in time with the music. Her dark hair flowed over her bare shoulders spilling down her back. The slip dress she wore moved hypnotically against her skin as her bare feet travelled over the timber floor. She hadn’t seen him, and he still wasn’t sure if he wanted her too.

Before he could decide, Luka walked into view and headed straight towards Marinette. Luka grabbed her waist and turned her around to face him. Words were exchanged between them before Marinette wrapped her hands around Luka’s neck and pulled him down. As she kissed him a wave of nausea hit Adrien and the reality of his absence hit him like a tonne of bricks.

It had been three years since he’d been shipped off to New York. Adrien had tried to rebel against the dictatorship that was Gabriel Agreste, but after 29 people including some of his classmates and Marinette’s father had died in a fatal akuma attack, there was no reasoning with him.

Adrien was barely seventeen, in his last years of schooling before he went to collage. He could have ran, hell he wanted to but he’d been riddled with guilt so he went not knowing when he would return.

Adrien knew what it felt like to be isolated after living with his cold father for years but living with his Aunt and cousin Felix had been a whole new kind of torture. He’d been closely watched and always had his bodyguard with him.

Chloe had been the only one allowed to visit him and only because of the family connection. With her mother living in New York, she visited often. Chloe constantly lectured him about coming home. Even the fact that his passport was hidden from him didn’t stop her suggesting that she could sneak him out of the country on her private jet. Communication with his other friends had been heavily monitored but Chloe would always return home with dozens of letters he’d written to Marinette. The information to sensitive and private to run the risk of anyone else’s eyes.

Adrien had just turned twenty giving him access to his trust fund that held a sizable amount from his years of modelling as well as his Mothers inheritance. Gabriel and his Aunt had lost their power over him. He demanded his passport back with threats he’d take the matter to the embassy and press charges.

Adrien only wished he’d done it sooner. Chloe had been right he was avoiding his responsibility’s back in Paris. He still hadn’t come to terms with the guilt, but he knew he couldn’t go on without seeing her. He was willing to do whatever it took to win her heart back. So, Adrien let Chloe organize all the details of his flight and before he knew it he was finally home.

Now standing in Chloe’s apartment he was a ball of nerves. The girl in front of him no longer looked like the girl he’d left behind. Her cute piggy tails had been abandoned long ago. Now her hair tumbled halfway down her back, her long bangs fell in her eyes and framed her pretty face as she kissed Luka.

“Hey bro, there you are. I thought we were going to meet in the lobby?” Nino said as he caught sight of what held Adrien’s attention. “Oh man, dude, I’m sorry he wasn’t meant to be here tonight.”

Adrien shook his head and turned to leave. He knew there was history between Marinette and Luka, but no one had informed him that they were still a thing. His chest hurt and the air in the room suddenly seemed to dissolve.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why did he ever think he still had a chance with her. He wanted to leave but Nino grabbed his arm and dragged him down a hallway and out onto a balcony.

“Adrien, I’m so sorry you had to see that dude.” Nino shook his head and leaned on the railing watching Adrien closely.

“Shit Nino, why didn’t you tell me instead of letting me hope I still had a chance?” Adrien was still struggling to breath. He grabbed onto the railing and lowered his head hoping to steady his trembling hands and ease the twisted feeling in his gut.

“It’s not what you think Adrien. I mean, I know it looks bad and yeah it’s no secret that Luka loves her, but she refuses to commit to him or anything for that matter.” Alya appeared in the doorway and headed straight for Adrien. “Marinette isn’t the same girl anymore. She struggles to let any of us in.”

“Hey, Alya.” Adrien turned around and hugged her.

“Hey Sunshine, it won’t be easy, but she needs you.” Alya said ruffling his blonde hair.

“Alya, she never wrote back. I… I tried to explain everything. Hell, I even told her multiple times just how much I loved her, but I never heard from her. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, do you really think I still have a chance?”

“Do you still love her?” Alya asked leaning against Nino.

“More than I thought possible.” Adrien looked away at the distant lights. He thought over time his feeling may have dulled but instead they’d only intensified to the point he felt like he’d left a piece of his heart and soul in Paris.

“Then fight for her. Even if that means you have to fight her until she lets her defences down.” Alya said firmly.

“Alya’s right dude, she would never admit it, but she’s been lost without you.” Nino added.

“You guys are forgetting something though. The akuma attack that killed her pappa it was, it is my fault. She has every right to hate me.” Adrien inhaled and held it hoping to stop the tears that wanted to escape.

“Adrien, no. Just no. It’s Hawkmoth’s fault. We were just kids trying our hardest against a madman.” Alya grabbed his arms and gave him a light shake. “She needs you, whether she knows it or not.”

“Al has a point dude. You need to go talk to her.”

“Nino wait.” Adrien shook his head and grabbed his best friend’s arm. “I’m not ready.”

“Bro you got this, you just need a little push.” Before Adrien could say anything else Alya and Nino disappeared inside leaving him alone on the balcony.

“Kid he’s right. It’s been long enough. How many times do I have to tell you, she doesn’t blame you.” Plagg flew out of his jacket pocket and floated in front of his face, crossing his little paws as he went.

“Plagg, you don’t know that for sure.” Adrien looked over the edge again as his mind travailed back to that night.

When all the dust cleared, and they realised what couldn’t be fixed with the miraculous cure, Ladybug fell apart. With no lucky charm to fix the damage there were bodies’ left everywhere. The battle had been intense, and all the miraculous holders had been in play. A devastated Chat had carried the inconsolable Ladybug into an abandon building with Rena, Caprice, Viperion and Queen Bee. Everyone heard their miraculous beeping, but no one could move. When the beeping stopped Adrien had been left cradling a sobbing Marinette while their friends looked on.

It killed him to leave Ladybug alone to face Hawkmoth and Marinette alone to grieve but she’d refused to see him. There were no goodbyes and no closure to the reality of their civilian identity’s. Something he’d tried to address in his letters.

Ladybug had the help of the other miraculous holders after he left, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed that her fight had become almost ruthless. Her new super suit looked like it belonged out of the video game, Assassin’s creed. She no longer smiled, and Adrien could clearly see what others might miss. Her eyes showed the internal battle and pain she wouldn’t let go of. A silent rage like an electrical storm without the thunder to warn you of the danger.

……….

Marinette knew he was back. She also didn’t know if she was ready to confront her once school crush and silly pun throwing partner who happened to be the same blonde-haired green-eyed boy she loved.

To many emotions swirled around her head and heart when it came to him. She was furious and hurt that he left her to pick up all the pieces after her life fell apart. She didn’t know if she hated him or loved him so much it hurt just thinking about him. When anyone mentioned Adrien or his alter ego she would snarl a warning to stop.

Marinette downed another drink before kicking her shoes off and letting the music control her body. It was easy to get lost in the music with the alcohol coursing through her system. She was vaguely aware of Chloe telling her she’d already drunk too much, but she chose to ignore her.

She hated what she was doing to her mum and friends, but it was easier to be numb than to feel it all. Most days she woke up feeling like she was drowning. Night after night the nightmares plagued her dreams. If she was lucky enough sometimes the alcohol managed to dull the pain and help her sleep.

Her other escape was Luka. She loved him but refused to admit it. Even with his love it wasn’t enough to mask her feelings towards the green-eyed traitor. How could she fully be Luka’s when her body and soul ached for someone else?

Hands grabbed her waist and when she opened her eyes she was looking into the aqua eyes of Luka. He looked pissed at her and for a moment she wondered why.

“Marinette, what the hell. I’ve been messaging you all week. When you didn’t come home your mamma was worried. She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t either.” He said over the music.

“Lu, you worry too much. It’s only been three days.” She ran her finger down his nose and leaned back against his hands, letting him hold her weight. “I just needed to clear my head schools been kicking my ass and I had deadlines.” Marinette reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulling him down, her lips crashed against his and she felt him relax against her. She let his tongue into her mouth as his hands slid down her back and rested on her hips.

Luka pulled away first breathing heavy. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into Chloe’s spare room and ravish her body, but he knew what she was doing. Adrien was something she refused to talk about, and Chat Noir was no different. She would do anything to change the subject but now he was back it was only a matter of time before she had to face everything she’d tried so hard to forget.

Luka was terrified he was going to lose what little of her he had. He loved her so much it hurt sometimes but she was hurting too, and it killed him. He’d do anything to fix her. Even if it meant letting her go. It may kill him in the process but the time he had with her was better than nothing at all and if that’s all he could have then so be it.

“You can’t keep ignoring it Marinette. You won’t talk to me about it. About any of it. Maybe it’s him you need to heal that broken heart of yours.” He kissed her forehead, turned around and left. Trying his hardest to ignore her calling his name.

“Lu stop talking shit. Luka, get back here.” She yelled throwing her hands up and stomping her bare foot against the cold floor.

“Mari, what’s going on?” Alya gently took Marinette’s hand and turned her around to face her.

“It’s nothing. I just need another drink Al.” Marinette tried to walk back over to the bar in the corner where Chloe was sitting filing her nails and chatting to Tikki, Trixx and Pollen.

“Ah, I don’t think so missy. You’ve had enough tonight. I think you need some fresh air.” She tugged on her hand and led her to the balcony.

“Alya what are you doing, it’s cold out there.” Marinette complained as she tried to dig her heals in but Alya had the upper hand thanks to her sober state.

“Cold air will do you good girl. Now stop complaining.” Once outside Alya took a step back inside the door. “I’m sorry but you need to deal with your shit.” She said as she closed and locked the door.

“Alya, what the hell! You’re crazy, let me in?” Marinette yelled as she banged on the door.

“Marinette?”

Marinette stood still as the smooth voice washed over her, leaving her skin tingling like she’d just been zapped. She rested her face against the cold glass and shut her eyes.

“I can’t do this.” She whispered.

“My Lady, please turn around.” He begged.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Her temper flared at her old nickname and she spun around; her eyes blazed into his. “You left… You left me. I needed you and you left.” She held her head high, but her voice wavered as she struggled to keep it together.

“I know. I… I failed you. I…” He stuttered as her blue eyes bore into his soul.

“Tikki.” Marinette called as she felt the panic wash over her like hot ice.

“Wait, Marinette please” He took a step towards her.

Marinette backed away as Tikki flew through the glass.

“Marinette is everything okay?” Tikki asked as she noticed Adrien. “Oh, Adrien.”

“Tikki…” Marinette’s voice was barely a whisper now as she shut her eyes tight. The panic was tightening around her heart and squeezing her lungs making it impossibly hard to breath.

“Please Marinette we need to talk…”

“Spots on.”

Pink light washed over Marinette and by the time it had dissipated Ladybug had replaced her.

………….

Adrien knew it was never going to be an easy reunion. The nerd in him couldn’t help but dream about her running into his arms and confessing her undying love for him before kissing him senseless. The realist in him knew that wouldn’t be the case, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the reality of her not even wanting to look at him let alone talk to him. The panic in her eyes had been real. Was she afraid of him? Was it pure hatred?

Now standing before him Ladybug looked every bit the assassin bug the media had dubbed her new look. She no longer adored the cute spotted mask instead the lower part of her face was covered by a black vail, with her fierce blue eyes blazing underneath the black hood that covered her braided hair.

The hood attached to a sheer black kimono, pulled tight by a black leather corset that laced up the back with red ribbon. The ribbon tales were long and seemed to fly behind her of their own accord. The asymmetrical hem of the kimono exposed the hip of her right leg and ended in a sharp point on her left knee. Without her black tights the kimono wouldn’t have covered much. Her right thigh had three deadly looking blades held in place with three red belt like bands. Delicate red stitching adorned the cuffs of the lose sleeves and flowed down the asymmetrical hem.

Up close Adrien realised that the stitching was symbols of an ancient text. The text seemed to glow, illuminating her silhouette against the dark night sky of Paris. He took a step towards her with his hands up in surrender but before he could get any closer, she leapt over the edge and swung into the darkness. The glow of the stitching leaving a red trail in her wake.

Adrien stood frozen watching her disappear into the night.

“Snap out of it kid. Go after her.” Plagg flew in front of his face and waved his little paws around as he floated upside down.

“You’re right, Plagg claws out.”

A flash of green washed over Adrien as he jumped off the balcony. He felt the rush of the miraculous magic flow through his veins for the first time in years. He’d missed his alter ego and his body reacted as if catapulting through the air was second nature to him. He landed hard on a roof top and ran on all fours, letting his limbs stretch as he leapt to the next building.

He was catching up to the red glow and a surge of adrenaline shot through his system driving him forwards. Before long he could make out her form. She was heading to the Eiffel tower. It surprised him that she’d head there. The two had spent many nights together watching Paris from above.

He reached the tower and landed on their old perch. He was sure this is where he last saw her but there was no sight of her. Chat shook his head and was about to head to the top for a better look when something slammed into his back. The weight pinned him to the ground, he instinctively knew who it was. All his senses were tingling, and it got worse as he felt her hot breath in his ear.

“You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Chat’s heart was racing. He wanted to see her. To feel her touch. To hear her voice even if it was only to yell at him. Hot tears fell from his closed eyes and he forced himself to breath.

“I’d rather die than lose you again.” He hadn’t anticipated saying it with such force and neither had Ladybug.

Chat felt her weight shift slightly and before he knew what he was doing he had her pined on her back. He held her hands above her head with one hand and cradled her head with the other. Her blue eyes reflected the stairs above and his heart clenched when he noticed tears wetting her long lashes. Her bottom lip trembled as she started to lose control of her emotions.

“I’m sorry princess. I’m sorry for everything. For taking your pappa away. For leaving you to deal with it. For not saying goodbye. For not telling you how much I love you. Every part of you. Not just Ladybug but Marinette.” He choked out as tears streamed down his face and landed on hers.

“I don’t blame you if you can’t forgive me, god knows I haven’t. I just want a chance to show you how much you mean to me. We could have a new beginning, forget about Hawkmoth and move away. We could go anywhere you want. I know you’re tired so let somebody else take over.” Chat begged as he let go of her hands to wipe his tear-stained face.

Ladybug hadn’t taken her eyes off his. He meant every word he’d said but he hadn’t meant to say it all like that and definitely not all at once.

In one swift movement she unclipped her vail and grabbed his face. Before he could react, her lips crashed into his with such force it hurt. Chat recovered quickly and he melted into the kiss. It was everything he’s dreamed of and more. Her lips sent shockwaves through his system and a low rumble escaped the back of his throat. She bit his lip hard and he moaned allowing her tongue into his mouth. He hadn’t experienced passion like this before. His whole body tingled where hers touched his and he felt as if he might self-combust at any moment.

At some point they had moved and now Ladybug was on top of Chat. She abruptly ended the kiss and straight away Chat missed her lips against his. She pushed the hair out of his eyes and sighed.

“We can’t have a new beginning Chat. The only thing I can focus on is the ending. His ending. I’m going to make him suffer for everything he stole from me. I won’t take you down that road with me. You still have a chance.” And with that she took off into the night sky leaving Chat behind.

Chat tried to get up, but he tripped on his tail that had conveniently tangled around his legs and he fell to his knees. By the time he’d untangled himself she was gone. He looked over the city, their city, and he made a silent promise to himself. He was going to save her from herself. He would make up for everything he’d done even if it took the rest of his life, they would get their new beginning.

Part 2

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #ml fanfic #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #aged up #post reveal #sad past #angst #emotional rollercoaster

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undertaker1827 · 4 years

Note

Can I request an imagine for Undertaker? Reader is his apprentice. (Mortuary not reaper apprentice) and her school is offering her a different funeral home for her career which upsets Undertaker. But reader tells him that she already turned down the offer because she likes London and. "Why would I leave the only man I've ever loved?""

Oh wow I loved writing this one!! Be warned; I went absolutely overboard, it’s probably far more dramatic than you were looking for and we’ve hit the 2000 word mark!! Whoo hoo! Also, there’s angst in the middle, but much fluff either side. Enjoy!

It was bright and early in the morning when you arrived at your place of work - well, place of apprenticeship at least. It was not the first choice most people went for, you supposed, when choosing a career, but you had always had your sights set on entering the funeral business. You found there to be something peaceful and somehow satisfying in organising a person’s final celebration. You also had something of a weird sense of humour, which was no doubt the main reason for getting on so well with a certain funeral director. It must have been coincidence that your apprenticeship led you to one particular, peculiar little parlour, or perhaps an unusually kind turn of fate.

You entered the shop without once trying to check for your keys, knowing the door was almost always open. A grin made its way onto your face in preparation for greeting the shop’s owner, your technically-boss whom you had grown incredibly fond over across the span of the past few months. You glanced around the front room, eyes much happier in the darkness compared to the bright sunlight failing to beam through the dusty window on the door. When a characteristic creaking of hinges scratched past your ears, you turned to the coffin propped up against the wall on your immediate left, only to be greeted by a flying bear hug. Something you had learned about the mortician fairly early on in this apprenticeship was his entire lack of comprehensibility with regards to personal space. It was simply not something he payed any mind to. Luckily for you, it was never something you were overly concerned about either.

The breath left your lungs in a graceless huff as you were crushed against Undertaker, who was utterly thrilled at your scheduled appearance. You could practically feel the excitement radiating off him. Laughing, you wrapped your arms around him in return, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Good mornin’, m’lady,” he started in a singsong tone, “and what is it I can help you with today?” You chuckled even more at his hilarious antics. It had been like this for a while now, ever since Undertaker had acclimatised to your presence and come to realise how much you both had in common. You were not much different, having been delighted upon realising your similarities and confusion towards people who considered themselves ‘normal’. Anyone out of the ordinary was always a far more interesting character. You treasured the moments you got to spend with the mortician, so much so that you had approached him around a month ago to ask if you could start coming in on weekends as well, even though the apprenticeship only required weekdays. To say he was ecstatic after that request would be the understatement of the century.

“You know, some tea and a biscuit or two really wouldn’t go amiss,” you confessed in a stage whisper, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as though checking there was no one else to hear your request.

“My dear, I couldn’t agree more. I just finished a fresh batch.” With that, he whisked you away through the door leading to the kitchen. That was something else you loved about being with Undertaker - he very rarely called you by your actual name. It was always ‘my dear’, or ‘my lady’ when he was messing about. He had begun to adopt ‘love’ more recently too. Even thinking about it brought a warmth to your chest, made your heart swell. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were the only one he called by such names. You already spent most of your time at the funeral parlour; the only visitors he seemed to get outside of blurry-eyed customers was a young earl and his butler, although you got the impression that he was not overly fond of you being around at the same time as they were. It occurred to you, not for the first time, that craving physical contact as he did was probably due to loneliness, at least in part. Not that he would ever admit feeling something so sad to you.

Undertaker had heard about it before even you did. Your school wanted to move you on to a different funeral home. You would get more experience, travel to different places, meet new people. Ultimately, it would make it easier for you when you started working full time at a funeral home, or eventually when you set up your own. He understood all of that perfectly.

It made no difference.

He thought about you working where they had suggested, a quaint place up in Yorkshire - all pink flowers and seaside communities. Nothing at all like the eccentric, dark place he ran. No mystery, no interesting past - not that he could think of, at least. And most importantly, nowhere near London. Of course, London came with its own set of problems; you were far more likely to get attacked here, mugged or the like, than in the North. But here, he was present to make sure that nothing happened to you. He was more than capable of doing so when you lived in the same city and you spent most of your time with him anyway. This was something that would not be possible if you left. And, frankly, why would you stay? What reason would have? Him? Please. As if you were some fairy tale princess choosing to stay with your prince over your own future. It just wouldn’t happen.

As such, he consigned himself to the fact. He went and baked a collection of biscuits to see you off with - after all, they had said you would have to leave immediately should you so choose, lest someone else take the spot reserved for you only within a time limit. Schedules and reports and formalities that Undertaker would never subject himself to again. You probably liked organisation.

He had not even tried to sleep after some self-righteous receptionist had rudely delivered the news that you would be leaving, with absolute certainty, even though it was not her choice to make. “I have been to your parlour before, to check it was a suitable place for a young apprentice. The rafters were still relatively stable, I suppose, but why on Earth she picked a place like yours to begin with…” Even over the phone, he could hear her frail, blossom adorned façade shudder in disgust. “I am sure I would never know.” He was now doubting himself, certain that whatever he thought you felt towards him, no matter how platonic, was just a figment of his isolated mind. Why would you pick him? Why would you? Why would you.

Therefore, he had obstinately decided to spend the night baking, so at the very least he would have a parting gift for you. You were supposed to have arrived five minutes ago.

“Half an hour! That wretched woman has made me half an hour late! Who does she think she is, trying to order me about over something that couldn’t be less to do with her!” She was not so much as in the department who organised the category into which your apprenticeship fell, she was just a general coordinator of venues!

Livid with your treatment, flustered by your late arrival and absolutely wound to the hilt, you made the fifteen minute walk to Undertaker’s in five. The door flew open as you burst through, loudly proclaiming your apologies through the haze of red that women had left on your vision, only to stop abruptly. The door creaked on its hinges, slamming shut with a sense of dreadful finality you didn’t think it was capable of.

“Undertaker?” Your voice came out quiet, confused, as you took in what was going on. He sitting. Sitting down properly, in the ordinary wooden chair behind his heavy oakwood desk. His elbows rested on the tabletop, fingers laced and chin hovering just above them. His hat was discarded on the floor beside him, a single, covered basket atop the desk. He was not smiling.

Now downright concerned, you frowned, dropping your coat unceremoniously across a coffin and quickly striding across the room, coming to a halt in front of the desk and resting your weight on your palms, on the opposite side to him. Your tone had taken on a stern quality now, having been given the distinct impression you would have to push him to gain any information at all.

“Undertaker, what’s wrong?” It couldn’t really have been called a question.

The mortician gestured a vague hand in the direction of the basket.

“They’re for you.” No greeting, no name, no amusement. It was like he had gone into clinical detachment for the sake of dealing with an inconsolable customer for the sake of not starting to cry along with them. Of course you knew what the basket was made up of, you would recognise the smell of those biscuits anywhere. You ignored them. Leaning fully across his desk, you gently grabbed Undertaker’s wrists, refusing to just leave it.

“What’s. Wrong?” He said nothing for a long while, then stood so abruptly that your hands were pulled from his wrists and you fell forwards slightly onto your forearms. When you looked up, the mortician had already shot away from where you were standing, making a fuss about the rows of suspect jars lining his shelves and blabbering on about understanding your choice, and wishing you luck … for the future?

With a sudden gasp of clarity, everything made sense. He thought you had taken up the offer. If he had spoken to the same woman as you had, she probably told him you were leaving. Hell, she had told you the same thing. Now, not only had she angered you, she had upset the most upbeat-in-his-own-way man you had ever met? Oh, no. You were not having that. Whipping around, you stormed to the other side of the room in seconds, grabbing the mortician by his shoulders and forcefully turning him to face you. You had pressed yourself against him in the next breath, one hand between his defined shoulder blades and the other against the curve of his lower back, pulling him ever closer to you. In shock, you supposed, he held his arms aloft above your head, as if he didn’t know what to do. As if you hadn’t done this thousands of times before. Your eyes squeezed shut as every muscle in your body tensed, refusing to let him go.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured with a conviction he had never heard from you before. “Do you hear me? I’m staying. Whether you like it or not.” A short, sharp intake of breath on his part was your only reply. “I like it here. I like London. I like your shop. And most importantly…” You leaned back at this point, only far enough to be able to see his face. You swallowed, suddenly unsure of how he would react to this. It was too late now, you reasoned, you were already committed. The hand you had pressed between his shoulder blades quickly moved to his face, pushing back through his bangs and finally revealing his eyes. It was your turn to breath in sharply; the intensity of his burning chartreuse gaze immediately spearing straight through you was not something you had been expecting. Somehow though, you kept your train of thought.

“Why would I leave the only man I’ve ever loved?”

No sooner were the words out than he had moved. One arm glided around your waist, the other bracing your shoulders and fingertips gently touching over the soft hair at the base of your skull as his pale, soft lips carefully met yours. You had never seen him be so gentle, it hadn’t even occurred to you that he could be. Your chin tilted up immediately to meet his kiss, the hand entwined with his bangs returning to his back. He pulled away slowly, leaving you a panting, flustered mess in his arms. You never once broke eye contact. You could barely make out his words for how focused you were on his voice. Deep, soft, nothing like the jarring lilt he usually spoke with.

“I love you too.”

#black butler #undertaker #adrian crevan #black butler fluff #black butler x reader #undertaker x reader #undertaker x reader fluff #adrian crevan x reader

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