#i'm still looking for my purple Hawke | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mismatched-sockss · 8 months ago

Text

Kiss it better

» Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!BAU!Reader » Wordcount: 2,4k » Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, non-sexual nudeness and touching (except for maybe a short allusion but emily turns reader down), reader has female anatomy (breasts are mentioned), mentions of unsub beating up reader and the resulting injuries, reader takes unspecified pain medication, pet names (honey, my love, baby) » A/N: no detailed body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

You tried to muffle the pained groan when you leaned into the shower to turn the water on, so Emily wouldn't hear. You didn't want her to worry her again. Still, not even five seconds later she slithered into the bathroom, almost slipping on the floor with her socked feet as she ran to the door.

"What are you doing?", she asked warily, her brows furrowed as she watched you like a hawk.

"Taking a shower?" You slowly turned to her and simultaneously started to unbutton your shirt. Your knuckles ached slightly from the movement, but the pain was not bad enough that you would have to stop.

"Yes, I can see that. Why are you doing it alone?"

"Because I'm a grown woman and can tak- ow!" Pain shot through your whole upper body when you shrugged the shirt off and moved your arm wrong. You tried to breathe through the pain and shot Emily a thankful smile when she helped you to fully remove your shirt.

She gasped when she saw the full extent of your injuries when she turned back to you after she threw your shirt into the laundry basket. She had been busy dealing with the Unsub and the local police earlier when the EMTs checked you, so she only knew what happend from what you told the team. This was the first time she saw the result of what the man had done to you.

Hotch had sent you to interview a potential witness, but when you knocked on the door the guy freaked when he saw your credentials. You fought with him but he got a couple of good kicks in once he had you on the floor.

Luckily you only had a couple of small wounds were the skin on your knuckles had split from the punches you were able to land, a cracked rib or two and a slight concussion. The big bruise that covered your right side looked really bad; it reached over half your stomach and your ribs up to your shoulder blade, shining in an angry mixture of different shades of red and purple.

As long as you moved with caution the pain was manageable so far and the bruises looked a lot worse than your injuries actually were. You could only imagine how bad it must look to Emily right now.

"Oh honey", she breathed out as she stepped closer. She reached out for you, her fingertips just barely touching the skin of your shoulder as she traced them along the bruise. Even though the bathroom had gotten warmer as it slowly filled with the steam from the hot water, her touch send a shiver down your spine and goosebumps started rising on your skin. "I'm so sorry. I should have gone with you."

You smiled at her as you took her hand between yours. "It's not your fault, okay?" You squeezed her hand and started to draw soothing circles on her skin with your thumb. "We had no way of knowing that Keller was the Unsub, when I left to interview him. And I was the one who insisted I would be fine on my own. Also, you already were halfway to the M.E.s office by then, so you wouldn't have been there either way."

"Still. Reid could have gone to talk to the M.E. alone. Then I could have gone with you." Emily raised her other hand to your cheek and softly stroked her thumb over your cheekbone. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

"I know, baby. But I'm okay." You crooked your head to the side as you leaned into her palm and rolled your eyes as you corrected yourself, because physically you were far from okay. "Okay, more like I'll live."

"You better...", she pouted.

You laughed and after she joined in, a sign that the tension was slowly leaving her, you leaned in to close the space between you both and kissed her.

Emily smiled when you parted and nodded her head to the running shower. "Let's get you cleaned up." She helped you to take off the rest of your clothes and then took off her own so she could join you in the shower. She insisted to do all the work and ordered you to "just stand there and look pretty."

The both of your stepped inside the shower stall and a deep sigh left your lips when the warm water hit your skin, immediately relaxing your tense muscles. The water pressure was light enough that it didn't hurt when it landed on your skin.

Emily reached behind you to grab one of the bottles and signaled you to turn around and face away from her, before she flipped the lid and squeezed some of the flowery smelling stuff into her hand. You closed your eyes when she started to shampoo your hair, her fingers gently massaging your head. She giggled when you hummed. “Feels good?”, she asked. You just hummed again and let your head fall back. When she was done with the shampoo, she unhooked the shower head and rinsed your hair out, then she worked some of the conditioner in as well. Every step - shampoo, rinse, conditioner, rinse - she softly massaged your scalp.

She proceeded to lather her hands up with shower gel. While she was doing so she planted a small kiss onto your right shoulder, right above the edge of your bruise. Emily's hands glided over your skin, washing your arms and your back, and she made sure to move over your injuries as softly as she could so she wouldn't hurt you.

By the time she made you turn back around, her touch had done much more to you than just washing your body. With a new portion of shower gel she started on your collar bones and worked her way down, over your breasts and stomach.

Your breathing quickened and you put your left hand on her waist to pull her closer. You tried to kiss her, but Emily turned her face away and chuckled. “Nope.”

“Mean”, you said and pouted. She kissed your nose before she bend down to wash your legs.

"I'm not being mean, but you are hurt. You'll have to wait until you're better, my love." She looked up at you and the sight alone - Emily on her knees in front of you and the way she was looking into your eyes, paired with her hands on your thighs - almost drove you insane. Like you said. Mean.

You groaned and rolled your eyes playfully. "Why do you have to be so responsible?"

"Because I love you and because I'm your boss."

"Just because you've been in the BAU longer than me, doesn't make you my boss”, you laughed.

Emily shrugged, a wide smile on her lips. "Tomato, tomahto. It's pretty much the same thing."

After the both of you were done in the bathroom - freshly showered, bodies lotioned and dressed in comfortable clothes - Emily gave you some pain killers and sat you down on the couch so she could apply new bandages on your hand.

“It's really not that bad”, you said. She held your right hand in both of hers, examining your knuckles - split skin accompanied with light red bruises that were already turning purple.

She shook her head. “It's bad enough. Just let me do this, please?” Emily didn't wait for your answer, didn't even look up at you, before she dabbed some disinfectant on your knuckles; then she wrapped the new bandage around your hand.

“Okay”, you breathed out, giving in. You could tell she still blamed herself that you got hurt, heard it in the way her voice had cracked just now. If dressing your wounds and tending to your every needs would help that she felt better about it, you'd let her.

You didn't blame her. Or even Hotch. The only person at fault was Keller. But you knew, that if the roles were reversed and Emily would have gotten injured in the field while you weren't around, you would blame yourself as well. Probably even if you would have been around.

So you let her do her thing. You let her fix you something to eat, let her wrap you up in a cozy blanket and let her brush your hair. You would lie if you would say, that you didn't like it.

It was still early enough in the evening that you had time to cuddle up on the couch with each other and watch TV while sharing a tub of ice cream. Emily had you sitting between her legs, your back to her chest, so she could hold you without you having to lie on your side. One of her hands had found its way back into your hair, her fingers playing with your hair and untangling the knots that were back in your hair after she had brushed it earlier.

You had stopped paying attention to the TV a long time ago, fully focusing and enjoying her touch. From time to time you felt her planting a quick kiss here and there - the side of your head, your neck, your shoulder.

Slowly but surely it lulled you to sleep, you eyelids getting heavier by the minute. You adjusted your position, turning your head to the side to lean your forehead against her neck. Just when you were about to drift off, your hand slit off Emily's thigh and it collided with the empty ice cream container next to you. You jumped, not because it hurt your hand but because it had startled you in your half conscious state. Immediately after you doubled over in pain; which you regretted the second you did it as it only made it worse.

“Woah, hey, hey.” Emily grabbed your shoulders to hold you steady.

Tears shot into your eyes and you whimpered. It felt like your whole right side was on fire. Now with the sudden movement and since you had rested for a while, your more than sore muscles ached even more than they had before.

A sob fought its way out of your throat and before you knew it, you were full on crying. The crying didn't make it better: your head started to pound again, your side got worse as your body shook with every sob and when you started to hyperventilate your ribs violently protested against having to hold your lungs in.

Emily held you against her, making sure to not hurt you any further of course, and brushed the hair from your forehead. She stroked your hair as she was trying to calm you and she whispered “Shhh, it's okay... It's okay. Just breath.” into your ear over and over again. It hurt her, that she couldn't do anything to help you, to ease your pain. To take the pain away.

It took a while for you to calm down, until your breath evened out and your sobs stopped, only soft whimpers leaving your lips now. Emily asked you if she could get you anything and when you asked for painkillers, she sighed and kissed the side of your head. “It's too early to take another dose. I'm sorry, baby. We-”

“I don't care”, you cried. “Please...”

For a short moment she fought with herself. She wanted to help you, but you only had taken the last pill about two hours ago; the prescription said to wait at least four hours between doses. But with one look into your eyes, she dismissed all caution and nodded. If it only had been 30 minutes, it would have been a different kind of story. And not keeping to the advised time frame one time, shouldn't hurt.

“Okay”, Emily breathed out and carefully got up to get the medication and a glass of water. When she came back, she took a seat next to you and placed the pill in your hand. You took it and after drinking some of the water you gave her the glass back. “Thank you.”

“Of course”, she said and placed the glass down. “Why don't we get you into bed, huh?”

You just nodded. All you wanted to do right now was sleep. You were so tired. From the day, from the crying, from the pain.

“Do you want to go now, or do you want to wait a moment for the medication to work?”, she asked and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. God, you hoped the pain killers would work their magic quickly.

“Now please”, you said in a low voice.

Emily took your hand and helped you stand up, walking you slowly over to your shared bedroom. You stopped at your side of the bed, waited for her to pull back the blanket and then carefully laid down with her help.

“I'll be right back”, she told you, once you were all set. While she was gone, you closed your eyes and hoped, that your pain would stop soon. It had dulled a bit by now and lying down had helped your body relax. Right now, your headache was hurting the most in your body. Luckily it had stopped pounding in the rhythm of your heartbeat, but there was still a constant, sharp pain that felt like your head was about to split open.

You laid your wrist over your eyes - the bandage felt both soft and rough on your skin – and you kept it there, not moving it even when a soft clink on your nightstand indicated Emily's return; presumably with a fresh glass of water. You could hear her walking around the room and shutting off the big room light before she climbed into bed.

She softly touched your wrist and moved it away from your face so she could hold your hand in both of hers in between your bodies. “Are you feeling better yet?”

You turned your head to look at her, watching her pull your hand closer to her face and planting the softest kisses on your bandaged knuckles, one by one. You smiled at her. “A bit, meds are slowly kicking in, I think.”

“Good”, Emily said as she smiled back at you from behind your hand. “I'm glad. Try to get some sleep.” She sat up slightly and supported her weight on her elbow so she could lean down. First, she kissed your lips, then she planted a kiss on your cheek and one on your eyebrow.

“Good night.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosts can write #❤️ e.p.#--- mismatched🧦

507 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 9 months ago

Text

I was going to do this at some point but others also wanted it... so! CatNap time! This is my version like with DogDay, so maybe read that one first to understand my AU? Pure brainrot, barely proofread, there may be mistakes.

🌙Yandere! CatNap Concept🌙

🐱(My Version)🐱

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Violence, Overprotective behavior, Drugging/Gassing, CatNap watches you sleep, Manipulation, Slight sadism, Blood, Implied murder, Slight gore, Forced companionship.

I'm just going to say this, the first thing I read about CatNap is he likes watching his friends sleep.

So that's how this starts.

As usual, CatNap has a cartoon/plush form and a monster form in my AU.

I talk a bit more about this in the DogDay concept.

CatNap, in his more innocent plush form, is docile, gentle, bashful, and highly impressionable according to the wiki.

CatNap can have an eerie presence but he is usually very calming.

He prioritizes proper rest, especially towards you.

When left all alone in Playcare, he becomes a hunting beast who worships The Prototype.

He's not Theo in this version, he's his own thing.

He's sadistic and enjoys the hunt in his more beastly form.

However... he isn't heartless... as in this concept he cares for you a lot.

Let's use this concept just to discuss his overall behavior like I did in the last one.

CatNap's plush/cartoon form still manages to get up to just about the waist of an adult on two legs.

Although the cat also likes to roam on four legs.

CatNap has a lavender smell in his fur, a scent known to calm and put others to sleep.

Although... that isn't exactly what he uses to put you to sleep.

Like in canon, CatNap has the ability to release Poppy Gas from his lungs.

Said gas creates hallucinations and even puts the target asleep.

CatNap likes it when his best friend sleeps....

So, the purple cat often likes to crawl on your lap, release some of the gas, and puts you to sleep as he nuzzles into you with a purr.

Yes, I feel I want to make CatNap purr in my version.

CatNap likes to wrap his long tail around you and follows you around loyally.

He wants to make you happy, healthy, and full of energy!

The only way to do that is a good night's sleep, right?

So let him help you.

CatNap definitely also uses his lavender scent to calm you, too.

He just wants his friend to hold him and sleep...

He'll watch over you like a good friend should.

Then there's the monster form.

He's still very dedicated to you, even when he roams the area like a stalking cat.

CatNap watches over you like a hawk, a caretaker at heart.

In his larger form he looks more unnerving, crawling on all fours like huge hunting cat.

He carefully stalks prey (and you) in the shadows, disorienting them with Poppy Gas before striking.

Unlike DogDay he doesn't bother hiding his predatory nature.

He doesn't care if blood or bits of flesh stain his purple fur when he eats.

His lavender scent still lingers despite the dirty blood smell when he's near you.

The large cat often tries to curl around you in his larger form, purring softly as he encourages you to sleep.

If you try to leave his long tail prevents it... he'll even give you Poppy Gas if you still struggle.

If you think about it... CatNap would be very similar to Moon from FNAF... except CatNap is more... religious?

Speaking of that, CatNap may view you as a gift from The Prototype.

His god has rewarded him for his loyalty!

He'll cherish you as his Best Friend....

CatNap would not hurt you as he views you as his gift and Best Friend.

He often swaps between his smaller cartoon/plush form and his monster form.

If he isn't on a hunt and doesn't want to scare you... he'll swap to his more docile form and encourage you to hold him.

Admittedly... his purr and lavender scent is enough to make you want to sleep anyways.

CatNap is mostly sadistic towards others, like DogDay and the other Critters if they were still alive somehow.

CatNap is possessive of his newfound pal.

He growls and hisses when you try to leave or if you mention any other Toy Mascot.

Even if you did escape, CatNap is hot on your tail, stalking you from the shadows.

Next thing you know the room you're in fills with red mist... you start to hallucinate... the last thing you see before you collapse is the monstrous form of a predatory cat.

Then you wake up back where you once were... with a purple plush cat wrapped in your arms purring away.

It looks like you aren't leaving the claws of CatNap after all....

#yandere poppy playtime #yandere smiling critters #yandere catnap

519 notes · View notes

dazed-and-confused23 · 5 months ago

Text

Nesting Habits

Hawks knows that you might get upset with your things going missing, but he just can't help himself.

Hawks x Reader

Warnings. Bird behavior. Might come off a little creepy, but he's got nothing but good intentions. Love confessions.

The moment you step away from your desk at the end of the day, Hawks floats over and snatches the cardigan you'd left behind and holds it up to his face. The material is soft, and with no one left in the office, the hero is shameless in the way he buries his face in it. The orange cardigan smells like you, all sweet honey and spicy peppermint. Keigo can't get enough of it.

You'd been his assistant for a long time, a couple of years now, and Keigo had fallen head over heels for you in the first couple of weeks of knowing you. But the two of you had hit it off so well that Keigo hadn't wanted to ruin the wonderful friendship he'd built with you. So here he was, being a petty thief and stealing your clothes to be used for his nest back home.

This first time, it'd happened, was a complete accident. Keigo had invited you over for drinks at his apartment after work, and you'd forgotten your sweater that night. Hawks told himself that he'd give you it back the next week when Monday rolled around, but somehow, the pale purple knit had ended up in his nest, and it just looked so perfect there that he couldn't bring himself to give it back.

It was downhill after that, and over the next few months, Hawks has stolen three cardigans, four pull overs, two shirts, and even a scarf. You'd only made a fuss once after he'd taken the softest UA pullover, and Hawks had reluctantly returned it after noticing how upset you'd gotten over it.

But now he's got this nice orange one to add to his nest, and he couldn't be happier. Hawks jumps up, fully intending to fly straight home, when the life is scared out of him. Blood drains from his face, and his wings puff out before snapping against his back. His golden eyes go wide, and the smile he paints on is full of guilty embarrassment.

"Hi, _."

You flick your eyes from his and down to the cardigan he clutches like life line. The dots connect in an instant, and you point an accusing finger at him.

"You're the thief," you chirp, and Hawks just laughs nervously, shoulders hunching up around his ears.

"I am," Keigo admits and makes no move to give back your cardigan. You don't seem upset, more exasperated, and satisfied that you know who'd been stealing your things.

You drop your hand and cross your arms, expression turning curious. Hawks clutches your sweater, nose full of your unique smell for comfort even when it's you that's staring him down. Hawks feels like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Why?"

He jumps at your question, and his winds perk up. Maybe...

"It'd be easier to show you. Can I?" He asks. Keigo shouldn't be so surprised when you agree, but it still fills him with nervous excitement at the thought of showing you his nest. You follow the hero to his office and then out to the balcony where Hawks hands over the cardigan after you assure him you'd give it back once they got to his apartment.

The flight over is quick, but Keigo relishes every second he had you clutched tight. He loves the feeling of you pressed so close and loves how much you trust him to keep you safe from falling. Keigo loves you, and hopefully, after today, you'd love him too.

You shuck off the orange cardigan and hand it over as promised when they two of you land on his roof. Hawks leads you down but stops before he opens the door of his bedroom. His cheeks are pink, and he's got to take a deep breath to give himself some courage. This was worse than facing a villain!

"I've told you how my quirk works, the bird instincts and all that," He continues when you give him an encouraging nod, "Well- another thing I do is nest? And your clothes are kind of a part of that. They - you're scent - comforts me. I know it's weird, and I'm sorry that I stole your things, but I just couldn't help myself!"

Before he could lose his nerve, Hawks shoved open his bedroom door and let you investigate for yourself. You walk inside, and Keigo follows you close behind, golden eyes wide as he watches your face. His bed is a mess of thick blankets and clothes. You can see all of your missing clothes, each one carefully placed and tucked in the perfect spot.

"I'll give your things back, _. I'm so sorry. I'll even transfer you to a different hero agency if you want. It's hard telling my bird brain no sometimes, and I didn't think you'd mind too much since I didn't do it all that often, but then there was the UA pullover incident, and you were so upset, and I hate seeing you that way. But I still couldn't stop cause you smelled so good, and you're so freaking perfect, and I just. I love you, alright?"

Keigo stares at you, face flushed and chest heaving from all his pent-up emotions, and wait. You're getting really close, and wow, your eyes are so pretty, and you smell so good.

"Are you going to kiss me or not, Pretty Bird?" You say, and damn. That's definitely something that Hawks can do.

After he kisses the life after you, and after you've donated two other scarves to his cause, you pull Keigo in for a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Love you too, Keigo."

#my hero acedamia #my hero x reader #mha hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami #bird behavior #keigo x reader

336 notes · View notes

ratatouillewastakendammit · 2 years ago

Note

i can't stop thinking about Hawks getting pissed during an interview where another pro hero makes a remark about how Hawks pretty little sidekick could do so much better at their agency,,, and he has to sit there and play nice but once it's over hes allllllllllll over her,,,,, yea <3

I was at a con when I got this request and it got me giggling out loud and shit.

This took so long to write because I had writer's block, but I hope you like it <3

Warnings: the tiniest bit of spice, basically just enhanced making out, I tried to make this one a bit more fluffy, language, a random oc because I couldn't really think of any other pro-heroes within the age range who were assholes

Word Count: 2.5k

"And now for our next set of guests, I would firstly like to introduce the primary reason that half of our female viewers tuned in tonight."

The live audience erupted into applause as the pro made his way onto the stage, waving a hand before running it through perfectly-styled golden bangs.

The host, a middle-aged man with strikingly purple hair met him halfway. "Hawks, how are you doing tonight?"

"I'm doing great." He smiled, perfectly aware of how easily that grin could melt hearts. "Happy to be here."

"We're happy to have you!" The host reflected his expression, flashing a set of teeth that were so flawlessly white it was almost unnerving. "And next up, we have another hero slowly climbing up the ranks, the Hound Hero, K-Nine!"

Another man hopped on to the stage, earning another round of cheers from the crowd in front of him.

Umber hair had been wrapped into an unkempt bun, matching the deep shade of his eyes. He could be considered pretty attractive, Hawks supposed, if you could look past the ears poking past the up-do.

Although he didn't know the hero's legal name, nor did he care enough to look it up beforehand, he was ninety perfect positive that it started with the letter 'K.'

Cheesy, but he wouldn't judge. He'd been known to appreciate a good pun.

What he didn't appreciate was that fact that his PR rep had dragged him to another interview on his supposed day off.

Still, he was better than most at keeping up appearances, flashing that heart-stopping grin and throwing in a clever comment when the time called for it.

The host asked the usual questions, the similarities to K-Nine and himself, even though he was sure that those ended at their shared animal-based quirks and the fact that they were both in their mid twenties. Regardless, anyone with eyes would see that the two could barely be considered to be on the same level, something that brought an air of dullness to the interview.

As usual, the winged pro found it difficult to pay attention, leg bouncing in anticipation of how long he would be stuck here. That was one of the less-apparent downsides of being someone who prominently valued speed; sitting through such monotonous situations was quite the feat.

Instead, he droned out the voices as the men across from him started to discuss the importance of sidekicks.

And that's when he heard your name.

He perked up, immediately recognizing that K-Nine was staring in his direction, wolfish grin only accentuated by the sharpened canines poking out from under his lips. "I gotta say, I'm jealous."

Hawks cocked an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

Nodding, the brunet allowed the surface-level authenticity to settle for a moment. "Someone as cute as that? I don't know how anyone there manages to get work done."

It was almost unnoticeable, practically unseen over the televised pixels many were watching through. Regardless, the slight tense of his wings in pure irritation was undeniable.

So, that's what this was about.

Forcing a smile, he replied. "Considering our criminal apprehension rates, I think you'd be surprised."

K-Nine leaned back into his chair, haughty expression flickering between the good-hearted playfulness he was supposed to be exuding. "All I'm saying is a pretty little thing like that could do a lot better at my agency."

Golden eyes narrowed slightly as the connotation, fingers digging into the plush sofa as he used every bit of mental strength to will the spite from his tone. "As far as I know, all of my sidekicks are perfect content to work with me. Just like I'm sure yours are happy to work with you. Not sure how they handle all the fleas, though."

The cluster of people in front of him busted into laughter, and he joined in, but the sound seemed to be laced with a soft malice if you managed to listen hard enough.

Playing nice for the public was one of his strong suits, and considering his resilience in a long-term business relationship with Endeavor, he could rightfully say that he was able to handle difficult personalities.

All that tolerance seemed to fly out the window when it came to you.

And the hero across from him either had the social recognition skills of a goldfish, or was too dumb to care.

Regardless, K-Nine turned to the audience. "Come on, I've got a chance, right?"

Some man in the crowd let out a whistle and Hawks felt a compelling urge to hurl a shoe at his nose.

"Speaking of romance," the host verbally silenced the room, making Hawks more grateful than he thought momentarily possible, "I've got to ask, anyone special worthy of a mention?"

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief, the inquiry signaling the closure of the interview, which had seemingly gone on for a few decades at the very least.

It was always like this, the same question would be asked, and then he'd give the same bullshit-answer about the love from his fans being more than enough.

Fuck, how great would it be if he threw your name into the mix.

That'd shut that arrogant mutt up real quick, that's for sure.

But he'd keep his mouth shut, if not for his own benefit, but for yours.

With your take-down rate, it was blatantly how talented you were as a hero and, even if it wouldn't be many, Hawks would be damned if anyone questioned your acceptance into his agency.

In all honesty, he had initially recognized your power and intelligence, traits that had gotten you the job in the first place.

It was in those first few months that he had begun to realize how much he liked you, how much he liked to watch you kick ass, or how pretty you were, even if it was preposterously early in the morning.

So he'd stay quiet, if only to keep a few impudent naysayers off your back.

Not to mention that you might wring his neck.

Instead, Hawks sat simmering with annoyance on that plush sofa until the cameras were cut and he was forced to shake hands, first with the host, then with his fellow interviewee for the night, the latter receiving the tiniest bit more squeeze.

The night was cold but he opted to fly back to his agency, allowing the chill to tangle through his hair and hopefully disperse some of the vexation he desperately needed eradicated.

Besides, driving would mean lesser access to his office skylight, which also meant a long-ass elevator ride that he didn't have time for.

It was unlocked, thankfully, and he slipped into the room. He moved to shrug off his jacket, but paused, double taking at the light blooming under the thin fracture between his door and the marble flooring.

Obviously, he wasn't scared. Anybody would have to be pretty idiotic to attempt robbing a place belonging to the number 2 hero, and even more so to leave a light on.

Regardless, he stayed quiet, hoping to avoid an unnecessary interaction with a coworker he didn't have the patience for, and crept around the corner, expression softening a bit at what he saw.

It was you.

You were huddled over your desk, typing furiously at some important looking document. The computer screen illuminated your features, casting a dull glow over the otherwise unlit room.

Hawks recognized the soft tense of your eyebrows every few seconds, the way that you would pause to collect your thoughts before issuing that recognizable click-clack of your keyboard in focused chunks of writing.

He leaned back on the wall, arms crossed as he watched you work with a fond grin gracing his features.

After a while, you sighed, taking a moment to rotate the stiffness beginning to take place in your neck. Your gaze lazily flit over the room and you jumped. "Fuck!"

"Wow, that took you forever, sweetheart," he sighed, tilting his head in a teasing inquiry. "Do we need to work on awareness skills with the other sidekicks?"

"If you're gonna keep lurking behind corners like the boogeyman, then probably." You rolled your eyes, allowing his petname to settle in your mind. "And I thought I told you not to call me that during work."

"Why? Because you get all blushy and embarrassed?" He pushed off the wall, strolling over and nestling his head on your left shoulder.

You tensed a bit as he arms snaked over that of the chair, hands wrapping around your torso. "I don't."

The hero laughed, pulling at your cheeks like he could feel the heat creeping into him. "Work hours are over anyway. Which means that you shouldn’t be here."

"I need to finish this report." You nodded to the screen as if to prove your point, eyes narrowing as he continued to bury his face into your neck. "Are you okay?"

He paused, eyebrows furrowing as he backed away. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You get extra clingy when you're upset. Did something happen at the interview?"

So, you hadn't seen it.

"How dare you," the faux-hurt lacing his tone was a stark contrast to the satisfaction he felt knowing that you were close enough to recognize some of his physical tellers. Still, you didn't need to know that. "I do wonderful in interviews."

You smiled and he felt his heart melt. "Well, I'm just going to have to check and make sure."

Saving the work on your current tab, you moved your mouse to open up a new one before finding YouTube, which would most likely already have clips of the program uploaded. You were barely hovering over the search bar when the man all but threw himself on to your lap, arms latching themselves around your waist. "Don't. There were so many annoying people there."

"I thought you had an avian quirk," you groaned, arms straining as you tried to detach his. "If you had boa constrictor powers then I would've liked to know."

He glanced up, eyes wide and oddly reminiscent of a child waking up his parents in the middle of the night. "I'll let you stay and work overtime if you let me hang out here for a while. It's been a very long day."

"Oh, I'm sure it has." You rolled your eyes, sighing in exasperation.

Despite the sarcasm, you succumbed to his request, letting go of his annoyingly firm grasp in favor of continuing to finish your report. Hawks found himself relaxing into your thighs, overly hyper brain surprisingly calmed with the muted tapping of your keyboard.

After a few more minutes, you shifted, pushing his unsuspecting form onto the floor and giving a laugh at the pout overcoming his face. "Bathroom. I'll be two minutes, at the very most."

It was, in fact, just past one-hundred and twenty seconds by the time you returned. The hero was currently taking up occupancy in your swivel chair, oblivious to the confusion at which you glaring at your phone with.

"Do you somebody named Kano Kirisaki?" You asked.

"Who?" He asked without looking up.

"The Hound Hero. He's somewhere in the late sixties on the charts, I think?" Despite your career as a pro-sidekick, you weren't exactly overly concerned with the rankings.

"Oh," he replied, ignoring the urge to add a 'called it.' A tic of annoyance threatened to emerge on his forehead, but he did his best to ignore it. "What about him?"

"I just got a text. The guy said that you gave him my number. Is that true?"

That made him pause.

"He said what?" The vexation simmering in his copper gaze was downright terrifying, only extenuated by the slow upturn of his chin as his eyes met yours.

"Apparently not." You made a beeline for the door, device still in hand and fingers typing away. "I'll just let him know that-"

Something whizzed past your face and you came to an abrupt halt, feeling the breath of air over your cheek as the object whirled by and just barely missed you.

You blinked, taking a moment to recognize what had just happened. You hadn't been hit, but the object previously in your hand?

Less lucky.

Spinning around in shock, you were met with the stupefied face of Hawks, who was currently staring in horror at the item stuck in the wall and the feather protruding out of it.

He just skewered your phone.

You turned again, silently walking over and yanking the hardened plume out before inspecting the damage. The screen had been shattered, the back cameras also blown to bits from the harsh impact.

"Oh, fuck." The hero stood, movements quick and panicked as he ran over to you. "Oh, shit. I am so sorry."

"What the fuck?" The sentence was less of an aggressive statement, more of an actual, bewildered question. Seeing as how completely flabbergasted you were, it was almost hard to be genuinely angry for the first few seconds.

"I swear, I don't know why I did that," he assured, running a hand through his hair in alarm. "But I'll get you a new one. That model was kinda old anyways…"

You scoffed. "Oh, thank goodness. I was hoping to get a replacement. How wonderful that you happened to impale this one."

His arm caught yours as you turned to leave, forcing your line of sight to meet his. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Against your best efforts, you felt your chest lighten a bit at the tenderness he was regarding you with. It was almost impossible to stay cold when the guy you had been admiring for weeks was looking at you like that. "I just don't... I just need you to know that you can be honest with me. I don't know what's wrong, but if there's anythi-"

Your eyes shot open as his mouth smashed against yours, taking a pause before fluttering to a close.

One of his hands curled into your hair, the other finding its way around your waist. His kiss traveled over your jaw, trailing until it was above your collarbone.

With his enhanced senses, it was easy to tell what areas you were most sensitive. He relished in every pleasured breath, the way your heart rate would speed up when he bit down ever so gently.

It took a tangible amount of self-control to keep himself from jumping you when the smallest whine fell from your lips. Instead, he lifted his leg in between your thighs, watching your form falter as a spark of warmth shot through your abdomen.

You around an arm across his shoulder, an attempt to steady yourself as you watched him pull away, arrogant grin gracing his features and eyes glowing softly. Their soft luminescence was nothing less than beautiful and you silently questioned why you hadn't scheduled more late night patrols. His fingers grazed underneath your shirt, tickled the skin of your waist with their gentle warmth.

The breath had escaped your lungs, but it was nearly impossible to keep the smile from your features. "What the fuck happened in that interview?"

Hawks chuckled, touch brushing over the small mark on your collarbone that he had left behind. His heart jumped at the thought of leaving more, leaving zero questions about who you belonged to. "Nothing that you need to worry about, sweetheart."

It was less than a day by the time you got your new phone.

#mha hawks #bnha imagines #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks bnha #hawks x you #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #keigo x reader #mha imagines #mha #bnha #hawks #hawks imagine

1K notes · View notes

akataiii · 2 months ago

Text

Go ahead and try (A Hawks x reader)

“It'd be so easy, you know?”

Tearing my eyes from the ballroom floor and casting my gaze to the right, I'm met by the sight of a smug-looking Kiki; a short woman with curly, purple hair and a pair of white dove wings residing on her back. She is also known as one of Hawks' most trusted sidekicks.

I turn my body so I'm facing her fully, readjusting my grip on the glass of champagne in my hand. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, tilting my head at her and quirking a puzzled brow.

“I'm sorry?” I ask, voice portraying the confusion I was feeling.

Kiki huffs, bringing her own glass of champagne to her lips and taking a languid sip while shifting her attention to the opposite side of the room. I follow her gaze, finding what, or rather, who she is staring at.

Hawks' pretty, red wings are unmistakable; standing out in the crowd and demanding immediate attention, almost as if screaming, ‘Look at me!’ And I did look. I always looked at my boyfriend.

I looked at how he gave his best every day, striving to be an amazing hero and somehow managing to muster up enough positive energy to make up for my lack of daily optimism.

Me and Keigo were pretty much two opposite ends of a coin, and yet we somehow worked together perfectly, making up that coin in perfect harmony each and every day.

“What I meant was,” Kiki starts, drawing my focus back to her, where she's taking another sip of her champagne. “It would be easy for me to steal Hawks from you,” she finishes, turning to look at me with a smug smirk.

I blink at her, momentarily stunned. Well, that came out of nowhere, I think to myself, (e/c) eyes widened in surprise. It doesn't take long for me to get over the initial shock though, instead letting out an amused huff before folding my arms across my chest, careful not to spill my champagne.

“Well then,” I say, letting my features fall into a relaxed and unbothered expression. “By all means, have at it. Try your best,” I prompt, trying my best to suppress my laughter at the astonished look Kiki sends my way.

“Seriously? Just like that?” She questions, looking slightly disappointed at not receiving any kind of negative reaction from me. “You're just going to give him up?”

I shrug, bringing my glass of champagne to my lips and looking over at Keigo’s bright, red wings again. “I don't see how it's necessary for me to put up a fight,” I reply, a faint smile grazing my lips as I catch Keigo laughing at something Mirko said.

“You have no respect for your relationship,” is the last thing I hear Kiki say before her heels are clacking loudly against the tiled floor, and she's marching away from me.

Nope, I think to myself, feeling smug and self-assured at my own thoughts. I just have that much faith in my boyfriend.

—

I stretch my arms above my head, hastily bringing one hand back down to stifle the yawn that slips past my lips. The cement of the sidewalk feels hard under my feet as I walk back towards me and Keigo's apartment, returning from the day at my boring, mundane, civilian job.

I don't regret my choice of not becoming a hero. The whole flashy, saving people lifestyle just never suited me, and I was perfectly alright with that. Even if my job was mundane and void of any flashiness, it never failed to fill me with a sense of joy.

How could I ever hate the flower shop I worked at when it's where I met my lovely boyfriend? I still remember the day Keigo came in, fresh on the job, and picking up the flower order for the grand opening of his hero agency.

Even if our relationship was rocky at first, filled with countless bickering and endless antagonizing (all from my end, oopsie), we ended up together and in love anyway, and I could never be happier than when I was by his side.

Of course, life is never that simple, and neither are relationships, especially that of a pro-hero. Keigo was never allowed to let the public know about himself, always forced by the Hero Public Safety Commission to hide behind the Hawks exterior they curated for him.

A select few people did know about our relationship, though. Mostly the heroes Keigo worked alongside and the sidekicks at his agency.

Which is where Kiki comes in.

It's been a week since her random confession to me at the Hero Gala me and Keigo attended. It didn't bother me; instead, I was only curious to see if Kiki would actually carry through her plan of 'stealing Hawks from me.’

Thoughts of how I could possibly ask my boyfriend about it swirl around in my mind as I continue my trip home. My feet hit the pavement in a rhythmic pattern, lulling me into a state where I was only half paying attention to the world around me. Suddenly, the red feather around my neck gives a violent jerk to the right, almost knocking me off my balance.

I stumble on the cement below me, regaining my footing before glaring down at the feather in confusion and irritation. It had settled back down and was resting innocently against the skin of my collarbone, like it didn't just almost choke me half to death.

Knowing it had a mind of its own and was likely trying to show me something, I shift my gaze to the right, the direction in which the feather jerked in. Immediately, my eyes latch onto the two red wings on the opposite side of the road.

Keigo stands talking to Kiki, hands raised in surrender and seemingly waving away something she's saying.

What a pleasant surprise, I think to myself, moving to lean against the nearest lamp pole. My arms are folded comfortably across my chest as I watch whatever situation is currently playing out in front of me.

I watch as Kiki says something else to Keigo, her lips curled into a wide, mischievous grin as her finger lightly pokes his chest.

Kiki is Hawks' most trusted ally, always going with him on patrol and assisting him on missions. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that they were close, and the media even went into its usual conspiracy theories that the two might be dating.

Keigo, polite as always, denies the accusations every time, waving them away with his usual smile and saying nothing other than, ‘She’s a great sidekick. Nothing more.’

I was never the jealous type and never would be. Hawks may be some flirty, charming hero persona created by the HPSC to be shown to the public, but in private, Keigo was happy to just be. While he was still a flirty and charismatic person in general, when he got off the clock and came home, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

I smile to myself, thinking of all the nights the blonde came home and immediately attacked me with a flurry of chirps and kisses, letting his suppressed bird instincts free. I would always dissolve into a fit of giggles when he twittered and chirped in my ear, telling me how much he loves me and how much he missed me that day.

Point being, I had complete faith in my boyfriend and trusted our devotion to one another.

Back to the current time, the feather around my neck gives another jerk, this one much less violent, catching my attention and causing me to frown down at it in concern.

In theory, or well, confirmed by Keigo, the red feather around my neck was just an extension of his body and Quirk, meaning the feather reacted the same way the feathers on his back did. Which could only mean…

I lift my gaze to inspect the pair of heroes across the street. Kiki had made her way further into Keigo's personal space, now standing only inches away from him and running a hand along his chest while looking up at him from under half-lidded eyes. Even from where I stood, I could read the seduction in her actions, and it caused me to physically cringe. Is she aware of just how desperate she looks?

I feel the feather twitch again, and with my gaze focused on Keigo, I catch the way the feathers on his back twitch as well, a clear indication of his discomfort.

As previously mentioned, I had complete faith in my boyfriend, and I'm also aware of how the HPSC controlled his actions and personality in public. I also know that Keigo is a considerate person and cares deeply for the people he works with. It's for those reasons that I don't blame Keigo for not immediately shoving Kiki away or yelling at her to keep her distance from him. Lashing out at her would only get him in trouble and nag at his subconscious.

I think for a few moments, mind filing through ways I could possibly save my boyfriend from the predicament he was in. My gaze falls on the twitching feather again, and my eyes widen at the newfound idea in my mind.

I kick myself off of the lamp pole, unfolding my arms and reaching a hand up to gently pinch the feather between my fingers, knowing exactly how sensitive the item is. With measured actions, I tentatively bring the feather to my lips and softly graze it against them, smiling when I catch Keigo stiffening across the street.

“Hey Kei,” I whisper, knowing the blonde could hear my every word.

Keigo's head whips around: beady, golden eyes immediately finding me and lighting up with a happiness I recognize all too well. He hastily pulls Kiki’s hand from his chest and makes his way over to me, all in a matter of mere seconds. A man too fast for his own good, I chuckle to myself, finding amusement in my own thought.

“Hello my love,” Keigo greets, arms instinctively wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I smile, soft and almost unnoticeable, but Keigo knows it's there nonetheless, and I bring my hands up to cradle his face in my palms.

“Hello,” I mumble, gaze fixed on the way Keigo's lips are spread into a wide smile, and his eyes are filled with that fondness always aimed at me. If there was ever any doubt as to whether or not Keigo loved me, all that you needed to do was analyze the way he looked at me. In those golden, sunset irises, you’d always find the undeniable answer written between his affection.

Keigo lets out a soft chuckle before pulling his face from my hands and closing the distance between us, nuzzling his face against my cheek with quiet chirps escaping his lips.

“Missed you so much,” Keigo coos, planting soft pecks against my cheek.

“You're going to get into trouble with the commission,” I warn, making no effort to put a stop to his actions of showering me with affection.

“Don't care,” he says, voice muffled where his face is buried in the crook of my neck.

“I know, but I do,” I say with a giggle, softly running a hand through his hair and pulling out a small twig that likely got stuck there when he was flying.

“I wanna kiss you,” he admits quietly, the sadness shining through in his tone. My brows draw together in a sympathetic frown, only able to imagine how trapped he feels, bound by the HPSC’s rules and regulations.

As much as I would have loved for him to kiss me right then, I knew it only spelled trouble for the both of us. The way his arms were wrapped around me now was already bordering on the limits set for us by the commission. Anything else would definitely end in ruin.

“Kei,” I gently warn, and he gets the message hidden behind the word, pulling his face from my neck and standing upright, releasing my form and taking a small step back. His lips are jutted out in a pout, and his brows are settled in a light frown, pulling yet another soft giggle from me at how adorable he looks.

Picking up the feather around my neck again, I place it against my lips to give it a kiss, and Keigo's cheeks flare up in a blush.

“I'll give you a proper kiss when you get home after patrol, Pretty Bird,” I promise, never missing the way my boyfriend’s eyes light up in excitement. Like a kiss from me is some holy gift bestowed on him from above.

“I'm holding you to that,” Keigo says, wings flapping behind him and sending a gust of wind my way as he rises up in the air. He gives me a final wave and blows me a kiss before he flies away, leaving me alone on the ground.

My eyes fall from the sky and land on Kiki, who is staring forward with a stunned expression, mouth hanging open in pure bewilderment and shock, as if I'm the one that just tried to steal her boyfriend. The ridiculous notion causes me to laugh, catching her attention and bringing her focus back to reality.

With a smug, self-satisfied smirk, I pull the feather between my fingers again to hold it out on display for the woman, my other hand raising to flip her the bird. (Pun fully intended.)

˗ˋ Bonus ˊ˗

“Hello my love.”

Keigo tackles me into the couch’s cushions, and I giggle freely at the chirps filling the air and the lips tickling my ear. I scrunch my nose at the sensation, hands burying themselves in Keigo's hair to try and reel him in a little.

“Hi Pretty Bird,” I greet back, earning me a happy chirp at the nickname. “I missed you too.”

“Hmm,” Keigo hums, placing another peck on my cheek and pulling back to place his forehead against mine. “Where's my promised kiss?”

My lips tug into a smile, and I can't resist the urge to tease him at least a little.

“Where's my—”

I'm interrupted by Keigo’s phone ringing, his ringtone blaring from the coffee table and disrupting the peace of our shared apartment.

We stare at the lit-up screen for a moment, both of us able to recognize the caller ID as that belonging to the HPSC. My stomach twists nervously, and I shoot Keigo a concerned glance.

“Did you get into trouble?” I question, fearing the answer would be yes.

Keigo looks to me as well, ignoring the phone still ringing in the background. His lips are pulled into a guilty smile, brows furrowed nervously. “I wouldn't exactly call it trouble,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

In his attempt to avoid any events that may have transpired earlier that afternoon, I find my concern melting away, replaced by fondness and endearment.

“Shouldn't you answer that?” I question, pointing to the phone still ringing on the coffee table.

Keigo sends a feather out to retrieve his phone, inspecting it in his hand before pressing the ‘decline’ button and tossing the device over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says, lips curling into a lazy smirk. “I'd rather take that kiss now.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes, cupping his face all the same and pulling him closer to slot our lips together; the action so fluid and natural. Like it was always meant to be Keigo's lips and no one else's.

#mha #anime #fanfic #writing #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami #bnha #oneshot #x reader #keigo x reader

112 notes · View notes

porkcutletbowl44 · 15 days ago

Text

Gothic muse

John Price x F!reader

(I'm turning the goth gf into a series not sorry) just fluff for Halloween!!!

༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･𓃠🪦

Price thinks he's starting to get too old to understand the younger generations, not particularly liking the new music going on mainstream, new styles and sayings that go straight over his head. As long as he can keep up with the technology, everything is fine and there's no issues (no matter how badly it pisses him off when Apple comes out with a new phone every month for no reason).

Price felt that the music got worse and worse as the newer generations appeared. It was just... Noise. There was no rhythm, no actual beat. It was just someone wailing into a microphone with a bunch of random noise in the background. Not to mention the fashion trends... Dear lord. He thought back to his youth when people dressed like real people and not like this. He never made a fuss over it; that person has their own life and choices, could do whatever they wanted. It didn't mean he had to understand why the fuck this random kid was walking around in basketball shorts in freezing weather.

But who is he kidding? He's just starting to sound like a grumpy old man. Though, it doesn't help that he is growing into a grumpy old man.

Price groaned, feeling his knees and his back crack and ache as he came down a set of stairs. The last mission really did a number on him. He passed by some younger people, dressed in all black and white makeup, bright death hawks and all the works.

"Bloody kids these days."

He stopped for a moment, realizing he was starting to sound more and more like a old old man, which he was far from. He was still in shape, still in the army, he wasn't that old...

But that didn't stop him from whining about the 'youths'.

"What happened to real music."

But when he sees little ol' you, standing behind a gothic-style taste test stand under a big spooky awning, he stops. You are dressed like the others, makeup, skulls and bat jewelry, flashing customers a happy smile.

Price's eyes scanned the area, pausing on the little stand with the bright gothic decorations. It was different from his normal type in women, but he wasn't complaining.

You looked cute, charming.

The thought put a smile on his face. Price watched for a moment, before deciding to approach the stand, pretending that he wanted to try whatever you were selling.

Price made his way up to the stand, leaning on the counter as he examined you.

You looked far off from 18, which was a but surprising. Most goths were teenagers, or in their early 20s. It was rare to see one who is in her more mature adulthood stage in life.

"So what's all this then?" He almost cringed at the roughness of his voice, sounding a little too hostile.

"I'm promoting my new drink for my good friends' restaurant opening soon, I'm a learning bartender and I want to get feedback." You smiled nervously, being polite and understanding.

Price's rough demeanor almost immediately softens at the sweet smile and sweet voice. You were just too damn adorable, he couldn't help it.

"Really? So what's the drink called then?" He asks, looking down at the dark purple drink in front of him, examining it closely. "An' the restaurant? Or is it some kind o' pub?"

Your face lights up, you happily gush about your new mix. "I'm calling it Vampire Blood, it's a blackberry-flavored scotch. And the restaurant across the street— It's the Leaky Coffin. It's got a bar, yes, but I hear the food is delicious!"

It was so adorable how excited and happy you were, it almost made his heart melt.

"Vampire Blood," he repeated with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Clever name." He pauses, looking at the drink again before looking up at you.

"You make this yourself?" He questions, gesturing to the drink again.

"Yeah! You're welcome to try it, I'd appreciate the feedback!" You happily nodded.

Price gave in, reaching his hand out to take the drink. Bringing it up to his lips, he took a sip. The second the taste hit his tongue, he froze. It was... Actually really good. He took a bigger drink, finishing the rest of the cup.

"Bloody hell this is good." He said, a small smile on his face as he turns the glass on the table, "It's amazing."

"Really? I'm glad you like it," you beamed kindly.

Price gave you a friendly close lipped smile as he watched you practically melt in happiness at his reaction. His heart felt all warm and fuzzy seeing you so happy, it made him forget about the aching in his body.

"'S delicious." He said again. "You 'ave a real talent for this."

"Thank you! I start a week after the restaurant opens, I'll be mixing up more drinks soon," you play with your bat necklace, smiling up at him.

He's never really paid much attention to women who dressed like you or anything like that- normally he was more into the girl next door type, or a more casual, homey style- but you were so adorable and unique.

Price nods, his eyes locking onto the way you were fidgeting with your necklace.

"Yeah?" He questions, the smile on his face growing a little wider as he continues to watch you, admiring every little thing you did. "When does it open?" He asks, giving you a smile behind his mustache.

"Just a few days! I have some pictures of the interior-" you pull out your phone, tapping on the screen and showing him some pictures. "It's all real gothic architecture, real antiques, a real wine cellar in the basement too-"

The gothic architecture, the antiques, the basement winery- it all looked spectacular. It was unlike any bar or restaurant he'd ever been to.

"That's bloody phenomenal." Price said, looking at the pictures closely. "You're friends have great taste."

He looks up at you again, meeting your eyes with a soft and affectionate smile.

"Thanks! This is a dream come true for us, I'm so excited." You grinned.

Price felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon this sweet, kind woman. The fact that you weren't his type at first, but now that he's spoken to you he was already falling for your charm.

"I can tell." He chuckled, still smiling. "What's your name?" He asks suddenly. He should have asked earlier, hell- he should have asked since the moment he walked up to the stand.

You outstretch your hand, politely giving your name. Price smiles as you extend your hand out to him, and he takes it in his own, shaking it gently.

Your name was so pretty.

He wanted to hear it again, but this time in his own voice.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." His hand swallows yours in warmth, "I'm John," he gives you a small smile. "John Price."

"Nice to meet you too, John." You giggle softly.

Price had never been one to seek out goths or women like you- he had usually stuck with more "normal" people. But something about you was different. The kindness, the politeness, the gentle nature. And the fact that you dressed in black, decorated with skulls and bats didn't make you any less attractive to him. In fact, it made you even more attractive.

He didn't think he'd ever been this attracted to someone before. And god, he could stare into your eyes for hours.

He wanted to ask for your number, or invite you out on a date right then and there, but he held himself back. He didn't want to be too forward and scare you away. But he couldn't stop the thoughts of taking you out on a date, getting to know you. Price cleared his throat, trying to snap himself out of his own thoughts. He had just met you. You weren't his yet. He shouldn't be thinking like this.

He gave you a soft smile, his eyes still gazing into yours.

"Uh— sorry," he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "what... do you do when your not at your little stand 'ere?"

"Mostly help out with getting the restaurant ready. We have a lot of decorations and painting that has to be done. But on the weekends we attend Sirens Cave." You answered, flashing him a kind smile.

Price was fascinated by your answers, and the way you spoke. There was something about you that just made him want to pick your brain, and learn everything he could about you.

"Sirens Cave." He repeated, a little familiar with the name. "That's a bar, right?"

"It has a bar, yes, but it's mostly a Goth Club." You giggle.

That made a lot more sense, and it explained the bat and skull attire. Price smiles slightly, amused by the cuteness of your giggle.

"A 'Goth Club'." He repeated softly. "An' you frequent there a lot?"

"Not all the time, I can enjoy the peace and quiet at home. A book, TV show, baking..." You trail off.

Price was practically melting on the inside. You were such a sweetheart.

"You bake?" He questions, his tone almost turning into a cooing.

So you were kind, polite, and you like to read and bake, too?

He was definitely in trouble.

"Yeah, when I was in college I had a little baking business to help with loans." You nodded enthusiastically.

Price’s heart was almost bursting inside his chest. You just kept getting cuter and cuter. Not just that, but you were ambitious and smart.

Bloody hell.

He had never fallen so hard before.

Price couldn't help the little flutter in his chest at the thought of you baking. The fact that you were making money with baking was really impressive. He wanted to know every little thing about you; past, present, future. He would be lying if he said he wasn't already a little obsessed.

"College, huh?" He asks, leaning against the counter. "What'd you study?"

"I did mixology for a little bit, and then I switched over to architecture to help get the building structure what we wanted." You used hand gestures out of excitement, happy to talk about you and your friend's dreams.

He smiled, admiring your excitement. "Architecture." He repeated, nodding. "That's impressive."

Architecture wasn't easy, especially not trying to make a building how you wanted. He could tell how passionate you were about this.

"Did you graduate?" He asks.

"I did! A few years ago,"

You were literally perfect.

"So this little gothic restaurant you're gonna work at- you designed it too, yeah?" He questions, wanting to know everything.

"Most of the design was by me, yes," you answered proudly.

You had studied architecture, then gone on to design a full restaurant, one that you and your friend were opening soon. He was seriously falling for you. Hard.

"That's incredible." He said, admiring you, maybe even buttering you up in the chances of you saying yes to a date, "Must feel good, seein' your design come alive, yeah?"

"I'm so happy, it's a dream come true!" You couldn't suppress your bright grin, all teeth and eyes crinkling.

Price was in love. It wasn't even funny. Seeing that bright grin made his heart leap in his chest. If he wasn't falling before, he most definitely was now. He was practically swooning. No one had made him fall for someone this fast.

"I can tell." He smiles back, that soft, fond smile.

"One of my friends will be the head chef, she does a lot of culinary and her food is delicious! Definitely something I'd recommend to try out- she's trying new dishes for the opening too!" You mentioned.

Price listened to you enthusiastically rant about your work, your friends, everything. It was the cutest thing imaginable hearing how excited you got talking about everything. He loved the way you'd light up when talking about your new restaurant.

He listens intently as you gushed about your passion, talking about anything and everything about it. It sounded like it would be a good place to eat; good food, good drinks, good atmosphere. He could see you being a very talented bartender, if your little potion is anything to go by.

"You'll be the bartender then?" He questions, raising a brow.

"A week after it opens." You reminded sweetly.

"Right, a week after it opens." He repeated, a small smile on his face.

He wanted to know if you were single or not. But there's no way someone as perfect as you could be single, you were probably taken...

"Got any... special someone you wanna celebrate it with?" He asks softly.

"No, me and the group might have a celebration together at some point." You shook your head.

He had the chance.

He gave you a small smile, the thought of you being single had him practically dizzy.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, he was calm, but his mind was going crazy with excitement. "When you you think you'll have that celebration?"

"Maybe during the weekend, it's best to not come to run a restaurant hung over," you giggled, tucking hair behind your ear.

The way you smiled and giggled and talked, it sent butterflies through his stomach. This was new; he was normally the one doing the flirting. But you had him swooning. He wanted to just take you in his arms and never let you go.

"Guess that's a good idea." He said, smiling playfully at you. "The weekend then hm?"

"Likely, I'm free the rest of the week." You mentioned casually.

Price's insides practically melted as you said that. You were free the rest of the week? That meant he had a chance to take you out on a date. A smile spread across his lips, his heart beating a little faster in his chest.

"Are you now?" He teased lightly, raising a brow. "Would you fancy trying your new restaurant on opening day?" He insinuates.

"Oh would I?" You almost squeal in excitement, over joyed at the offer.

It was so cute. You were so cute.

"Yeah," He says, still smiling that big, soft, and fond smile. "Would you? With me?" he adds with a coo in the undertone.

"I'd love too!" You nodded enthusiastically.

You said yes. You said yes to the date. The butterflies in his stomach felt more like fireworks as he looked at your excited face.

"Great." He affirms, pleased, "I'll pick ya up then yeah?"

"Yeah! Here's my number-" you pull a card over, scribbling on it and handing it to him, the light glints on your nail polish spider web design

He flipped the card over, looking at the number. He was committing it to memory. He looked back up at you, smiling.

"I'll make sure to use it." He said, slipping the card into his pocket.

"See you then, John." You smile all giddy and excited.

No one had made him smile this much in a while, he was normally the one doing the swooning. Your smile and the way you giggled made his heart flutter like crazy.

"I'll see you then, love."

You were so...different. You knew what you wanted. You knew your passion and executed it.

It was impressive, really. Most people just work with what they have, take what's dealt to them. But you? You went beyond. You decided to make a dream a reality, and by the look of things, it would be a success. You were determined and hardworking and ambitious, and you went after your dream no matter what.

Everything about you was different from women Price was used to. You were a go getter, a dream chaser. You had ambition, creativity, a spark.

But you were also kind, and sweet, and soft.

You liked history, that much was given. You had a interest in gothic architecture and strived to keep it alive.

And that mysterious aura—

Price would admit it; when he first walked up to your booth he had some prejudices. But you proved him wrong. He was completely fascinated by you. He wanted to learn everything about you.

He could tell you had secrets, things hidden beneath that sweet appearance. He was very interested to see how many secrets you had, and what they were.

He liked that about you; the air of mystery.

And the fact that you were just generally so attractive.

When opening day arrives, you are waiting outside the restaurant. You've went a little easy on the gathering make up, allowing John to see more of your natural features for the date.

Price pulled up to the restaurant, parking his car to the side. When he stepped out, he felt his jaw drop. You looked absolutely beautiful. The dress was simple but elegant, and your jewelry completed the look.

You were gorgeous.

Price just stared at you for a moment, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be able to see you like this. He walked over to you, his smile bright.

"You look stunning, love."

You twirled your dress a little, preening and blushing, "Thank you,"

He gave you a wide, fond smile, admiring the way the dress looked on you.

"Of course." He tilts his head. "Absolutely beautiful."

He offered you his arm. "Should we go in then, love?"

You wrapped your hand around his thick bicep, walking in to the restaurant. The sight is beautiful, people at tables, the smell of wood and rich timbre fills the air, warm lights everywhere to make the atmosphere moody and relaxing.

He was blown away; it was like he had stepped into a whole other world. It was relaxed yet elegant, like the people at the tables. The low lights gave it a moody, romantic feel, and Price couldn't help but think how beautiful it was. And you were responsible for it all.

He was definitely taking you home at the end of the night.

"Hi, table for two," you held up two fingers, smiling at the host.

The host smiled back and nodded, grabbing two menus. She lead you too your booth, setting the menus down for you. The table was near a large window that revealed the beautiful view outside, and the low mood lighting was just bright enough to read the menu. Price sat down in the seat across from you, picking up one of the menus. He scanned the menu, eyes practically going wide upon realizing how good everything sounded. He had a hard time trying to pick what to get.

You picked up your own coffin shaped menu, smiling in recognition.

The food names were odd, and a bit blunt to say the least, it was a complete vampire type of vibe in the building.

Price read through the different meals, eyes widening further as he realized it was all vampire themed. A "Bloody Mary" was a type of pizza, a "Count Garlic" was the appetizers. He was even more impressed with what he was seeing. He looked at the drink menu, and saw "Holy Communion", which was their cocktail list. He was thoroughly enjoying this. It was cool that you had turned the menu names into a theme. He set the menu down, smiling at you.

"This is interesting."

"That was the fun part about this, coming up with funny names." You giggled.

Price's heart skipped a beat as you giggled. It was so cute how excited you were. You were practically glowing with happiness and pride. He was so gone for you. He leaned forward on the table, propping his chin up with his hand, smiling at you.

"I love the names." He remarked. "Creative."

"I feel like you would really like the 'Dead Cow'." You inquired playfully

Price grinned, raising his eyebrows in interest. Dead Cow? That was an interesting name for a meal. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

"The 'Dead Cow', eh?" He hums, "That sounds promising."

He scans the menu, eyes landing on the dish.

'A 311 gram steak; typically cooked rare to sink your fangs into! Paired with roasted potatoes, deadly asparagus, and a fresh dead cow on top! Medium rare is fine... If you ask well-done we will ask you to leave.'

Price almost choked on his spit when he saw the description. It was so blunt, and darkly humorous. He couldn't help but bark out a laugh when he read the last part.

"Oh my god," He said in between his laughter. "This is fantastic."

You laughed with him, turning on the back of the menu.

"There's dessert too, if you'd be interested."

God, everything about this place was amazing. He glanced back down at the menu, turning to the dessert page. He read through it, his mouth almost watering. They all sounded great. He looked back up at you, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, I'm interested." He chuckled.

"Is it the lava cakes?" You grinned.

He smiled back at you, impressed. "Yes, it is the lava cakes." He admitted, leaning back in his seat. "'ow'd you know?"

"Lucky guess?" You shrugged, closing your menu when the waitress comes

Price chuckled, shutting his menu as well as the waitress came over. He watched you closely, admiring you as you told her your order. He ordered the Rare Cow, because how could he not? When the waitress left to go put in the order, he looked back to you, resting his chin on his folded hands.

"You did really good with this place."

"I'm so happy it turned out like this," you sighed dreamily.

You looked so happy, so content. He leaned forward on the table, resting his chin on his hands as he continued to admire you.

"You should be proud o' yourself," he said sincerely. "You did that." He gestured around to the restaurant. "You really did that."

"With help," you added.

It was true that you had gotten help. But most of this was your idea. Your passion. Your creativity. Your hard work and determination. It was all you.

"Still." He said, his tone gentle and earnest. "It's all you, love."

"Ah! You're here!" A woman squeals, walking over with her arm outstretched for a hug to you.

You gladly accepted, hugging her tight. "The day has finally come!" You said into her neck.

Obviously a friend of yours.

"I know," the women smiled, pulling back from the hug. "We did it!"

"Oh, sorry—this is John, my...date for tonight." You introduced sheepishly, "And this is Charlotte, the owner of the restaurant."

He smiled, he was getting bits and pieces of your life and friendships. He held his hand out to shake hers.

"Pleasure to meet you, Charlotte." He said, his tone polite.

Charlotte smiled, shaking his hand. "The pleasure is all mine." She said cheerfully, then she gave you a wide grin, wiggling her eyebrows. "You kept this one a secret."

You sputter, trying to keep her voice down, "I did not!"

"You so did!" She teased. She turned her attention to Price. "This girl has never brought a date around us before."

You slap at her shoulder, mumbling something under your breath. Price grinned, watching you get a bit flustered as Charlotte teased you. So, you talked about him. That made him feel warm. Charlotte laughed, letting go of his hand.

"You never told me he was HOT!" She said cheerfully.

"Charlotte!" You whined.

Charlotte shrugged innocently. "What? He is!" She exclaims.

"Go do your business stuff," you shooed, completely mortified and flustered.

He had his mouth covered with his hand, his shoulders shaking from how hard he was holding it in. Charlotte just laughed, clapping you on the shoulder.

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you two be." She said with fake disappointment. "I'll have a bottle of wine taken to you guys, on the house." She winks.

"Thanks, now- get, go, shoo," you grumbled, completely embarrassed.

Charlotte just smiled widely, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Fine, I'll leave you two, lovebirds alone." She teased.

You tucked your hair back, clearing your throat. "Sorry...she gets very loud when she's happy,"

Price finally let out the laugh he had been holding in. He leaned back in his seat, his face absolutely shining with amusement. Charlotte seemed nice. He smiled at you, his heart melting at the way you were.

"It's fine, love."

"I think she's great, actually." He chuckled.

Charlotte was just a little nosy, but it was all in good fun. Besides, he wanted to get to know more about you and your life.

"'ow do y'know 'er?" He asked curiously.

"College. We had a couple classes together, met our other friends and boom, we had a little goth friend group." You smiled wide at the memory.

It was sweet how all of your goth friends stuck together from college. He couldn't really connect with that; he never really made friends in the military. He had colleagues he tolerated, and that was about it besides his team. But you, you had friends you loved and who loved you. It was sweet.

"So...is Goth just the style?"

You shook your head politely, folding your hands on the table. "It's a subculture, the music genre is the classification."

A waitress comes up, dropping off a bottle of wine, "From the owner."

He loved the way you knew so much about this. He knew very little about the subculture, but he wanted to know as much as he could. He could listen to you talk about this all night.

"What genre is it exactly?" He asked, his tone curious and eager to learn more.

You proceed to kindly explain as you poured yourself some wine. The genre of goth has branching styles; there were many. Dark wave, cyber, steam punk, regular old punk goth, metal goth, the goth traditions and having a open mind. He learned about the music, about the traditions, the aesthetics, and everything he could about it. He loved hearing you talk about it. You were so knowledgeable and excited as you spoke. The waitress drops off your orders as you explain, giving her a kind nod of appreciation.

"Damn." He said when you finally finished explaining. "You're a scholar."

"It's just the basics for those who first get into it," you brush off politely.

Price smiled, finding it cute how modest you were. The basics, yeah right. He bet you could tell people a lot more than just the basics.

"Hm, maybe I should start listening to goth music." He muses, half joking and half serious.

"Maybe you might find something you like," you comment, taking a sip of your wine.

He definitely found something he liked- you. The food on the table looks fantastic, it smells amazing, everything is going perfectly.

"I'm sure I will."

Price finished his first glass, setting it down on the table. The alcohol instantly warmed his body, relaxing him. He looked at all the different food on the table, not sure where to start.

"Everythin' looks great."

"Taste good too," you agree, cutting off another piece of chicken parmesan.

Price took a bite of his steak. Perfectly cooked. Bloody, but not too bloody, the flavor burst into his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Holy..." He muttered between bites. "It's delicious."

"So John, what do you do for work?" You grabbed your wine glass, looking over at him with a curious expression.

He took time considering the question. He couldn't tell you everything, of course. But he didn't want to lie to you either.

"I work in private military." He settled on saying.

"Ohhh, that's cool!" You nodded along, interested in the new direction the conversation was going.

Price smiled. Thank god you didn't ask more. Most people would. They'd ask what kind of private military, what missions he's been on, what his job was specifically. But you didn't ask, you just accepted that and moved on. He was very grateful for that. It was the downside of his job. He was pretty much forced to lie to people, even his loved ones.

"Yeah." He continued, "it's an interesting job."

"So I take it you're off for the time being?" You asked.

Price smiled again. You really didn't ask probing questions, did you? It was a much better change of pace then what he was used too. Most people wanted all the info, wanted to know everything. It was refreshing that you just accepted what he said without being pushy.

"I am." He replied.

Price couldn't believe it. He wasn't one to believe in luck, but damn, he was feeling lucky. This date really was perfect. The restaurant was amazing, the food was so good, and the company was absolutely out of this world. Talking to you was so easy, he found himself constantly smiling, laughing, and just having a great time.

He never wanted this night to end.

Price insist for you to wear his jacket before you went out into the chilly London night air, that dress wouldn't do much to keep you warm.

You tried to refuse, saying you were fine and that you didn't need it. But he was persistent, and honestly, the way you looked in his jacket was something he couldn't resist.

"Please." He insisted, slipping his jacket around your shoulders, "you'll freeze."

You smiled sheepishly, tugging it around your shoulders as his lingering warmth soothed your skin.

"You smell good," you remarked softly as you looped your arm with his.

He made a mental note to wear that cologne more often. He kept your arm tucked close to his, walking close so you could absorb more of his warmth.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking down at you. "What's it like?"

"I can't really place it, but it's nice." You replied all bashful and giddy.

His jacket was much too big for you, but you looked great in it.

You were holding his arm with both of your hands, like couples do. He smiled down at you, his eyes absolutely lighting up with joy. No one's ever held onto his arm like that before. None of his ex's, none of his flings.

It was something special that only you did.

Everything was just perfect right now. The weather, the night air, the city lights. And most of all, you.

He loved that, he loved the feeling of being wanted. Being needed. To be touched and held close by someone he wanted so bad. He moved his other hand to cover your hands, his fingers running over yours.

Price slowed to a stop as you reached the parking lot, his heart starting to race a bit. You had an entire parking lot to yourselves. No one to bother you, no one to interrupt. He looked down at you, staring into your eyes. He didn't know if it was appropriate to kiss you right now.

He didn't know where things stood between you two now that he thinks about it. Did you want him to walk you to your front door? Did you want him to drive you home? This was the moment where decisions had to be made.

"I...had a lot of fun, thank you for tonight," You smiled nervously, teeth shining past your lipstick.

Price couldn't take his eyes off of you. The way the street lights hit you, the way the air blew your hair, everything about you in this moment was just perfect.

"Me too." He replied, his fingers moving to rest against your chin, tilting your head upwards to look him in the eyes.

He loved how those big, shiny eyes of yours looked when you smiled.

"Do you want me to walk you 'ome?"

Where was your head at? Is it okay to pursue?

"I don't live too far, and you drove all the way out here..." You declined politely.

He could see the want in your eyes as you denied him. It was driving him insane. He knew he should let you go, walk you to the door, like a proper date should.

He needed more time with you.

"Could I see you again?" You both asked in unison, the action makes you snort and truly laugh.

Price was a little startled, not expecting you to ask the same exact question. But the awkwardness was quickly brushed off as the two of you started laughing. His heart was racing from that. You wanted to see him again. His smile grew wider, his hand falling from your chin to your hip, pulling you in.

"Yeah." He agreed, breathlessly. "Yeah, 'course."

"I would like to see you again, I mean." You clarified with the last shred of shy tension gone, growing bold.

"Yeah? You'd like that?" He questioned in a low, soft voice, looking down at you intently.

You nodded wordlessly, smile dropping into something less cheery into... Sly.

"Your jacket...?" You tugged on the collar.

Price's smile shifted into something more darker, more hungry. You wanted a bit more then just a goodbye. He let out a hum, his eyes raking over your body, pausing at how you looked in his jacket.

He absolutely did not want his jacket back.

"I think it looks better on you." He replied.

He slouches, his body pressing against you as his head hovered a few inches above yours.

His heart was racing, all the blood in his body pumping south. You smiled wide, making your eyes crinkle. Your hands cupped his bearded jaw, leaning up and— planting a kiss on his cheek. Price's brain short-circuited when he felt your lips touch his skin, and then immediately rerouted all of his brain function to his core. The feel of your soft, plump lips on his skin drove him nuts.

Pulling back, your blush is across your nose, a giggle bubbling in your throat.

"I was hoping you'd let me keep it... Gives a reason for us to see each other."

His eyes were glued to your lips as he let out a low rumble, practically growling in the back of his throat with a knowing smirk at your actions. You were being cheeky, and your little smile tells him you know it too.

"Call me?" You asked, backing away a few steps.

"I absolutely will." He replied, rougher than usual, almost in a trance.

"I'll be waiting." You nodded, turning and walking down the street.

Price watched you walk away for a minute, his eyes glued to your frame walking down the street. His mind replayed the feel of your lips on his skin, the heat of your body pressed up against his, the sound of your soft, breathy giggles.

He could see the sway of your hips, the way you looked completely wrapped up in his jacket- your sweet, beautiful, innocent face, turned back to him with the promise of a second date- all drove him insane. He swallowed heavily and pulled his car keys out.

But he made a promise to himself, he was going to take this slow, and not scare you away. But god was that going to be a test of his self-restraint.

....It's a wonder how he didn't notice your fangs, though.

#happy halloween!#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x goth!reader #captain john price #john price #john price cod #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #vampire goth #goth reader #141 and a goth reader #goth fanfiction

67 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year ago

Note

maybe like a couple weeks after their first date he runs into r again & roan gets excited

thank you for your request! eddie and roan —single dad!eddie and his daughter roan bump into you at the store and make your intentions clear to one another. fem!reader, 2k

Eddie has biceps of steel from the last few years of constant carrying. Roan doesn't tire him out quickly anymore; he can carry her from the car to the store and back again without aching. It's the lack of hands for lifting things that pose a problem.

Every time he comes to the store he swears he's just gonna grab the one thing he came in for, and every time he ends up with a basket full of stuff he's been meaning to get for the last week or two, bandaids and dish detergent, Roan's favourite cookies because she's been a sweetheart this week even if they're three times as expensive as the okay ones, and even if it all makes the basket heavy as a bowling ball.

"You'll have to go down, you're slipping," he says to her.

Roan is regretfully exhausted today, and doesn't like the sound of this at all. "I don't want to walk," she mumbles.

"I know, sweetheart. Just for a bit." He plops her down on two feet, the burn in his arms mitigating slightly. "There we go. If you be a good girl for me we can get a big bag of candy, okay?"

"You promise?" she asks.

Her little voice makes it impossible to disappoint her. "I promise. You can still hold my hand if you need to."

She holds his hand for a little while. The last things on Eddie's list are actually the first things, the only things he'd come in for —socks for both of them. He noticed that pretty much all of his are out of commission, and Roan's get lost in the washer every other day.

Roan chooses to roam free, but she's learned her lesson since his last heart attack and doesn't wander. Eddie refuses to give her an opportunity, watching her like a hawk. It's why he doesn't notice you at first standing in front of the pyjamas feeling the soft fabrics between your fingers.

Roan skips back to his side. "Daddy, look," she implores, pointing.

Eddie picks up a packet of socks. "Two seconds."

"Look! Look!" she insists.

Eddie tosses the socks in the basket with all the enthusiasm of someone who's been in work for seven and a half hours. "What, babe?"

You've stepped a couple of paces closer, waving at him when he notices you with your endearing, awkward smile.

"Hello, Munsons," you say, in a way that Eddie takes for the shyness of going out with someone and an obvious delight to see them.

"Hey," he says, in the same shy-delighted combo.

Roan giggles infectiously and bounds forward to your legs. You hold your shopping basket out of the way. "Hey, princess! Wow, look at you! This is a pretty dress. Purple's your colour."

Roan rubs her cheek into your thigh. "Hi," she drags out.

"I'd pick you up, but my hands are full," you say. Basket in one hand, keys in the other, you've done the same as Eddie by the looks of things, come in for a quick stop and got distracted. "It's so nice to see you, it's been a whole week!"

Eddie tucks his hair behind his ear. "I meant to call you back last night, I'm sorry. I put her to bed and totally forgot."

Thankfully, you don't hold it against him. If anything, his apology brings an even bigger smile to your face.

"That's okay, handsome." Eddie has to physically hide his pleasure, hand behind his head to scratch at his neck bashfully. "That's just fine, I wasn't worried. I mean, unless I should be worried?"

"Definitely don't be worried," he begs.

Five dates, one of which at his trailer, and a countless number of phone calls between, Eddie's confident that this might go someplace good. He's a wuss, though, for not having kissed you yet. He's trying to be a gentleman (he's scared shitless that he's forgotten how to do it right, and he likes you so much, he really wants to do it right).

"Then I'm not worried," you say, rubbing Roan's little shoulders with your pinky and marriage finger, careful not to rake your keys over her shoulder blade.

"We're getting, uh– the big candy," Roan says.

"Yeah? The movie size bags? Your dad is so nice, every time we talk he's bought you something."

"He's so nice," Roan agrees clumsily.

Eddie shakes his head, "No, it's just my job."

You send him a fond look. "I can't pretend that I know how to do it, but if you asked me, I'd say you were, like, creme of the crop, you know? It's amazing."

Eddie takes that for encouragement. While Roan is busy pressed to your thighs adoringly, he juggles his basket into the other arm for want of something to do while he says, "Wayne offered to take Roan for the night this Friday if I wanted to make plans. Do you– would you be free? We could see a movie."

"I would be, and if I wasn't I'd make myself free," you say.

Eddie really, really likes that about you —you're honest. You don't play mind games. He figures it wouldn't work in your favour anyhow, considering you'd asked him out first, but he still appreciates it. It's nice to feel wanted.

He really needs to kiss you, he thinks. If the moments right, at the movies, maybe he can hit you with the classic yawning faux play and wrap an arm around your shoulders.

"You know I don't mind if Roan comes, right?" you ask.

"I know, but– I kind of wanna focus on you, yeah? It drives me crazy wanting to get to know everything about you and having to wait until the next time we see each other."

"Well," —you look down at Roan, shyness cropping up once more— "I'm not seeing anybody else. It's only you. I really love telling you things, and I'd love to go out with you, just us." You give Roan a blinding smile. "But I'll miss you, princess."

Roan whines with her arms raised. You put your basket down on the ground and crouch to accept a hug that turns to a clinging, Roan's legs wrapping around your waist as you perch your head over her shoulder.

"I'm not seeing anybody else, either," Eddie says.

You pat Roan's back. "Awesome."

Are you exclusive? Just like that? Eddie doesn't think that's how being someone's boyfriend goes, but it's a start. He'll ask you properly just as soon as he knows you enjoy being kissed by him, he decides.

"Ice cream?" Roan asks you desperately.

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish I could. We'll go again soon, okay? That was really fun, watching them scoop the ice cream together. I loved that."

"Please?" Roan asks.

You throw Eddie a save-me look.

"Big candy tonight, and then maybe we can get ice cream another day," he suggests. "We gotta go home to make sure Rufus ate his chicken, remember?"

"Will you come?" Roan asks you. Her voice wavers with a hopefulness that breaks Eddie's heart, honest to God.

She just wants to be loved by you. She adores you. She has from the very moment you met, how you'd fawned at her, called her pretty, she chases that feeling almost like Eddie chases your attentions.

He looks at you and he thinks, Fuck, she's good. Pretty, absolutely. Earnest? To a fault. His track record for reading people's intentions is awful, but he believes without a shadow of a doubt that you're someone worth fighting for.

He decides to lay it on thick. More is more with you.

"Y/N can't come with us tonight, baby, she has things to do. See how pretty she looks? She has somewhere she needs to go tonight."

You fluster visibly, managing to follow his white lie by the skin of your teeth. "I'm sorry, I do have somewhere I need to go. But I'm just so excited to hang out with you and daddy again like we did last week, I had lots of fun."

"And she'll dress like a princess again next time, yeah?" Eddie adds encouragingly.

"I will," you say.

He was supposed to meet you at a nice restaurant for dinner when his sitter cancelled on him last minute. Without qualm, you'd grabbed a bag of Chinese takeout and arrived at the trailer, everything about you working to drop his jaw clean out. Your hair, your split skirt, the way you'd taken Roan into your lap and fanned her face with a fabric fan and cood as her baby hairs blew in the breeze. Princess is the exact right word for how you'd been.

Eddie has more than a crush's worth of affection for you. He's kind of crazy about you, actually. Roan is the same.

"A princess?" she asks.

You nod slowly. "I swear. If you want, I can bring over a little bit of my makeup and we can match. Does that sound okay, dad?"

He's thankful for you turning the authority over to him. It makes it much easier to convince Roan to do as he asks tonight without a tantrum.

"Sounds perfect."

"Okay. Can I give you a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye?" you ask an ecstatic Roan.

She lifts her head for kissing. You brush her hair from her face and peck her round cheek as she begins the process of detangling herself from your torso.

You groan as you stand from a crouch and pick your basket up again. His jaw tenses of its own accord, your perfume sudden and encompassing as you step forward to say goodbye to him.

"I'll see you on Friday, yes?" you ask, face craned upward ever so slightly.

He's not sure he can wait that long. "Yeah, I'll call you?"

"Tonight?" you ask.

"Yeah, tonight. Whenever you want."

"I want tonight, if that's okay," you say.

Eddie squeezes your arm. He thinks it's a lame move until your smile somehow grows. "I'll call you as soon as I get home."

You nod, pleased. With a sweet goodbye wave to Roan, and a kiss so quick to his cheek that he's left wondering if he dreamed it, you and your basket dissappear around the corner toward the checkout.

Roan looks up at him. Eddie grins. "She's nice, right?"

"I love her," Roan says sagely. It's the same way that she says she loves cinnamon crunch cereal or her Dotty Dolly dolls, Eddie thinks, but it could easily turn to the same love she shows her Aunt Robin or numerous Uncles.

Hell, if you're as golden as you seem, Eddie would want her to love you as she loves Wayne, even as she loves Eddie himself. But that's miles down the line and much too much to be thinking about before a first kiss. (A proper one, and not a goodbye one, that is.)

His cheek warm from your lips, Eddie feels suddenly reinvigorated. He shifts the basket into the crook of his elbow and swoops Roan into his arms with the gusto of a stronger man.

"I like her, too," Eddie says. "I love you most of all. Forget one bag of candy, bubby, let's get three."

Roan pulls at his shirt collar mindlessly, "Three of the– of the big ones, daddy?"

"Yep. Three big ones all for me and you."

His love for her is a whole lot bigger than three bags of candy, but it's a start.

They make their way to the candy aisle. Roan recounts your appearance in clumsy wording, though lately she seems to be learning at a pace he can't keep up with. Every day she uses words he didn't know she knew, and better than that, her sentences have begun to stretch. Talking to her is the best way to move that along, so when she asks Eddie what he likes most about you, he talks for twenty whole minutes.

739 notes · View notes

feyhunter78 · 2 months ago

Note

Can’t wait for my got rewatch with this weather <3 can’t wait for Jon fic

Oooo lucky it's still warm where I'm at, but hopefully we'll get fall weather soon. Enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen - The war has ended, and you must journey home to Casterly Rock, a new future awaiting you.

King Stannis has a firm hand, and an iron will, with eyes akin to a hawk. Any semblance of grief for those pronounced traitors is frowned upon, and in your precarious position—half traitor, half honorable—you cannot risk his displeasure falling upon you, so you pretend.

You do not wear black, nor grey, nor crimson, you wear the green and pink of your mother’s house, the purple, and white of Jon’s, and you smile. Smile for the court, for the King, for Tommen, for Margaery, and in truth it was beginning to help. The pain lessening as your father swept you up into wedding plans, into tales of how Casterly Rock would change once you both had taken your rightful places within it.

Then House Stark left, taking with them Tommen and Margaery. Tommen held back his tears; Margaery smiled so brightly she outshone the sun but you? You felt the cold chill of fear, of grief creeping up, overtaking your lungs and heart until you felt half dead.

You are devoid of feeling, of light, of life, ashen and hollow as you sit staring listlessly out the window as the wheelhouse travels down The Gold Road. Your cheeks are wet with tears, tears that slip unbidden, dotting your violet skirts like stars.

Myrcella’s letter, written in a shaky hand, the tearstained ink running into the corners, lays open in your outstretched hand. How can you grieve when you have not lost what she has? Your father still lives, your standing, your reputation is intact, you will inherit the Lannister seat, and Myrcella? Sweet Myrcella is confined to Dorne, a bastard born of incest, with no standings, no prospects in the eyes of the kingdoms.

You wish to call her home, to bring her safely into the arms of her family, but it is safer in Dorne. Trystane does love her deeply, truly, and she is happy. You will not take that remaining happiness from her, even if it would soothe your wounded soul.

“Y/N, I know you are hurting, as am I, but we must put our grief aside.” Your father says softly from his seat across from you. He is dressed finely, all crimson and gold, your grandsire’s signet ring on his finger.

“Why, why must I put it aside? Nearly all who I care for have been taken from me. Uncle Jaime, Myrcella, Tommen, Margaery, Aunt Cersei, Uncle Robert, Grandsire, who next will they take? You? Jon? Will they wait until I have a babe and tear him from my arms like they did to poor Queen Elia?”

Your father leans forward in his seat, placing a hand on your knee. “The Baratheons are not the cause of our sorrow.”

You shoot him a look.

He snorts. “They are not the cause of all our sorrow, your aunt and uncle made their own choices, Myrcella is safe, Tommen is spared, Margaery is happy, and no one will take Jon or I from you.”

You shake your head, drawing your arms around yourself and holding tightly. “You cannot know that. What if the king changes his mind?”

“Then I shall leave Kevan in charge, and we will flee to Essos. Become notorious for throwing extravagant parties, or perhaps we shall meet up with the blossoming dragon queen and help her retake her throne.” He shrugs.

You shed your grief like a snake, sitting up at his words. He cannot mean… “What?”

He smiles. “Truly, you did not think I would let our blood be spilled for naught?”

Your father squeezes your knee, casting his gaze towards the window, Casterly Rock stands tall on the horizon.

You follow it, watching as the golden rays of the sun radiate out from behind it, bathing the land below in a warm glow. “I thought she was a rumor, or at the very least not a threat?”

“Varys thought otherwise, Seven rest his soul, and I have seen her with my own eyes, she will be quite formidable in the time to come.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat and picking up a sugar dusted pastry.

You lean back as well, wiping the remaining tears from your face. Daenerys Targaryen, alive, and in possession of dragons… “Thank the gods Jon is not Rhaegar’s bastard, surely she would wish to marry him and consolidate their claims.” You remark, twisting your ring, the very one Jon gave you, the only piece of his mother he had. “I do not think I would survive dragonfire.”

Your father shivers and shakes his head. “Let us not speak of such things, instead we must turn our minds towards our people. They will be confused and frightened, we must establish order swiftly and calmly.”

You nod and reach for one of the pastries as well. Food had tasted naught but ash since the executions, but as you bite into the flaky crust—the sweetness of sugar paired perfectly with the tang of rhubarb—satisfaction brings a smile to your face. A Lannister always pays their debts.

As your father sets off parading through the streets—tossing gold to the smallfolk from atop his horse—you take Jon by the hand and make your way to the Lion’s Mouth, striding forward, eyes set straight ahead as they carry the coffins of your family in as well. Your uncle will be laid to rest in the Hall of Heroes, your grandsire and aunt joining the other Lannisters of past.

“Come, we must go up several floors to reach the Lannister quarters.” You tell Jon, leading him up the winding stairs you have not climbed since you were a child.

The stairs and walls are carved from the rock, refined and draped with white marble, red rock you still cannot identify running through the center, a never-ending path. Sconces of gold sit equidistant on the walls, banners, side tables, vases, and statues, room after room decorated lavishly. You and Jon take turn after turn, as they climb up, up, up to the quarters that housed your family for generations.

“I think I shall need a map if I ever venture these halls without you.” He chuckles, eyes wide as he takes in the grandiosity of your ancestral home.

“Why would you ever go anywhere without me?” You ask, half teasing, and half afraid, clinging to him at the very thought.

Jon looks down at you. He is dashing in his finery, his dark curls neat, his beard trimmed, his sword at his side, and his eyes brimming with concern. “Y/N, I swore to you that we would never be parted, do not tell me your faith has wavered now?”

You shake your head, you will not cry, you will not cry, there are so few true lions left in the world, you cannot cry. “No, never.”

He stops and turns towards you, raising your chin with a calloused finger. “Even Queen Visenya feared attempting to take The Rock, you are safe. We are safe.”

You meet his gaze. “I know.”

“King Stannis has sound council, my uncle ensured that.” He continues, his other hand resting on the small of your back, anchoring you.

“I know.”

“Even the Red Viper will soon join them, and if he finds the king lacking, I am sure he will see the end of his reign.” He gives you a wicked smile, one that makes your stomach flip. Have you corrupted him so that the idea of regicide excites him, or is he attempting to ease your fears by making light of the situation?

“I know.” You whisper, taking hold of Jon’s doublet.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, then places his hand atop yours. “All will be well.”

You nod and bask in his presence for a moment. He has been so patient, so kind as you grieved, sitting by your bedside as you sobbed, holding you tightly as you watched Tommen and Margaery wave goodbye.

“Do you wish to show me your childhood quarters, or shall we claim our own from the multitude of empty rooms?” Jon asks, drawing you out of your memories.

“Let us see the empty rooms, there will be time enough to reminisce once my father returns.” You say, smiling as Jon pulls you towards the first open door.

It has been half a year since you sought the safety and comfort of Casterly Rock, your father taking his place as Lord Paramount and the realm settling from war. Though many have just begun to find their way back to their daily lives, it seemed none were quite too put out by being called to The Rock for your wedding.

You stand, hands clasped in Jon’s, your maiden cloak, a shimmering thing of beauty, waves of crimson, a roaring lion with emeralds for eyes, and diamond encrusted claws standing tall, uncowed by the war. Nor by the cold glare of Queen Selyse, or by the scoffs of those who still believed your family should have been stripped of its position and power.

You drown out the septon’s words, they mean little to Jon, and while they mean much in the eyes of the realm. The night prior, you, and he had snuck out to the Stone Garden and gathered beneath the weirwood tree. It was a private ceremony, a Northern ceremony performed by his uncle, his cousin Robb at his side. Your own cousin Myrcella at yours.

Jon’s voice blends with yours as you pledge your undying love, undying devotion, none shall tear you asunder. Jon had all but made these vows to you the day he became your sworn sword, though you had not known it then.

The bridal cloak that had been sent from Starfell is radiant. A shining, shooting star made of thousands of tiny diamonds that caught the light as you moved, embroidered onto rich purple cloth. Jon smiles as he clasps it around you, then without prompting captures your lips in an eager kiss.

The gathered crowd begins to murmur, your father snorts, and you can hear the septon clear his throat pointedly.

“Apologies.” Jon says, looking quite unapologetic, a roguish gleam in his eyes.

Your heart skips a beat, and a giddy giggle rises up, tampered only by the pursing of your lips as you attempt to keep the sound in.

“Lady Y/N Lannister and Lord Jon Dayne are forever bound.” The septon announces, raising his arms to the sky, before dismissing you and Jon.

Jon takes your hand and leads you down the aisle of the sept, grinning like a fool, and you fear you are doing the same.

You stop him before he bypasses the king and queen, dropping into a curtsy. “My King, My Queen, we are honored you would make the journey to witness our marriage.”

King Stannis claps Jon on the shoulder. “Do your duty well, Lord Dayne.”

Queen Selyse gives you a strange look, tilting her head in such a way it makes you feel like prey, then turns her eyes to Jon. “Yes, we would not want a repeat of the previous Lannister folly.”

Your eyes widen a fraction, but you keep your expression neutral, and reply, “My Queen, you have no need to worry, the king himself has put an end to those who acted in such a vile way, their actions will not travel downstream.” Which is far politer than I do not even have a brother, who would I cuckhold Jon with? Have the years you spent wasting away on Dragonstone made you an idiot? How dare you insult me in my home, on my wedding day.

King Stannis only nods and turns his wife away from you and Jon, looking to greet another vassal.

Jon’s grip on your hand tightens, and he leads you out of the sept towards the Great Hall.

“Do not say a word.” You urge softly, knowing what sits on the edge of his tongue. “Not until the king and queen have gone.”

Jon’s jaw is clenched, a muscle twitching, his shoulders thrown back in a defensive posture. “It was not your father who did such things.”

You glance at the surge of people following after you, heading for the banquet. “Come Husband, let us put all that unpleasantness behind us, and enjoy the feast.” You raise the volume of your voice near the end, and those around cheer in response.

You smile as you rest your chin in your hand, watching as Jon dances with Sansa, her flamekissed hair glowing in the candlelight. She laughs as Jon spins her, and soon she is replaced by Arya who promptly steps on his toes. You feel it was a purposeful act, as the young girl has grown to be quite graceful after her many lessons in waterdancing.

Across the floor is your father laughing with your Great Uncle Kevan, while your good-father steals Myrcella away from Trystane and spins her. Her pale pink dress flares out as she spins, her hands outstretched towards Trystane who snatches her back in an instant.

“Lady Lannister, do you mind if I sit?” A woman’s voice, one you are not familiar with, a slightly exotic accent, perhaps one of the Free Cities, but you could not be sure.

You look up at her, she is stunningly beautiful, with violet eyes, and light brown hair swept up with a net of gold and rubies, two strands dangling free and framing her face. “Of course, Lady…?”

“Naharis.” She supplies, gracefully taking the empty seat beside you and folding her hands in her lap.

“Lady Naharis,” you test out the name on your tongue, “is that Tyroshi?”

She nods and observes the dancers. “It is.”

“Well, then you have traveled quite far to attend a wedding.” You say, taking a small sip of your wine.

“Your father believed it would be good for me. To see the joy in Westeros.” Her eyes flit from person to person, never settling, her pale fingers tap, tap, tapping on the table.

“My father asked you to come? I was not aware he knew many Tyroshi people...” You watch her carefully; she is dressed in finery, but there is a practicality to her clothing, and a raw presence that sets you on edge. “It is odd, though, that he made no mention, I believed I knew the names of all who would be in attendance tonight.”

She turns to you, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “My apologies, I did not wish to cause you distress on such a joyous night.”

You shake your head, donning your Lannister mask and smiling radiantly. “Not at all, the more, the merrier.” Then you lean in conspiratorially. “Though if you are his new mistress, you must say so. He usually keeps them hidden from me, so he must hold you in high esteem.”

She laughs, and it is musical and entrancing, however abrupt it may be, surprise clear in her expression. “Lady y/n, I can assure you I am no such thing.” She glances back towards a particular pair of dancers, and your hackles raise. Jon, she is looking at Jon. “I am merely a friend.”

“I see.”

“He has been assisting me in my quest to reclaim my family’s seat.” She says evenly, smoothing out her skirts, a silver ring on her hand catching the light, a three-headed dragon curled possessively.

You set your goblet down and stand, your stomach churning. Did your father invite the dragon queen here? What were they planning? “You must excuse me, Lady Naharis, I do believe my husband promised me the next dance. I pray you enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

She gives you a small smile. “Thank you, Lady Lannister, I pray you do as well.”

You bow your head ever so slightly and make your way through the crowd, grabbing Jon’s arm, you had told him what your father alluded to in the wheelhouse, but that had been ages ago. Neither of you expected her to attend your wedding. “Jon, I must speak with you.”

“Y/N, come, we must speak.” Your father says, grabbing your free hand at the same time your hand reaches Jon.

You look at your father, and Jon looks at you. “Father, I do not know what you have planned, but this is my weddi—"

“Is it time for the bedding!” Some drunken fool cries out, and soon others take up the call, the crowd surging around you as you are ripped from Jon and your father.

He promised, your father promised there would not be a bedding.

You elbow the nearest man, and shove another set of hands off you, fighting against the tide. Their faces are distorted in your panic, their eyes glazed with drunkenness, their jeers growing louder and louder.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @nymeriiiia, @burkgolden, @drewsivy

#meg's writing #thanks for the ask!#jon snow x reader #jon snow x y/n #jon snow x you #jon snow imagines #lannister!reader #Jon Dayne

45 notes · View notes

stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage · 6 months ago

Note

You ever think about how in spite of knowing their exact locations, the game never gives any indication that templar Carver has reported his mage sibling, Merril (a blood mage) or Anders (an abomination) to his superiors?

I do think about that a lot, even though I tend to ignore the Templar Carver route because I know Warden Carver to be true in my heart and soul... but I totally get the appeal of Templar Carver within DA2's narrative, y'know?

It's so fascinating, really. I've never played a run with Templar Carver, I just can't bring myself to do it, so I know I'm missing out on smaller details of it. From what I do know, this drives me crazy in the best way possible.

Deciding whether to bring him or not to the Deep Roads is such an important choice, not only because it affects his fate, but how it affects his relationship to Hawke. He tells you that he wants to go, he makes it very clear that it's important to him that he goes, too... and Hawke can just leave him behind and it hurts him. I don't think that registers enough with some people just because of how Carver is, like it doesn't matter what Hawke's motivations are [staying behind for his safety, not wanting to bring him, thinking someone should stay with Leandra, etc] it still hurts him because it tells him that Hawke doesn't need him, and Carver wants to be needed.

And yes, there are other contributing factors to why he joins the templars, but it doesn't matter what your relationship is to him, it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't turn Hawke or his companions in.

Sure, the meta reason is it's a video game and you're playing the main character. You're never in any actual danger of being captured by templars, and you're not going to lose your companions to them that easy.

But if we look at it through the narrative and Carver's character, that's when it gets interesting. You can max out his rivalry and be an utter asshole to him [there's a point where you can call him a brat and mock him for being stuck in your shadow, like Hawke can be real cruel about it] but it doesn't matter, you're still his sibling. He even makes a remark about how you might not know what that means [referring to leaving him behind] but he does. He refuses to kill Hawke in the end when Meredith makes the order, too.

Which can I just point out that Hawke has the option to let Bethany die in the end if she's with the circle and they side with the templars? Just saying, Carver NEVER does that no matter what, but Hawke has the option to betray Bethany like that and it's fucked and interesting and it makes me want to eat my chair-

As for Merrill and Anders, I think he knows that if he turns either of them in, then the chances of Hawke being brought in as well skyrocket. They're all friends, they're in the same group... bring one in, and you'll probably get the other two.

I also think Carver just genuinely likes Merrill. Yes, I'm a Carver/Merrill shipper, so I have a bias, but even if you remove anything romantic from their dynamic I believe that's true. Of all the companions, Merrill is the only one who doesn't make fun of him, or find him annoying, in party banters. He never snaps back at her, like he's never defensive with her, he's just a little awkward and nice.

Like, HE'S SO NICE TO HER! He tries to find common ground with her! She asks him about "swording" and he's taken aback by her saying he's good at it, but you KNOW that if someone like Anders asked him the same question, he's be all, "shut up, you're stupid, stop talking to me >:["

Think back to that banter Carver can have with Aveline post-act 1 where they're talking about how the guard wasn't the right place for him [hard disagree with you there, Aveline] and Carver says he was a bit of a tit, wasn't he.... and every companion will agree except Merrill. She doesn't say anything, whereas other companions like Anders will be like "ugh maker YES" and if you have a purple Hawke, they'll go on to other ways Carver was a tit like?? I think Carver and Merrill got along and he doesn't want to turn her in because she was nice to him! And she's a blood mage! He knows what will happen to her if the templars get ahold of her! He doesn't want to see her made tranquil or killed!

At that point, he's witnessed what bad blood mages can do, assuming you've brought him along for those quests, but even so. He knows Merrill isn't like that and he likes her, so of course he's not going to turn her in despite that being his literal duty.

Then there's Anders who Carver doesn't like. If you're in a romance with him, Carver will tell him that's why he doesn't turn him in but c'mon Carver, you know that's not the only reason. My theory is Carver may not like Anders and he knows the man's got a spirit of justice inside of him... but Anders also runs a free clinic. If he's ever taken in by templars, then so many people [including a LOT of Fereldan refugees] will be without free health care and will suffer for it. I think in Carver's eyes, Anders might be irritating but he doesn't more good than harm. Carver knows first hand how shitty refugees and poorer people are treated in Kirkwall. Anders' clinic is the one place they can go for help and actually get it, and he's not going to be the one to take that away because the templars say "magic bad."

So yeah, I'm not as informed about the Templar Carver route, but I do think about how if I did do that route, he wouldn't betray Hawke or their companions no matter what and what that says about him.

#asks #dragon age 2 #da2 #carver hawke #da2 merrill #da2 anders #listen i love carver hawke okay he and bethany are my favorite companions in da2 #i could talk endlessly about the twins and their roles in story and how unfair it is that only one of them can make it to kirkwall #meaning we hardly get to see them interact with each other before one dies and UGH #like i get it their stories rely heavily on them being the only mage or non-mage in the sibling trio so both of them living #would've meant writing two different origins stories for them with different attitudes affected by having another siblings that like them #but also i think if hawke's a rogue then leandra should've died and we could've worked it out okay #ANYWAY... templar carver amirite? i know i should go that route just to say i have and to see it for myself but hhhnnnggggg...#it physically pains me to think of not bringing him to the deep roads though it's so important to him and my hawke works so hard #to repair his relationship with his brother okay i max out carver's friendship every time and it's so worth it #you don't understand okay friendship carver is the best he's so goddamn sweet i can't handle it #it's actually so interesting how bethany and carver start out versus how they end because bethany starts out as the super sweet one #whereas carver's surly and bitter... but past act 1? it's like they flip?? at least on the warden paths like bethany is BRUTAL #she's so fucking bitter and rude and I love it?? like her relationship with hawke is in the trenches whereas carver's is vastly improved #again no matter your approval with him when you reunite in act 2 he will ALWAYS tell hawke that 'i'm sure you did your best'#referring to leandra's death but bethany's response will change depending on your approval with her #and if i remember right the rivalry response is OOF #carver and bethany turn me into a little giggling gremlin i love them so much

75 notes · View notes