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delusionalfanficwriter · 8 months ago

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forgive me

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned the key in the lock, the anticipation of finally being home after what felt like an eternity abroad making my hands tremble. I had missed Leah desperately during my time away, longing for her comforting presence after I missed the possibly winning penalty for the USWNT. But now, as I stepped inside our apartment, that longing turned to dread.

The soft glow of lamplight illuminated the living room, casting eerie shadows against the walls. And there, on the couch, lay Leah, wrapped in the arms of another woman. My stomach dropped as the scene before me registered, the shock and disbelief hitting me like a tidal wave.

I wanted to scream, to demand answers, to tear apart the fabric of reality until this nightmare dissolved into nothingness. But all I could do was stand there, frozen in place, my heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

Leah's eyes met mine, a fleeting expression of surprise and guilt flickering across her features before she spoke. "Y/n, I can explain," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

She quickly got up from the couch in her panties and long t-shirt while the other woman I did not recognize gathered her belongings and ran out without hesitation.

I didn’t respond and as Leah took another step towards me, I took one back, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Say something, y/n. Please. I know I fucked up, but I can explain.”

I block out her words and just stare at her, tears filling my eyes as my heart breaks every second I stand there. I take a shaky breath before saying, “I am going to pack a bag and go.” She goes to argue but I shake my head and interrupt, “Leah, you need to let me go.”

Leah's face crumpled in anguish as my words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them pressing down on us both like a suffocating blanket. She reached out to me, her hands trembling with desperation, but I recoiled from her touch, unable to bear the thought of her hands on me after what I had just witnessed.

"No," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "Please, y/n, don't do this. I love you, I swear, I never meant to hurt you."

Her words cut through me like a knife, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal. I wanted to believe her, wanted to cling to the illusion of love and happiness we had shared, but the reality of her betrayal loomed large in the space between us, an insurmountable barrier that threatened to swallow us whole.

"I can't do this anymore, Leah," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "You've hurt me in ways I never thought possible. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you."

Leah's eyes brimmed with tears as she reached out to me again, her desperation palpable in the air. She knew how hard I worked in my self-confidence but this just took the biggest blow to it. "Don’t for a second think you are not enough, y/n. I’m the problem. Please, y/n, give me another chance. I'll do anything to make this right, anything to prove to you that I love you."

But I shook my head, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. "It's too late for that, Leah. You've broken my trust. I can't just forgive and forget."

I ignore her as she begs for forgiveness while I head to our room to grab a few extra items as I already have a suitcase filled because of my trip with the national team.

As I hastily packed my belongings, Leah's pleas echoed in my mind, each word a painful reminder of the love we once shared.

Leah followed me into the bedroom, her footsteps hesitant as if she were treading on thin ice. "Please, y/n," she implored, her voice choked with tears. "Don't leave like this. We can work through this together, I promise."

Her words stirred a flicker of doubt within me, a small voice whispering that perhaps forgiveness was possible. But as I looked into her eyes, I saw not just remorse, but a deeper struggle, a fundamental flaw in our relationship that could not be easily mended.

"I need some space, Leah," I said, my voice firm despite the tremors of uncertainty coursing through me. "I need time to figure things out on my own."

Leah's shoulders slumped in defeat, her gaze falling to the floor as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I understand," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of my racing heart. With a heavy heart, I zipped up my bag. As I made my way to the door, Leah's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Y/n, wait," she said, her voice wavering with emotion. "Just know that I'll always love you, no matter what."

I let the tears I have been holding back drop silently as I look her in her eyes one more time. I love her so much but obviously I am not providing enough if she’s seeking more elsewhere.

I get into my car and drive around aimlessly before arriving at Katie McCabe's place, seeking refuge in the familiarity of her warm embrace, she immediately sensed something was amiss. Concern etched across her features as she ushered me inside, her voice laced with worry.

"Y/n, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Katie exclaimed, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of explanation.

I managed a weak smile, attempting to mask the turmoil raging within me. "It's nothing, Katie. Just... a rough day."

But Katie wasn't easily fooled. She took my hand gently, her touch grounding me amidst the chaos of my emotions. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm here for you, no matter what."

I hesitated, the weight of my unspoken truth threatening to suffocate me. But as I looked into Katie's compassionate gaze, I knew I couldn't bear to burden her with the tangled mess of my heartache.

"It's complicated," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't want to talk about it."

Katie's brow furrowed in concern, her instincts urging her to push further. "Is it Leah?" she asked softly, her words hanging heavy in the air.

I flinched at the mention of her name, the pain of betrayal still fresh in my mind. But I couldn't bring myself to tarnish Leah's name, not when the love I once felt for her still lingered like a ghost in the recesses of my heart.

"I can't," I choked out, tears threatening to spill over. "I can't do that to her. I still love her, Katie. I can't bear the thought of anyone hating her."

Katie's expression softened with understanding as she wrapped me in a comforting embrace, her presence a soothing balm to my shattered soul. "You don't have to say anything you're not ready to, y/n," she murmured, her words a whispered promise of unwavering support.

…………. ……….. ………… ………….

As the days passed, life seemed to go on as usual. I returned to my routine, throwing myself into training with the Arsenal team, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Despite my efforts to appear unaffected, the tension between Leah and me was palpable, a silent rift that threatened to tear us apart.

At practice, the atmosphere was strained, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. My teammates exchanged knowing glances, their curiosity piqued by the unspoken tension between Leah and me.

Leah, ever persistent, continued to plead for forgiveness, her desperation evident in every fleeting glance and tentative touch. But I remained steadfast in my resolve, refusing to entertain the possibility of reconciliation until I had fully come to terms with the betrayal that had shattered my trust.

As we gathered on the field, preparing for another grueling session, Leah approached me tentatively, her eyes brimming with remorse. "Y/n, please," she whispered, her voice pleading. "We need to talk. I can't bear this distance between us any longer."

I shook my head, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. "Not now, Leah," I replied, my voice firm despite the turmoil raging within me. "I need time to process everything that's happened."

“Please, y/n. I can see you training extra hard just to avoid thinking about this. Please, I don't want to see you hurting.”

“You did that, amore. You hurt me. I knew I wasn’t enough and you reassured me countless times I was. I was stupid to believe you… that I was enough for you.” I whisper before walking away.

“Y/n, wait! At least tell me why no one else knows? I was expected to get some lash back from the gals.” She grabs my arm before I face her once more.

“Despite all you have done, and might think, I still love you.”

As Leah and I stood on the training field in our emotional exchange, a voice interrupted from the sidelines, cutting through the weighty atmosphere with unexpected levity.

"Well, whatever Leah did, it must be forgivable if she's still alive," came a joking remark from one of our teammates, interrupting the solemn moment with a touch of humor.

I turned to see Alessia smirking playfully as she approached us, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Despite the seriousness of the situation, her lighthearted comment momentarily lifted the heaviness that had settled over us.

"Seriously, y/n," Alessia continued, nudging me gently with her elbow. "You must be a saint to consider forgiving whatever she did. I mean, I can barely forgive her for stealing my snacks, let alone whatever this is."

A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips, the tension easing slightly under the unexpected reprieve of humor. "Trust me, Alessia," I replied, my tone light despite the lingering ache in my heart. "It's going to take a lot more than snacks to make things right."

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #uswnt fanfic #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader

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carmesi-butterfly · 1 year ago

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kiss me and bite me

vampire nishimura riki + female human reader. word count 1,8k. vampire au/fantasy au. warnings mention of illness and death. not proofread.

"Riki..." you murmured, the hard breathing leaving your mouth was accompanied by the soft wind, both sounds making a pleasing melody for the youthful boy, who was enchanted by you.

"Hm? What?" responded, leaving the panorama of the clear sky to look at you with curiosity, only to stumble upon your eyes shedding a few tears. "Are you okay? Why are you crying?" his body moved fast, leaving his spot where his figure lay down on the grass to reach near your body, now your faces were just a few centimeters distant from each and the closeness between your forms created a more comforting aura, appropriate for the two young lovers.

A few more tears left your eyes before you could reply, "I'm afraid of what's going to happen in the future…" your words unleashed an unstoppable sobbing by your side, leaving your lover confused for a second. After a few sobs, you took a deep breath, in an attempt to clear your throat and mind, the words stood clear in your heart searching for being released. "I'm not recovering, Riki, I'm just getting worse" you cried, "the doctor visited me yesterday… he did not tell me anything but I spied on him talking with my parents, my health is just declining and it would be a miracle for me to last long from now on" you broke the news for the boy who seemed impacted by your words.

"What are you saying…" The boy broke the silence, filled with confusion and anguish.

"I'm losing my strength, I'm tired. Soon I won't be able to get out of bed, I will lose my senses, and probably it won't take much for me to be completely worthless" Your clarifications developed more than an ache in his heart, it felt like being stabbed on the chest over and over again.

If being a vampire implied that things as such strong emotions could not be felt, why did his soul hurt this much? He felt like dying, perhaps the sin of love could kill an immortal spirit.

His body distanced from yours, not simply cutting all physical contact but also creating more distance between the two of you, getting up on his feet and looking at you from above with an indecipherable gaze.

"No… Are you going to give up this easily?!" his words hurt, from the bottom to the top of you being you were also hurting, and even though you cried incessantly, Riki didn't notice.

"I'm dying! What do you want me to do?!" your voice reciprocated his, increasing itself trying to show all the feelings it holds. "You would never understand it, because you can't die!" your body followed him, standing up from the grass to confront the situation, "you don't conceive the idea of death, because it's not something meant for you to experiment. You will never pass through the illness, your friends or family will never die, and you will never understand what is to perish in this agony" The discussion escalated quickly, reaching its end at the same peace. The things you said defined the end of this senseless conversation and for Nishimura Riki, your words didn't feel like stabs anymore, the heartache remained and his feelings got hurt, but this was the reality hit he needed.

"I know I'm being selfish…" As an abrupt act, he got on his knees desperately hugging your legs and clinging to the end of your dress, holding as if his endless life depended on it. "But I don't want you to die, please, let me help you… I c-can turn you into a vampire" Big tears ran away from his eyes, and the sobs impeded the words from coming out properly, "I know you don't want this, but please, please… I can't live without you…" you could notice a ramble was coming, about all the reasons you had to accept the proposal and how it would benefit all of you.

"How would you do that?..." your weak whisper could be hardly heard by your lover, whose ears were plagued by his cry.

The question made his body react, his head raised leaving its spot on your legs. "I can turn you into a vampire, I just need to bite you, we can do it right now if you want!" Riki rapidly got up, his hands holding your shoulders excited.

"But… What am I going to tell my parents?" The idea of becoming a vampire crossed your mind more than twice, all these thoughts generated by the presence of the youthful Nishimura who appeared in your life unexpectedly and changed the perspective of your life as a normal person in a small town.

"U-uhm… They don't have to know" he said, without giving it a second thought.

"Yes, it's a good idea because they are not going to notice that I'm not dying anymore, furthermore that I'm not getting old" Your sarcastic reply got him out of the fantasy cloud he had the opportunity to stay in for a few seconds.

"You're right, then… I will tell them! No parent wants to lose their daughter, and even if they are against the idea, we can run away together" Both pairs of hands connected, intertwining their fingers looking for more contact. "I have my family and my friends to help us! Jungwon was converted by Jay, it's secure to ask them about it"

The course of the actions being so sudden didn't help your already blurred mind, your disease has been part of you and your current life for most of it, always having hope about successfully evading the so-frightening called death, and the show up of your couple finished wrecking what lasted of your sanity. How could life be so cruel? Assembling two opposite individuals to fall into something so deep as love, the first one; was a vampire, a fortunate specimen blessed by nature, who didn't have to worry about the expected loss of life. And the second one; a poor human, the dangers of the surroundings being enough for such a weak personage.

Between your relationship was a line, an invisible border that could only be crossed by the weakest one and possibly now was about to fade.

"I don't want to die" Your lips dropped, maintaining that low tone you used before, full of fear and worry, "Let's do it, Riki"

And then, under the shadow of a big weeping willow, the connection between both bodies becomes stronger, your lips fused in an act of pure love after a few minutes of discussion that felt like an eternity.

When the sun went down and the secretive night welcomed everything that reached its perimeter, the figure of your loved one could be seen from your window, stealthily letting himself into your room.

"Psst, hey y/n, wake up" With light footsteps, he moved closer to your bed, where you lay comfortably while sleeping.

"Hm?" Your eyes opened slowly, trying to adapt to the nonexistent light in the space, "Riki? What are you doing here?" asked while changing your position, taking a seat on the mattress and patting softly on your side inviting him to do the same.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait anymore" Imitating your action he got comfortable on your side, talking with the lowest tone he could manage to, "I spoke with my mom about this, she was a little… concerned? But in the end, she permitted me to do it" said with his characteristic big smile. "I also talked with Jay and Jungwon, the conversion should be something easy, just a bite"

"Okay, we should do it now then?", you offered, "Mom and Dad, they… we can tell them later" Searching for contact in this moment of nerves, your hands reached his. His head nodded in response, "But wait!" your voice raised, luckily not enough to be noticeable by the other people in the house, "First, kiss me"

"Why? Do you need me that much?" The boy asked playfully, teasing you up a little bit.

"I want comfort, I'm about to be bitten you know? What if this turns out wrong and we can't kiss anymore? Of course, kissing is not the only problem, what if I die? Or end up defective? I may be immune-" a verbal vomit built by anxiety came out of your mouth, only being stopped by your boyfriend, who placed a peck on your lips.

"You don't have to worry, I'm not an idiot to do it wrong," said, with a jolly smirk and a bit of an "arrogant" manner, nothing new to see on the young Nishimura.

"Okay, let's do it…" With that the conversation ended and the so-called conversion ritual began.

Riki didn't want to bite your neck, not simply for being a pretty visible zone but also because he did not want to inflict you more pain than the one you're already passing through, evidently, something like sinking his teeth into her lover's skin wouldn't be painless, but if he can avoid generating her additional pain than the needed, that's okay. Your arm was grabbed so softly and delicately, the tact being so gentle that you could feel like he was holding a porcelain doll, both hands pressed smoothly in your extremity, finding the perfect spot.

"Should I count to three? Maybe it will help" suggested by pure courtesy, his body positioned and mouth near your upper limb waiting for you to give the green light.

"Please," you responded, accompanied by a few scared nods.

"One, tw-" and then, completely omitting the countdown he suggested, sank his fangs into your left arm, drilling your skin and releasing the poison.

You barely had any time to react to the puncturing pain of two deep needles piercing your skin, it hurt so much that you felt like you were burning, groans departing your mouth, such was the case that utilizing your free hand you had to seal your lips, and then, a huge wave slam your senses, sharpening every one of them; your ears? Possessed by an incessant whistle; your tact? It was overwhelming, even the slightest fold in your clothing could be felt; and probably the most shocking one, your vision; nothing could escape your new falcon view, small details on your walls that you hadn't noticed after years of living there were now extraordinarily detailed, the presence of tiny bugs hosting on the corners of your room is now detected, everything felt clearer.

By the time he was done, you had fallen into a trance, the venom running through your veins made your body temperature increase, and an unpleasant sensation spread to your teeth focusing on the fangs, implicating that the transformation already started and soon your hunger would awaken, and as an act of love between two vampires, he could ask you to kiss and bite him.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen fluff #nishimura riki #ni ki fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #ni ki scenarios #ni ki imagines #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki x reader

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icarusignite · 3 months ago

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An Eye for an Eye Ch.4

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

"Home is the first grave, and you will always be buried here, in my heart."

Summary: In his chambers, Aemond Targaryen gazes upon his wife, the once vibrant spirit now hollowed by his hand. Her anguish tears at his conscience as he realizes the depth of her despair. She would perish in this place, her soul suffocating beneath the weight of his actions, yet he selfishly believes that even a fragment of her presence is better than nothing at all. The torment of this realization coils around him and he is forced to come to terms with the price of his need to possess what he has already shattered.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aemond Targaryen sat alone in his makeshift chambers, the weight of regret heavy on his shoulders. The room felt emptier without the presence of his lady wife, and the silence echoed the absence of her laughter and warmth that he realized he had begun to take for granted. It had been four days since he had seen her last.

His thoughts churned with self-reproach, and the memory of their last argument played out in his mind like a haunting refrain. He recognized the cruelty in his words, the callousness with which he had wounded the woman who had chosen to be his companion. She, who had always stood by him, was now misguided by his suggestion that she was a mere consolation prize, someone he settled for because he could not fathom anyone else having him, wanting him.

He had not seen her since. She refused to let anyone into her chambers, not even Helaena, and she did not take a single meal, each tray outside the door remaining untouched until one of the servants came to replace it with yet another. In fact, the only indicators that she was still alive, were the occasional sounds of things being thrown about, and the scuffle of her feet as she paced endlessly.

It did not help that the walls were paper thin and Aemond's temporary residence had been set up in the room adjacent to hers. All day, he heard both her screams and her pleas to some unknown deity, and if she got no rest, neither did he.

Even now in the dead of night, as he tried to occupy himself with the latest book he had picked up from the castle library, he could hear the unsettling cadence of hollow thuds echoing through the walls. At first, he dismissed them as the sounds of a heart heavy with sorrow and frustration, perhaps a physical manifestation of emotional turmoil.

However, as the rhythm of the banging persisted and grew more pronounced, he found it increasingly difficult to disregard the disconcerting noise. The hollow echoes seemed to reverberate through the corridors like a mournful lament, and his attempts to focus on his reading became futile as the sounds clawed at his conscience.

Then, a sudden escalation in intensity seized his attention, culminating in a terrible crash that shattered the uneasy stillness of the Red Keep. Without a second thought, he leaped from his seat, the urgency of the moment propelling him toward the source of the noise.

As he approached Daenys's door, he found one of her guarding knights struggling with the handle in vain. The guard's brow was furrowed in frustration as he hammered against the door.

"What is going on here, it is late, people are trying to rest!" Aemond snapped, impatiently.

"My prince!" the guard greeted his arrival with a nod. "Something has happened to the princess, I fear, but I can't get the door open. Something's blocking it from the inside."

Aemond, anxiety gnawing at him, took a step forward and grasped the handle, determined to overcome whatever obstacle stood between him and his wife. He exerted his strength, pushing against the door with a force born of desperation. To his surprise and frustration, the door remained resolute, as if an invisible barrier defied his attempts to breach it.

He gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. He could feel the strain in his muscles as he pushed against the door, and when the guard joined him, the door yielded under their combined strength, revealing a narrow crack that allowed glimpses into the dimly lit chamber beyond.

It was his own writing desk that served as a barricade, the heavy wooden furniture having been pushed against the door, forming an impromptu fortress.

As Aemond surveyed the scene from his vantage point, he could see the aftermath of Daenys's storm etched across his quarters. He called out her name, the desperate plea hanging in the air, but there was no response, only the haunting silence that seemed to linger like a heavy fog.

With a surge of determination, he threw himself against the door, the impact jarring his frame as he sought to create an opening. The sound of strained wood and the metallic rattle of displaced objects resounded through the corridor, and after several forceful attempts, he managed to create a gap just large enough for him to slip through.

Once inside, he surveyed the chaos that unfolded before him. Shards of broken glass crunched beneath his boots, the remnants of vases and ornaments that had met a violent end. The air was thick with the acrid scent of overturned inkwells and the remnants of scattered parchment.

The furniture bore the marks of a struggle, with overturned chairs and dishevelled bedding adding to the disarray. Aemond's eye fell upon the writing desk that had served as the barricade, now displaced and toppled. Its contents were scattered, a chaotic collage of spilled ink and crumpled pages.

The concern that gripped Aemond intensified as his gaze fell upon his window.

His broken window.

The tattered remnants of curtains hung limply from their posts, and shards of glass still clung precariously to the edges like teeth.

Like glinting cannibalistic teeth.

That was when he noticed the pale, bloody fingers desperately clinging to the ledge. A cold chill raced down his spine, and every fibre of his being urged him to rush forward.

There she was, his Daenys, a fragile silhouette against the darkness of the chamber. One hand, stained with blood and gripping the window, despite the broken glass that dug into her skin, leaving crimson traces along the ledge.

In her other hand, she clutched a makeshift rope fashioned from sheets and torn curtains. The fabric, now stained and dishevelled, dangled precariously from the window. It was a desperate lifeline, a testament to the lengths she had gone to escape. The rope was nowhere long enough to reach the bottom, and the sight of her, teetering on the edge between safety and the abyss, struck Aemond like a blow.

"Seven hells!" his voice cracked with disbelief. "What are you doing?"

She did not respond to him. In fact, it was as though she hadn't even registered his presence yet. Aemond's hands trembled as he carefully reached down, fingers outstretched, to grasp Daenys's wrists, but the moment his touch made contact, her head snapped up, and he found himself staring into bloodshot, glazed-over eyes. Her skin felt unnaturally hot, radiating feverish heat, as if her body was consumed by it.

Below her, one of his chairs lay smashed to smithereens on the stone floor below, the wood splaying out ominously as if daring the precariously dangling girl to meet a similar fate.

When he tried to pull her up, a sudden resistance met his efforts. Daenys kicked and twisted, her movements desperate with the need to escape. He expected her to scream, but not a sound escaped her chapped lips, and his grip tightened instinctively, fueled by the instinct to prevent her from slipping away. His fingers pressed into her wrists with a bruising force and in a moment of panic, she let go of the sheets she had been clinging to. The sudden release threatened to send her spiralling downward, and Aemond, reacting on pure instinct, made a split-second decision.

Without hesitation, he abandoned caution. Ignoring the glass remnants that still clung to the window ledge, he forcefully dragged her over. The leather sleeves of his riding habit protected him from the worst of it, but he winced at the sharp edges of broken glass that no doubt bit into his wife's skin, as they tumbled back together.

Still, a few cuts were better than having her skull crack open in the courtyard.

The night was far from over, however, and before the one-eyed prince had a chance to catch his breath, his wife was surging back toward the open window. Aemond, his senses heightened by adrenaline, reacted swiftly, his hands reaching out to hook around her waist before she could slip away.

In a desperate attempt to keep her away from the perilous ledge, his arm wrapped firmly around Daenys's waist, pulling her away, and positioning himself between her and the window. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her, trying to pierce through the haze of her delirium. His voice, a desperate plea tinged with anger, cut through the air as he screamed at her, demanding an explanation.

"What in seven hells is wrong with you? Were you trying to fucking die? You could have died!"

Her response was a fragmented murmur, the words barely audible as she mumbled incoherently.

"I want to go home," she whispered. "I just want to go home, please."

Still reeling from almost losing her to her own insanity, Aemond dropped his head, forehead coming to rest against Daenys's shoulder. He did it half in relief, half in guilt to avoid meeting her pleading eyes, because he did not have an answer that would satisfy her. To his surprise, she let him, holding very still as he breathed her in.

Casually, his gaze swept over her, halting in alarm when his attention was drawn to her sleeves that had ridden up in the chaos of their struggle. The pale moonlight streaming in from outside was just enough to reveal a glimpse of red, and an instinctive urgency gripped him, as he yanked her sleeves up, making her wince.

The revelation made him want to retch as he beheld the grisly sight, both her arms marred by a twisted landscape of open wounds, and if he raised them closer to examine, he swore he could make out the occasional sliver of glass embedded in the carmine carnage. They seemed too deliberate, too methodical, too angry to be accidental, the gaping and twisted maws of gore that littered her flesh.

The revelation was a visceral punch to Aemond's gut, and a sense of helplessness overwhelmed him.

She would die here. If they kept her here any longer, she would die here. The Red Keep, where she was born, the place she had once filled with the effervescence of her life, would become her grave, and he her executioner.

He gently cupped her face, searching her dull and unrecognizing eyes for some semblance of clarity, but he found none.

"Daenys, where did you go?" Aemond pleaded, his voice a raw whisper, echoing through the room. He longed for a flicker of recognition, a spark that would return her to him, even if it meant her disdain, but her eyes remained distant.

"Can I go home now?"

Before he could respond, the guard from earlier returned with a maester in tow, just as Aemond had instructed, both men looking taken aback at the sight that greeted them.

Aemond, annoyance etched across his features at the interruption, eyed the maester with a curt nod.

"Leave your things and go. I'll take care of her myself," he commanded.

The maester, having tended to the one-eyed prince since he was a boy, was well accustomed to his sullen moods. He nodded silently, placing the medical supplies he had brought with him on a nearby table before discreetly retreating from the room. His eyes, however, betrayed a sense of concern for the troubled couple he left behind, but it was not his place to pry.

The Lord Hand would, however, receive a full report from him on the morrow.

The knight, on the other hand, lingered at the threshold, casting a wary glance at them, as if hesitant to leave.

Aemond, his patience waning, barked his orders again, "Stand guard outside. She needs no further audience for her troubles."

"The princess has been delirious for a few days, I think. She repeatedly calls out for her brother, as if he is still here," the knight's eyes were downcasted as he added, "I know it isn't my place but perhaps it would do her well to go home for a little while."

"Yes, you are right. It isn't your place to concern yourself. I told you to return to your post, and I do not like repeating myself."

He watched the door close but was dismayed to find that Daenys still resisted his attempts to lead her toward the unmade bed. Her gaze remained fixated on the window, as she pointed outside like a forlorn child.

There was something tender and vulnerable in her eyes, and Aemond felt awfully protective over it. In another world, in another time, he would have offered himself up as her shield to whatever may be thrown toward her. He thought he could spend his whole life preserving her. He would have died a martyr at the feet of her holiness if she let him

But that was before he killed her. Before he ruined anything good or holy between them.

With a gentle determination, he scooped her into his arms. She offered little resistance, her body feeling weightless and fragile in his embrace. Carefully placing her on the bed, Aemond knelt before her. Daenys remained limp and unresponsive, like a marionette whose strings had been severed.

Aemond, wincing in her place every time the rag in his hand came away stained with old blood, began the delicate task of cleaning her ghastly wounds. His hands moved cautiously, each touch an attempt to alleviate her pain, but he could have pushed her arm through one of the cook's meat grinders and she would not have uttered a single word of protest, wounded bird that she was.

She seemed nothing like the dragon his grandsire had warned him about.

Less a wounded dragon, and more a dead sparrow.

Her fever was still running high and her skin burned.

A furnace or a funeral pyre.

Aemond marvelled at how she managed to keep her eyes open, the flickering flame within them a mere echo of consciousness. She was barely present, a spectre caught between the realms of consciousness and the dark respite of slumber. There were an endless number of bruises to wrap up, and a lifetime of cleaning scrapes and bruises from his own sparring sessions had done nothing to prepare him for such a task. Perhaps he should have let the maester stay after all.

His memory did him no favours tonight, reminding him of all the times she too had patched him up, her treatments always followed by stern reprimands for his safety. Such instances almost always concluded in fits of laughter, because he never could focus on her words, not when he had been too busy thinking about her lips pursed in concern and all he wanted to do was kiss away her frown.

The present felt too dark a reality in comparison.

Finally, when he was finished wrapping her arms with fresh linen, he felt her delicate fingers grab his hand, and he stilled, not wanting to startle her. His gaze locked with hers, and he found her eyes unfocused.

"Aemond," she whispered softly, the sound barely audible. The gentleness in her voice sent a shiver down his spine. Perhaps she did recognize him, but there was an uncertainty, a distance in her eyes that hinted at the possibility that she had forgotten, if only for a moment, the weight of their shared history.

She knew him, but not what he had done.

"Aemond, I want to go home. Please let me go home. I want to be with my mother."

Her voice was a hoarse rasp, akin to the scrape of metal against stone.

"Shh, don't speak," Aemond urged gently, avoiding her request completely.

Leaning up, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and her grip tugged at his arm, urging him to sit next to her. He complied almost instantaneously, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and pulling her close as he guided her head to rest against his chest.

As Daenys nestled against him, his fingers gently traced soothing patterns on her back. The silence, punctuated only by the distant echoes of the night, enveloped them like a shroud, and it was easy to pretend that he could be her anchor here. It was easier than admitting he was also the storm.

She would not be allowed to leave; his brother, his grandsire, even his own mother would never allow it, and even if he were to let her go in some burst of compassion, Aemond knew she'd never come back. A selfish part of him wanted to keep her with him forever, even if it meant only getting to hold this empty shell of her for the rest of his life. She was his; she belonged to him.

His dragon. His sparrow.

From this day, until the end of my days.

He had made vows, under the eyes of the Seven, and the whole kingdom besides.

He was almost certain that he'd never be able to let her go, even when keeping her meant killing her. It was clearly killing her now. She didn't eat, she barely slept, and she had practically bored holes into herself in her grief. Who knew how much longer she would last like this, but letting her go was not an option. Aemond knew he had started a war with the death of his nephew, but he wondered how much wrath he'd incur from his half-sister if he cost Rhaenyra her firstborn as well.

He could only hope that she would acquiesce to their terms eventually, if only for the sake of her daughter. If she was no longer a threat, then Daenys would be able to return to her mother, and then perhaps her empty eyes would not haunt him.

Still, he'd take care of her. He would move back into his chambers, and wouldn't let her out of his sight. He would not let her hurt herself anymore; she could not die. He would not allow it. She belonged to him and no one would be able to take her from him, not even the Stranger.

Daenys stirred in his arms then, a timid whimper escaping her lips as he shushed her again. It only made her start crying, burying her face in his chest. Aemond tightened his hold on her, bordering on suffocating as he stroked her hair. It reminded him of better times, when she would seek comfort in him, when he was not the source of her pain. He didn't know how long he sat there, cradling her in his lap, wanting to savour each moment because he knew once her fever cleared, she would go back to hating him.

"Aemond."

"Yes, my love?"

"I really need to go home."

"Daenys..." he warned lightly. "This is your home...with me."

"No," she insisted, "it is important. It will be Luke's name day soon. I must return to Dragonstone. What with all their betrothals as well, there will be so much to do...and Baela...she made me promise that I'd be there...she said she had...oh, I can't quite remember anymore."

After a brief pause, her soft and muddled voice broke the silence again. Aemond waited, his heart heavy with the anticipation of what her words might unveil, what she might remember. He waited for the crying to start anew, but instead, she only frowned in contemplation, as if grappling with elusive thoughts just beyond her reach.

"I don't know what present to get him," she mumbled. "I'm supposed to make him something but we all know how absolutely terrible I am at that. Joffrey's easy to please, all I have to do is give him a ride on Silverwing, but Luke's presents require more effort. Always so picky, that one. Mother coddles him too much...well, I do too, it's hard not to, you know. That was a face formed to topple kingdoms, Father used to say. No one can refuse those eyes, and that rascal uses it to his advantage every time."

Daenys giggled at the end, the melody of her brother's laughter ringing in her ears as if he'd walk through the door that very moment.

"...if you say so..."

If she noticed the way Aemond's face paled as he croaked out his words, she did not say.

"And then I need to help Mother prepare for all the weddings. Rhaena wants a spring wedding, and Mother couldn't be happier. You know how they both love the flowers. As for Jacaerys, well, I think he'd put up with being married in a barn if it meant getting to be with Baela. They're sweet that way, don't you think?"

The seemingly mundane topics hung in the air, almost comedic in their joviality. Aemond, his heart aching, nodded and hummed along, playing along with the fragments of her perceived reality.

His fingertips continued to smooth her hair away, and as she babbled on about her family, Aemond felt the fragility of her state weighing on him. Whether it was the illness talking or a self-imposed delusion, he couldn't discern, but she was not right in the head.

"So...what do you think?"

Aemond paused, not entirely sure what she was asking of him.

"That sounds wonderful," he replied gently, his voice a comforting murmur. "A thoughtful gift and helping your mother with the weddings are both splendid ideas."

His worry only deepened as she continued to mumble, her words meandering through the labyrinth of her consciousness. It was as if she had constructed a façade to shield herself from the harsh realities that threatened to consume her. His fingertips traced her features, as if trying to memorize the planes of her face while he had the chance.

Eventually, she stopped, and simply looked at him, a sense of wonder flickering in her eyes, a spark that transcended the haze of confusion that had enveloped her earlier.

"What is is, jorrāeliarzy?"

"You're going to leave aren't you?"

"Leave? Why would I leave you Daenys? And where would I go?"

Daenys sighed, as if burdened by a great truth.

"You...care for your brother, your family, and I love my mother. I have heard what the people whisper about."

"And what does that have to do with me leaving?"

"Well one day you'd have to leave, won't you? It makes me sad. Sometimes I think I start to miss you before you are even gone."

Aemond stilled, threading his fingers through her hair, nails scraping against her skull as he brought her face a hairsbreadth from his.

"I won't leave. I swear it by the old gods and the new. I will never be the one to leave you," he declared fiercely.

And I won't let you leave me either.

She smiled slowly, although it didn't reach her eyes. Her gaze held a disturbing resemblance to Aegon's inebriated one, particularly when he had one too many drinks.

"And be nicer to my brothers. They are only children. They will come to adore you like I do, if you only try a little," she spoke as if she was in a dream.

Aemond couldn't tell, maybe she really was.

"If you ask it of me, then I will try," he mumbled, looking away from her guiltily but feeding into her delusion all the same.

When Daenys brought her hands up to cup his face, his breath caught in his throat. Her fingers gingerly traced the edge of his eyepatch, and then, with slow deliberation, she began to lift it away.

She was remarkably gentle, always mindful of the old injury, but Aemond couldn't help but inhale sharply through his teeth, his head jerking back involuntarily. The echoes of her previous words, the memory of her calling him hideous, lingered in the recesses of his mind. He waited for the sting of those words to be hurled at him once more, bracing himself for the impact of her judgment. He almost dared her to do it, to break the fragile calm that had settled over them.

A flicker of hurt flashed across her features as she sensed his avoidance. Undeterred, she took his face in her hands, gently turning him to face her once again. For a while, she simply observed, her eyes boring into the midnight depths of his eye that shone with every star of the night sky in the darkness of their chambers.

Then, her gaze dropped to the sapphire pendant that still adorned the hollow of her throat despite everything that had occurred.

She hadn't taken it off. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

Her lips pulled a little higher, the brightness of her a contrast to the shadows that clung to the corners of the room.

"We match," she said, her voice soft and filled with fascination. Aemond, caught off guard by the unexpected sentiment, felt a lump forming in his throat. It took everything within him not to cry.

Of course, they matched. They were always meant to.

He had given it to her on her fifteenth name day. It was a promise of sorts, even if she had not known it at the time. A promise that she would belong to him one day, that she would always be his.

He swallowed hard, his gaze locking with hers, "Yes, we do."

"It was on purpose you know..."

"What?" he frowned in confusion.

"Me...I...on purpose...I loved you on purpose. It wasn't pity...or-or guilt...or whatever else you think it was. It was a choice. It was my choice. I chose you."

Loved. She used the past tense.

This time Aemond was unable to prevent the tears from filling his uninjured eye, and when she leaned up to place a feathered kiss on the scarred skin under his sapphire, they trickled down his cheek, his face strange in its asymmetry when only one of his eyes could could truly mourn.

She kissed away another tear, and his entire world collapsed in on itself, the only feeling that of her lips on his skin. He wished this was real. With everything in his entire being, he wished this was real. He wished he had never gone to negotiate with Lord Borros Baratheon. He wished he hadn't let his rage or resentment consume him. He wished he hadn't ruined them.

Whether he would lose Daenys to the war he had inevitably begun or to herself and the madness he saw in her eyes, he would lose her all the same. He felt her slipping away from him, like granules of sand on a windy day, so he hugged her closer, unable to stop the sob that he buried in her hair, mourning her loss even as he held her still breathing form in his arms. Even as she stroked his head and murmured more comforting nonsense in his ear while he shuddered in her embrace.

It wasn't real. None of it was real.

Her temporary affections felt like a tease from the gods.

Someone somewhere was laughing at him, sniggering at his naivete. She was a gift he only deserved as a prelude to punishment. A bluff between goodbye and forever, and Aemond Targaryen had given himself up to the gamble years ago, to the breathlessness that was a hammer on his chest.

A/N: likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts <3 Comment to be added to the taglist

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #icarusignite writes #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #aemond x reader #jacaerys velaryon #icarus ignite fic recs #aemond x oc #helaena targaryen #hotd #game of thrones #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #fandiction

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nackrosor · 6 months ago

Text

Gale Dekarios x Tav

1,1 k. - Gale comforts you after an emotional breakdown | hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

a.n: I wrote this solely because I needed to give myself a hug. But then I thought there could be someone else struggling with depression/anxiety/ecc who needs to feel loved and would like Gale to comfort them, so I'm sharing this for you ♡

You trembled against him, your hands desperately clutching onto his robe as he drew you into his lap and embraced you.

"I'm exhausted." you admitted with a weary sigh. "I can't take this anymore."

Everything was catching up to you; the storm outside, the terrible memories flooding back into your mind, the exhaustion of having to fight off those dark thoughts for so long. And it was all beginning to drain you. Keeping your troubles hidden from your lover had also been particurarly grueling. You wished you hadn't but you were scared he would abandon you.

Gale gently pressed his lips against your forehead as he held you close to his chest, his warmth enveloping you whole.

"I know, my sweet," he whispered in a soft voice, one that despite his attempts was full of concern, "just let me hold you for now, alright...? Try to quiet your mind for awhile. I'll help you through this."

"Why?" you simply asked him, your voice so vulnerable and earnest as it was subdued. You took a deep breath, soaking in his scent as you unconsciously nuzzled closer into him, clinging onto his robe with both your hands, holding on so tight that your fingertips turned white.

"Why would you stay by my side? Especially after everything I've just told you..."

That simple question was enough to take his breath away. He knew it was reasonable of you to wonder about that, since the emotional breakdown you had just gone through had left you in a poor mental state, and mostly in need of reassurance. He was more than ready to give you just that. However, it didn't make your question nor his answer any less powerful.

His fingers ran through your hair, his warm breath brushing the shell of your ear as he snuggled you closer.

"Because you are a sweet, compassionate, and bright soul who deserves someone to hold you when life's storms hit. Because your pain becomes mine when yours is as deep as it is and our bond is as profound. Because you ought to be happy, and I want to be a part of your life to assist you and ensure that you reach such happiness. Ideally, even be the source of your joy."

His words caused your heart to swell with pure affection. You raised your head from his chest, your touched gaze meeting his. Your hand reached out to tenderly graze his jaw as a faint smile finally bloomed on your face.

He melted at the sight of it, and his eyes lit up with some relief. He'd had enough of your tear-stained face, more so after learning the cause of your weeping. You were always a vision in his eyes, yes... But your stunning smiling face held his heart in a vice. He would gladly allow you to maintain such control over it if it meant he could always see you happy. Tears of joy may flow, but not of anguish.

"You like... Broken things, don't you?" you asked him softly, a hint of amusement in your otherwise genuine tone.

Gale gently took your hand in his and pressed it against his lips, placing a tender peck on the center of your palm.

"The only broken thing about you is your heart, my sweet," he replied softly. "And who wouldn't want to mend one of the most valuable things in this world? I am lucky to have found such a rare jewel, even if its shine isn't at its brightest right now." His eyes twinkled with a hint of playfulness as he added, "Little bit of elbow grease and you'll shine brighter than the sun, just like you were meant to."

His answer genuinely moved you, warming your heart and eliciting a soft chuckle out of your lips. The more time you spent with him, cocooned in his arms, heartened by his words of praise and reassurance and unconditional affection, the more convinced you were that he could, in fact, heal your heart if you allowed him. The way he had been listening to you, comforting you and reaffirming his place by your side when you were at your lowest had only reinforced such thoughts... along with your feelings towards him.

"Oh, Gale..." you cooed softly, placing your hand on his cheek yet again to gently cradle it. As you gazed up at him, your eyes shone with admiration, hope, and gratitude. "You're truly one of a kind."

The playfulness in his look vanished in an instant, his eyes softening at the praise. He felt the warmth of your palm on his cheek, and he leaned into your touch. A tender smile grazed his lips as he took a moment to study your fond gaze. You looked just as taken with him as he was with you; the realization made his heart full.

"And you're nothing short of a miracle, my little sunbeam." His smile grew even wider and warmer as he beamed at you. He brushed his fingers against your spine in a soothing circular pattern, pressing you even closer to him, while looking down into your eyes as if you were the only thing in the universe besides him. The only thing that truly mattered, anyway.

"The world is a better place because you're in it, and I mean that more than anything else."

Your jaw tensed as his words pierced your heart, causing your eyes to well up with fresh tears. Your hand on his cheek stilled, your chest felt tight, swelling with devotion.

You didn't know what to say. No one had ever spoken such lovely words to you, or made you feel so loved, valued, and treasured. This was truly foreign to you. You could only stare up at him in awe, your heart racing, your stomach turned into a nestle for a swarm of butterflies.

"Gale..."

The wizard felt his throat tighten with emotion. The moment was so beautiful, so pure, that it nearly left him breathless. Every fiber of his being vibrated with pure raw affection for you.

His touch was gentle as he brushed his thumb against your cheek to wipe away a stray tear. Then he leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead while his arms securely wrapped around your frame, encircling your waist.

He took a deep breath and smiled.

"I love you, my dearest. I'll always love you."

You could feel your heart nearly burst in your chest. A faint sob escaped your trembling lips as you leaned in to rest your forehead against his, your palm on his chest, right above his heart.

"I love you too." you managed to whisper despite the rasp within your voice. "So much..."

Every ounce of emotion that had been threatening to overwhelm him erupted in that very moment, and he found himself clutching you harder against him, kissing the crown of your head over and over again.

There were no words. No poems or sonnets that could adequately capture that moment, the connection he felt to you.

His voice was thick and breathy when he spoke again.

"We'll face every storm together, and our love will always see us through to the other side.... I promise."

MORE STORIES 🥀

[Also, please consider BUYING ME A ☕, if you particularly like what you read. Thank you! 🥀]

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #bg3 gale #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfic #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #gale bg3 #my writing

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spectersgirl · 1 year ago

Note

if ur taking requests!! harvey and reader getting into a heated argument and harvey being his usual self takes it too far by saying something he didn’t mean and it ends up real angsty but then they make up somehow cuz i don’t like sad endings lol

if ur not don’t worry abt it :)

I'm always taking requests! I may not do them but I'm always taking them 🤪

Regret

Harvey Specter x Reader

--------

The New York skyline really was beautiful, and maybe you could've appreciated it if you were standing in Harvey's office under different circumstances.

The air crackled with tension as you and Harvey fought, the biggest fight you'd had in your entire relationship.

"You can't just bulldoze your way through everything, Harvey!" your voice cut through the silence, blazing with frustration. "One day you'll realize you need to listen to others instead of assuming you have all the answers, and it'll be too late."

Harvey's features hardened, his gaze unwavering as he spoke coldly. "And sometimes, you need to understand that this is how it works. I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you have. You don't get to lecture me on how to handle my cases, if I wanted your opinion I would've asked."

The words, sharper than intended, hung heavy in the air leaving a bitter taste in both your and Harvey's mouths. You tried your best to hide it, but he saw the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face, a mix of betrayal and anguish clouding your expression.

"You know what, Harvey? Maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't bother trying to help if you're just going to throw it back in my face," you replied, your voice trembling ever so slightly with restrained emotion.

For a moment, regret crossed Harvey's eyes, but his pride took over once more, replacing the regret with a coldness. "Fine. Maybe it's better this way."

The harshness in his words reverberated, a feeling of finality rippling through the room. You hated this, but there was nothing left for you to say. You stormed out, leaving him with nothing but the click of your heels on the tile floor. The door sealing shut made Harvey sigh, immediate regret over his words hitting him like a wave.

The hours that followed were agonizingly slow, each minute dragging on as Harvey remained seated at his desk, getting nothing done as the weight of his own words bore down on him. His usual confidence faltered as he replayed every word of the argument in his mind, grappling with the realization that his pride had cost him the most important thing he'd ever known. He swirled a glass of whiskey he'd poured absentmindedly.

It wasn't until a soft, hesitant knock broke the silence in his office that Harvey stirred from his thoughts. you stood at the threshold, your shoulders tense and eyes glistening with tears. He saw every emotion you felt plain as day on your face, and his heart lurched.

"Y/N, I didn't mean what I said," Harvey began, but you raised a hand, interrupting him.

"I know you didn't. And neither did I," you admitted, your voice cracking with vulnerability.

A fragile silence loomed, a moment of uncertain energy between you, before Harvey closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice laced with genuine remorse. "I'm so, so sorry."

You nodded, hugging him back and resting your head on his chest, the tension evaporating as you both relaxed for the first time that day. "I am too."

Harvey gently pulled away, cupping your face with a tenderness that said everything he didn't know how to. "We make a good team, you and I. I can't lose that."

A small smile formed on your lips, unable to hide the fact that you shared the sentiment. "Me either, Harvey."

With this admission, he gently leaned down to kiss your lips, a longing present there as you kissed back.

#harvey specter x reader #harvey specter #harvey specter suits #harveyspecter #suits fics #request

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violetwanderer · 4 days ago

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Raising Grogu with Din Would Include:

Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Brief mentions of violence and injuries

Word Count: 723

Do not copy or translate my works

If you were traveling with Din before you two acquired Grogu:

Din would probably find this a lot easier to deal with, as he has someone to consult on everything. If you've known each other quite a while and the trust has already been built up, then this situation becomes a lot easier

From first picking up the child as a bounty, to taking him back from the Empire and even how to take care of him while you two travel. You talk everything through as a team

You might not always agree, but Din is glad to hear a different perspective. It helps him figure out if he's doing the right thing in each situation

It's especially handy when you two have to leave the ship for whatever reason. There's always an extra set of eyes on the child this way and an extra set of hands if someone needs to carry him

If you're good in a fight, it means there's someone else willing to protect the child from the Empire as well. That's something he is eternally grateful for

Over time, Din starts to see the two of you as Grogu's parents, even when he knows he shouldn't, like when the Armourer told him he must bring Grogu back to his own kind

It makes it even harder to not get attached to the little one when the whole situation feels so domestic at times

Like when he's watching you give Grogu a bath or rocking the little one to sleep after a long day

There's also someone to share his anguish when he has to give Grogu to Luke. You have each other to lean on, even if he isn't the best at showing his emotions

The joy you both feel when Grogu returns is indescribable. It's like you're a family once again

This time Din would want to make it more formal, more official. He'd want you all to be a clan of three

He would be nervous about making his feelings for you known, but so happy when they are reciprocated. The three of you would be a happy little family, with much fewer threats once Mandalore is taken back and Moff Gideon is killed

If you meet Din after he acquired Grogu:

Naturally Din is much less trusting of you

They've come across too many enemies in their travels and the child has been hunted across the galaxy

He probably meets you through Peli Moto when he needs his ship fixed by her and needs someone to watch Grogu

It doesn't matter how nice you are or how much Grogu seems to like you from the moment he meets you, you're still a stranger to him

Still, you prove yourself as someone willing to do anything for the child when you defend him against someone who tries to take him. Din arrives just in time to shoot the guy dead

He has needed someone to mind Grogu for quite a while now and he starts to think you're the perfect option

He offers the job and you take it, even though you don't know him well. You can't say no to taking care of the little one, not when he looks up at you with those big eyes

It takes a while for Din to adjust to you living with him on the ship. It's harder than when Grogu joined him because you take up much more space

Still, he remains polite at all times and slowly warms up to you, enjoying your company after being on his own for so long

It isn't until you get injured protecting Grogu that he realises just how much he cares about you. Seeing you hurt nearly makes his heart stop

After that, he's much more protective of you and always has his hand on your back when you're out in public together. He feels he can protect you better when he's touching you somehow

It isn't long after this that Din realises he can't keep his feeling secret any longer and confesses them to you nervously

Of course, you feel the same way and the two of you naturally grow much closer, with him now seeing you as another parent to Grogu

You're not just someone he hired to mind the child anymore, you're part of his clan

#WallflowerWrites #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Grogu #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin Imagine #Din Djarin Headcanons #Din Djarin Headcanon

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momma-pixel · 4 months ago

Text

I Must Speak But Don't Have The Words

[TW: Suicide] When: 1988 Where: Playground, Kindergarten Situation: Little Me strongly and firmly believes that if I antagonize the girls and make them chase me then when I get caught they'll turn me into a girl like them as punishment. Apparently boys will be boys.

When: 1989-1994 Where: My bed, every night / Home Situation #1: I prayed to god every night to let me wake up as a girl. Situation #2: Caught wearing my sister's panties a few times, said it was because I couldn't find my own underwear. Situation #3: Constantly asked to help with yard work, would prefer to help in the house. Told that's women's work, what are you a girl, stop being lazy.

When: 1993-1995 Where: Home / Hospital Situation: General moodiness and angst, aches and pains. Breasts and hips are forming. Why parents? You're fat (I wasn't). Get confused for a girl out in public, parents force me to cut my hair and go on a strict diet. Doctor says I only have one testicle but also wants to run chromosome and hormone tests. Parents balk at cost. Surgery to find a missing testicle. I prayed to god, for the last time, to have the doctors turn me into a girl. They find a testicle slightly smaller than a marble, it's atrophied.

When: 1996 - 2000 Where: High School / Home Situation #1: Fell in with the punk and goth crowd. Had friends. Learned about the world at large thanks to them (and this new thing called the internet!). Discovered I was Bisexual. Learned the term 'transsexual'. Boom, head blown. Female bestie opens her arms, heart, and closet doors to me. Wearing black lipstick, black nail polish, eyeliner. Parents hate me. Wanted my ears pierced, dad said it was for girls and fags. In an argument about something dumb my mom calls me a cocksucker - I quipped that at least I was getting dick, flipped my hair, and walked away...we didn't speak to each other for a month. Situation #2: Attempted suicide twice. Both attempts failed right before they would have succeeded thanks to some spectacular reverse-final destination shit. Parents blamed my friends, my books, and anything else they could. Boyfriend jokes it's because god is scared of me after ignoring my prayers for so long and needs time to come up with an alibi.

When: 2001 - 2005 Where: Therapist's Office Situation #1: Asperger Syndrome (to be changed much later to Autism), Depression, Transsexualism. Do this thing called a Real Life test. Standards too rigid, too high, failed test. Situation #2: Final suicide attempt. Lots of counseling, meds, and restrictions.

When: 2010 - Present Where: New State of Being/Mind/Residence Situation: Grabbed life by the gooch and made it my bitch. Found new therapist, learned about myself more, began fixing myself, started a proper transition.

I never knew the words needed to express my mental anguish and emotional turmoil. They were concepts in my mind colored with prismatic abstract thoughts. My world was a tiny box with the only things allowed in governed by my parents. I wanted so badly to say to someone, anyone, that I was in pain and needed help but didn't know how. Even today I still have trouble putting words to thoughts - as an example, this post alone has already taken an hour to write.

For any of you out there struggling to talk about your changes, your transitions, your mental state of you, take this advice - there are words out there for you! Take your time to craft them as purposely and gently as possible. Some people will kick up at them and try to break them, but they are your words and you made them. They can't be broken, they can't be sullied or tainted. Those words were crafted by hand with love (for yourself) and perseverance (for a better tomorrow) by the best craftsmen in the world: You.

#mtf #trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtqia #lgbtq

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deerdosie · 5 months ago

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ﹒౨ৎ﹒can somebody just embrace me...?

head cannons - ateez. — more 'ateez' works — masterlist

overview. vampire!ateez x human!reader , the members reactions when human!reader has been bitten / infected and ultimately turns into a supernatural creature.

authors note. i've never really done a hc's list before, so please bare with, and i'm sorry if it's lq! also, i wrote most of hongjoong's hc while listening to eternal sunshine... gives you an insight into how my brain works, doesn't it.

reader is gender neutral - or whatever gender you prefer!

wc. — 3.2k

kim hongjoong — initially, hongjoong is shocked. he stands frozen, eyes wide as he processes the sight before him. you, his beloved, have been turned into a werewolf—an enemy of vampires. he takes a step back, his mind racing to understand what happened and how to fix it.

"this..can't be real." he mutters in disbelief, his voice shaking with anger, "how did this happen? who did this to you?"

when reality sets in, hongjoong is filled with guilt. he feels like it was his fault because he couldn't protect you. he feels a sense of failure, and ultimately distances himself from you, unable to look you in the eye. he researches every possible way to help you, to find a cure. sleepless nights become his norm, dark circles forming under his eyes as he pores over ancient texts and consults with supernatural experts.

"i should have protected you," he whispers one night, his voice breaking. "i should have been there. i won't forgive myself for this." the tension of your new identity as a werewolf strains your relationship. hongjoong struggles with the instinctual enmity between vampires and werewolves, fearing that your transformation could drive a wedge between you. "i'm sorry," he says, avoiding your gaze. "i just… i can't look at you without thinking about how i failed you. and now, with what you’ve become… it's complicated." eventually, hongjoong starts to accept the new reality. he realises that distancing himself only hurts both of you more. one evening, as you struggle with your newfound abilities, hongjoong sits beside you, his expression hard but understanding. "what if i hurt someone? what if i can't control it? and what about… us?" hongjoong squeezes your hand reassuringly. "then i'll be here to help you. we’ll practice until you feel confident. and remember, you’re still you. your heart, your kindness—that hasn’t changed. we’ll find a way to make this work, even if it’s difficult." you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth and strength. "thank you, hongjoong. for everything. i know this isn't easy for you either."

park seonghwa — seonghwa's heart shatters the moment he realises you've been turned into a werewolf, a natural enemy of vampires. his first reaction is one of shock and heartbreak. he struggles to process the reality, standing frozen as tears well up in his eyes. "no, this can't be happening," he whispers, his voice trembling. "why would anybody do this to you..." seonghwa's initial heartbreak turns into a deep, lingering sorrow. he feels a profound sense of loss and change, constantly worrying about the dangers and implications of your new life. the enmity between vampires and werewolves weighs heavily on him, adding to his anguish. seonghwa becomes overly protective, often to the point of being suffocating. his fear of losing you drives him to check on you constantly, ensuring you're safe at all times. he's always on edge, worried that any moment could bring danger to your doorstep. "i'm so sorry this happened to you," he says, his voice choked with emotion. "i should have been there. i should have protected you better." he often breaks down in private, overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness and guilt. he fears that your transformation will create a rift between you, one that might be impossible to bridge. "i can't stand the thought of you being in danger," he confesses one night, tears streaming down his face. "i'm so scared of losing you." once seonghwa starts to accept the situation, his nurturing side shines through. he becomes your steadfast support, helping you navigate your new existence. he makes it his mission to learn everything about werewolves, seeking out ways to help you adjust and control your new abilities. seonghwa's calm and steady presence provides you with the stability you need. he spends countless hours with you, helping you practice controlling your transformations and understanding your new strengths. he’s patient and encouraging, always there to guide you through each step of your transformation. "you're doing great," he encourages you after a particularly challenging training session. "i'm so proud of you." he finds small ways to make you smile and feel loved despite the changes. whether it's cooking your favourite meal, surprising you with little gifts, or simply holding you close when you feel overwhelmed, seonghwa's love and care are unwavering. "i've been thinking," he murmurs. "about how much i love you, and how nothing will ever change that. not even this. i've written a letter for you, about everything i'm feeling. i want you to read it when you're ready." you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth and emotion. he presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but firm. "i love you. no matter what happens, that will never change."

jeong yunho — yunho is stunned the moment he realises you've been turned into a werewolf, a natural enemy of vampires. he tries to mask his fear with a smile, focusing on keeping your spirits up even as his mind races with worry. "hey, it’s okay," he says, his voice trembling slightly. "we'll figure this out, alright?" behind his cheerful facade, yunho struggles with the reality of your transformation. he worries about how it will affect your future together, sometimes feeling like he’s losing you to the new instincts and behaviours that come with being a werewolf. he’s deeply troubled by the potential dangers and the ancient enmity between your new kind and his. at night, when he thinks you're asleep, yunho’s smile fades. he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, overwhelmed by his fears and anxieties. "what if i can't protect you?" he whispers to himself, his voice barely audible. "what if this changes everything between us?" he’s haunted by nightmares of you turning against him or being hunted down by other vampires. these fears gnaw at him, making him more anxious and jumpy during the day. despite his internal struggles, yunho uses his energy to help you adapt, often turning your training into fun and playful activities. he finds joy in discovering your new abilities with you and is always there to lift your mood when things get tough. "let’s see how fast you can run now!" he suggests one day, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "i’ll race you to that tree over there." he makes it his mission to remind you that you're not alone and that he loves you no matter what. he wants to make you feel supported and comfortable with your new identity. "you're amazing, you know that?" he tells you after you manage to control a transformation. "i always knew you were strong, but this… you’re incredible." one night, after a particularly tough day, you were sat on a blanket, staring out at the woods and the night sky. hearing a shuffle beside you as yunho joined you. "you know," he starts, his tone light, "i’ve been reading up on werewolves. did you know that their sense of smell is amazing? you could probably track me down even if i tried to hide." you chuckle softly, the tension easing slightly. "maybe i'll give it a try sometime." yunho smiles, pulling you closer. "i just want you to know that, no matter what, you’re still the person i fell in love with. werewolf, human, it doesn’t matter to me."

kang yeosang — yeosang is initially stunned and speechless upon discovering that you've been turned into a werewolf, a natural enemy of vampires. he takes a step back, his eyes wide with shock and confusion, struggling to process the transformation. "how… how did this happen?" he finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "who did this to you?" the shock soon gives way to a deep sense of worry and sadness. yeosang grapples with the reality of your transformation, feeling a mix of guilt and fear. he’s haunted by thoughts of the ancient enmity between vampires and werewolves, worried about how it will affect your relationship and your safety. yeosang becomes more withdrawn, often lost in his thoughts. he spends hours researching ways to help you control your new abilities, hoping to find a solution or at least a way to make things easier for you. "i should have been there," he says one night, his voice breaking. "i should have protected you." he fears that the tension between your new identity and his might drive a wedge between you. he struggles with his own instincts and worries about the potential for conflict. "what if… what if things get worse?" he confesses, his eyes filled with worry. "what if i can't protect you from other vampires?" despite his fears, yeosang’s love for you remains unwavering. he decides to face this challenge head-on, determined to support you through your transformation. he starts to embrace your new identity, focusing on the positives.

yeosang becomes your anchor, helping you adjust to your new abilities. He creates a safe space for you to practice and learn, always patient and encouraging. "you're doing great," he tells you after a successful transformation. "i knew you could do it." he finds ways to incorporate your new abilities into your daily life, making it feel more normal and less daunting. whether it's going on night runs to explore your enhanced senses or cooking special meals that cater to your new dietary needs, yeosang ensures that you feel loved and supported.

"let's go for a run tonight," he suggests with a smile. "i bet you can outrun me now." one evening, as you struggle with your newfound powers, yeosang sits beside you, his expression soft and understanding. "i know this is overwhelming," he says gently, taking your hand in his. "but we’ll get through it together. you're not alone in this, y/n." you look at him, your eyes filled with uncertainty. "what if i hurt someone, yeosang? what if i can't control it?" yeosang’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes steady. "then we’ll work on it together. i believe in you, and i’ll be here every step of the way." "i’ve always admired how strong you are. this is just another challenge, and i know you can handle it." you chuckle softly, the tension easing slightly. "you really think so?" yeosang nods, his eyes filled with determination. "absolutely. you're still the person i fell in love with. this doesn't change who you are at your core." you smile, tears beginning to form in your eyes. yeosang placed a soft kiss on your lips, pulling away with a smile. "i love you. no matter what happens, that will never change. we’ll find a way to make this work."

choi san —

san is overwhelmed with a mix of emotions upon discovering you've been turned into a werewolf, a natural enemy of vampires. he’s shocked, scared, and heartbroken, but he quickly masks his fear with determination and a fierce protectiveness.

"how did this happen?" he asks, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and worry. "who did this to you? i swear, i’ll make them pay." san struggles internally with the reality of your transformation. he’s haunted by the potential dangers and the ancient enmity between vampires and werewolves. the thought of losing you to this new identity or having you become a target for other vampires eats away at him. san’s fear manifests as intense protectiveness. he barely lets you out of his sight, constantly on edge and ready to defend you at any moment. he has trouble sleeping, often waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares of you being hunted or harmed. "i should have been there," he mutters to himself, his voice filled with self-recrimination. "i should have protected you."

he also struggles with the fear that your new instincts might drive a wedge between you. the tension and the worry sometimes lead to heated arguments, fueled by his frustration and fear.

"what if you lose control?" he snaps one night, immediately regretting his words as he sees the hurt in your eyes. "i… i just don’t want to lose you." despite his fears, san’s love for you remains fierce and unwavering. He throws himself into helping you adapt, channeling his energy into ensuring you feel safe and supported. he makes it his mission to learn everything about werewolves, seeking out ways to help you control your new abilities. san turns your training into intense yet supportive sessions. he pushes you to your limits, always there to catch you if you fall. his encouragement and belief in your strength help you gain confidence in your new abilities. san also finds ways to bring joy and normalcy back into your life. whether it's surprising you with your favourite treats, planning adventurous outings to explore your enhanced senses, or simply holding you close during quiet moments, san ensures you feel loved and cherished. "let’s go for a night hike," he suggests with a grin. "i bet you can see and hear things i can't even imagine." one evening, as you struggle with your newfound powers, san sits beside you, his expression soft but intense.

"i know this is hard," he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "but we’ll get through it together. i’m right here with you." you look at him, your eyes filled with uncertainty. "what if i hurt someone, san? what if i can't control myself? what if you were right and i lose control?" san takes a deep breath, his grip on your hand firm and reassuring. "then we’ll work on it until you can control yourself. i believe in you, and i’ll be here every step of the way." you bit your lip, not entirely believing the man beside you. "you know," he starts, his tone lightening as he tries to make you smile, "i think you might be even cooler as a werewolf. just think of all the amazing things you can do now." you chuckle softly, the tension easing slightly. "wasn't i always cool?"

song mingi — mingi is initially shocked when he finds out you've been turned into a werewolf, a natural enemy of vampires. he struggles to comprehend the situation, his mind racing with worry and fear. "how… how did this happen?" he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. as the reality sinks in, mingi is consumed by a deep sense of guilt and responsibility. he blames himself for not being able to protect you, and he worries about how your transformation will affect your safety and your relationship. "i should have been there," he mutters to himself, his eyes filled with self-recrimination. "i should have kept you safe." mingi becomes withdrawn, lost in his own thoughts and fears. he spends countless hours researching werewolves, desperate to find a way to help you control your new abilities. despite his efforts, he can't shake the feeling of helplessness that gnaws at him. "what if i can't protect you from other vampires?" he confesses one night, his voice filled with worry. "what if this changes everything between us?" "it won't change anything mi-" "you don't know that!" despite his fears, mingi's love for you remains unwavering. he throws himself into supporting you, determined to help you navigate your new identity. he turns your training sessions into opportunities for bonding and growth, always there to encourage you and lift your spirits. mingi also finds small ways to bring joy and normalcy back into your life. whether it's planning fun outings or surprising you with thoughtful gestures, he makes sure you feel loved and cherished. "let's go stargazing tonight," he suggests with a smile. "i bet the view will be even better now that you're a werewolf."

jung wooyoung — wooyoung is taken aback when he learns about your transformation into a werewolf, a natural enemy of vampires. his expressive eyes widen in surprise, and he takes a step back, momentarily lost for words. "you… a werewolf?" he finally manages to say, his voice tinged with disbelief. "how is that even possible?" as the reality sinks in, wooyoung's initial shock gives way to a mix of concern and determination. he's deeply worried about your safety and how this transformation will affect your relationship, but he's also determined to stand by your side through it all. "i can't believe this happened to you," he admits, his brows furrowed with worry. "but we'll figure it out. together." wooyoung's protective instincts kick into high gear as he grapples with the implications of your new identity. he becomes hyper-vigilant, constantly on the lookout for any potential threats or dangers. despite his fears, he remains fiercely committed to supporting you every step of the way. "i won't let anything happen to you," he vows, his voice filled with determination. "i'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe." despite the challenges, wooyoung's love for you remains unwavering. he throws himself into helping you adapt to your new abilities, turning your training sessions into opportunities for bonding and growth. wooyoung also finds ways to bring joy and normalcy back into your life, whether it's planning spontaneous adventures or surprising you with thoughtful gestures. you look at him, your eyes filled with uncertainty. "what if I hurt someone, wooyoung?" wooyoung's grip on your hand tightens, his gaze unwavering. "then we'll figure it out," he says firmly. "you know," he starts, his tone lightening as he tries to make you smile, "you're still the most incredible person I've ever met. and nothing, not even this, will ever change that."

you chuckle softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "thank you, wooyoung. for everything."

he presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but resolute. "I love you. and I'll always be here for you. no matter what."

choi jongho — jongho is taken aback when he learns about your transformation into a werewolf, a natural enemy of vampires. his brows furrow in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and worry. "you're a werewolf?" he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. "how did this happen?" as the reality sinks in, jongho's protective instincts kick into high gear. he's deeply concerned about your safety and well-being, but he's also determined to stand by your side through it all. "we'll figure this out," he assures you, his voice firm with resolve. "i won't let anything happen to you." jongho's strength and determination shine through as he grapples with the implications of your new identity. he becomes hyper-vigilant, always on the lookout for potential threats or dangers. despite his fears, he remains steadfast in his commitment to supporting you. "you're not alone in this," he tells you, his voice unwavering. "i'll be here for you every step of the way." jongho finds ways to bring joy and normalcy back into your life, whether it's planning spontaneous adventures or surprising you with thoughtful gestures. "let's go on an adventure," he suggests with a grin. "we'll show whoever did that to you that nothing can hold us back." a few days later, after a particularly tough transformation, jongho finds you sitting alone, staring at the moonlit sky. he sits down beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. "you know," he starts, his tone lightening as he tries to make you smile, "you're still the most amazing person i've ever met. and nothing, not even this, will ever change that." you chuckle softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "thank you, jongho. for everything." he presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but resolute. "i love you. and i'll always be here for you. no matter what."

@deerdosie please do not plagiarise my works !!

#dosies works #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop headcanons #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #x reader

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pinkwright · 2 years ago

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this whiskey got me feeling pretty | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — ex!shuri x ex!y/n

trope — exes that can't (or won't?) move on

inspo — higher by rihanna & love drought by beyoncé

warnings — drunk!reader. patient, soft!shuri. theyre both hurting. reader is a bit unfair to shuri. in my head this isnt the first time shes done this. toxic relationships if u squint hard. they still love each other. angst. fluff if you squint then wear glasses too. riri is mentioned (let's pretend that shuri messaged her before they left okay). readers kind of a mess okay. shuri's thoughts are shown too.

a/n — this is for valentine's day but it's not even lovey like that my bad yall blame rihanna n beyoncé for making me replay these album over n over. anyway enjoy ! <3

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @shurismainbxtch @verachii @rxcently @shuriszn

ஜ

i wanna go back to the old way but i’m drunk instead, with a full ashtray. with a little bit too much to say.

the bass reverberating through the walls makes you dizzy, the world feels like it’s spinning under your feet, and the flashing lights make it difficult for you to focus. the braids are slipping out of the messy bun on your head, laying heavily on the heat of your skin, adding to the heaviness in your heart that was lifted temporarily by the drinks and making it settle heavier than before.

suddenly, the steady pump of music isn’t freeing, it’s suffocating, knocking the wind out of your lungs as you blink hard, your emotions flowing out so quickly that it knocks you off-kilter. the rush of your heart in your throat forces your words to strain, “hey ri, think i’m gonna step out for a second,” then you’re avidly shaking your head at her, pulling her into a hug when she makes a move to follow you out, and the action slightly quells her worries, “no, no, you stay, i just need some air.”

the hesitant nod of her head compels you to send her the best reassuring smile you could manage, your head clouding in a way that makes you panic, needing to get outside quickly. you push your way through the sweaty bodies, your skin crawling in overstimulation as you finally step out, the cold breeze brushing against your skin when you walk to take a seat on a nearby bench.

you bring your hand up to press against the ache in your chest, feeling the oncoming of what you know is a panic attack, and close your eyes as you hold your breath, counting to ten slowly. the haze in your mind doesn’t lift but it settles enough to push you to do something you know you would never dare to do sober.

“…s’thandwa?”

and her voice makes a lump form in your throat, she sounded hesitant, and worried, her shock ringing warning bells in the depth of your spirit. and maybe it’s because you’ve downed a little too many cups of whiskey, or because she carves the edges of your usual strong, independent self, into the soft, open, and vulnerable side of yourself, but you find yourself standing on the defense.

“you piss me off so much, do you know that?” your voice is trembling as you continue, “why can’t i hate you, shuri? i want to lie to you and tell you how much of a fucking ass you are or how much i don’t miss anything about you or how much i don’t fucking think about you,” the harsh words lack bite and conviction as the lump in your throat crawls out of your lips, and your voice is breaking on a sob.

"but i can’t, i can’t because i can’t see past my devotion to you. and i know, i know i could be more creative and tell you poetic lines but i just miss you.”

the line is silent as you sob pathetically, the loud thumping of the club behind you doing little to dampen the sound of your heartbreak and you feel pathetic, after all, you were the one to end things with her. the sound of her letting out a shaky sigh reaches your ears, and you can almost see the anguish that makes itself present on her delicate features, but still, still she manages to speak softly to you, her voice tender and soothing.

“don’t move, okay? i’m on my way.”

the words ground you in a way, the raging pump of your veins quelling, the harsh beat of your heart recognising the object of its affection, but your body still aches in longing. you mutter out a quiet agreement when she prompts you to respond, and time seems to warp in your head as you wait, your eyes stuck on the beads as the call continues silently minus the sounds of shuffling and the gentle hum of shuri’s car.

you’re still staring at the device when you hear the opening of a car door, both through the device and near your seated figure, you don’t look up even as a body, her body steps in front of you. she sighs before crouching before you, her hands moving to rest on your cold thighs before pausing in their journey and opting, rather, to gently pry the beads from your tight shaking grip.

you don’t look at her. even as she tenderly grips your triceps to pull you to stand, nor as she seats you in her car, carefully strapping you in, the car is warm and silent as you look at your hands. the tears silently track down your cheeks as your body trembles from anxiety and the guilt you've been ignoring pushes at the forefront of your mind, taunting you.

she’s driving fast, not that you would notice, aching to get you somewhere safe, to, once again, be that pillar of comfort she was to you. and shuri's hurting, hurting because she knows you're trying, trying to care for her by keeping your distance, but you're still caught up in your permanent emotions, stringing her fragile self along with the dainty hope you spit at her over and over again. and the idea sends shuri into a daze, feeling like she's everywhere but nowhere all at once.

once you reach her apartment, she’s pulling your unresponsive figure through her door and moving to seat you on her messy bed, the action snaps you out of your dissociative state though you still feel like you're floating in the air. your eyes slowly raise to find her shifting through her wardrobe, clearly looking for something to dress you in, and your lips part before you can think, the alcohol in your system giving you courage, “shuri, i…”

you trail off as she tenses, her movements stuttering before her hands tightly clench around the articles of clothing, turning around with an unreadable expression on her face, and coming to stand before you. she reaches her free hand to tenderly grab your hand, pulling you to the bathroom and your legs feel like lead as she places the clothes on the closed toilet before her hands drop to your waist, hesitant like she has been all night, lifting you to sit on her sink where she moves to stand between your legs, reaching for items to clean you off with.

“i’m drunk with a little bit too much to say.”

the bluntness of your voice makes shuri pause in removing the makeup on your face, and for a reason beyond her, your words make her lips twitch in amusement before she continues her actions, throwing the cotton pad away, before she speaks and her voice is so soft and so loving, “you always have too much to say.”

once the words register in your hazy mind, your jaw drops in disbelief and offense, the slow blink you give her coaxes a soft chuckle from her, and the familiarity of the situation makes your stomach sink. her eyes are tender as they sweep over you, trying to cement in her mind that you were okay, safely within her reach, or at least physically within her reach, before she's guiding you off the sink, leaving you to get dressed.

her eyes had dropped to your lips, and she caught herself before she could place a tender peck on your full pout, her mind is reeling as she closes the door behind her, then the tears gather in her eyes as she sighs heavily, looking to the ceiling. her heart is violently clenching in anguish, you were so unfair to her, no matter how regal, or powerful she was, she was still human, and she wondered if you thought about that when you were playing your push-and-pull game with the strings of her heart.

as her hand tiredly slides down her face, she finds herself feeling lost in the middle of her bedroom, standing still like she had no purpose, no reason in the space that was once yours and hers. the door to the ensuite is clicks open and she’s schooling her expression, turning to face your meek figure dressed in her sweatpants and a large plain shirt. she lets her eyes fix on you, the same pain you bestowed upon her heart, lifting in your presence.

there are tears in your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself, and it makes shuri’s chest ache to see you like this so she slowly steps towards you, knowing how jumpy you get when you’re vulnerable like this, and lifts her arms to wrap around your shoulders as you let out a heart-wrenching sob, one that digs itself into her ribs, freezing the blood in her veins and she wishes she could hate you too.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry i hurt you, shuri.” your words are wet and remorseful, your tears staining her sleep shirt as your arms tighten around her waist so hard it makes it difficult for her to breathe, but shuri welcomes the embrace, knowing no pressure compared to the crack of her heart under the weight of your confession. she swallows thickly before responding, the tears blurring her vision as she moves to rest her chin on your head, her voice is shaky, tender, sewn with a deep seed of hurt.

“i know, i know you are, baby.”

her arms tighten around you as the term of endearment makes you sob harder, and she's pulling you closer as she walks toward her bed, her hands soothingly rubbing along your back as she gently deposits you onto her soft sheets. and everything she does to you is so tender, so soft, so gentle that it makes the guilt claw at your aching throat, and your arms tighten around her when she goes to pull away.

“please stay, please.”

the raw desperation in your voice makes shuri still for half a beat, her eyes shutting tightly before she hesitantly shifts to lie beside you, your arms refusing to let her get too far, using your close proximity to gently guide her hand to lay across your waist, then moving your arms to wrap around her shoulders, nuzzling into her neck like a lost puppy.

the room is silent, and shuri’s thinking about how much your love could kill her, how you try to kill her, and her head taunts her with the idea that you knew she would spend her life in the dark to give light to yours, planting seeds of doubts in her mind. when your hesitant voice cuts into her spiraling thoughts, she's tightening her hold on you to ground herself, “do… do you still love me?”

you sound small, and remorseful, your head digging into her neck like you’re embarrassed, and she can hear your heart rate speed up like you’re fearful, and it makes her clench her eyes tighter in pain, her lashes clinging to each other before she's exhaling a heavy breath, what did she do so wrong to have you, her lifeline, try to kill her?

“you know i do.”

and all the loving i've been giving goes unnoticed. it's just floating in the air, lookie there, are you aware?

ஜ

#pinkwrighting ⊹ ۪ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ.#shuri x black!reader #shuri udaku #black panther #letitia wright #black panther wakanda forever #shuri x reader #shuri angst #shuri smut #shuri x you #shuri black panther #shuri fluff #shuri imagine

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vilentia · 1 year ago

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Fragments of Forgiveness

Billy Hargrove x reader

part 1 | part 2

Summary: When anger tears them apart, Billy must seek redemption to save their love. Will forgiveness prevail or leave their hearts shattered forever?

Rating: Mature (M)

Categories: angst, fluff

****

A couple of days had passed since that painful, anguished moment between Billy and you. The air was heavy with tension, and each passing second felt like an eternity. Billy had been tormented by his actions, unable to escape the remorse that plagued his every thought.

But as the days went by, a glimmer of hope began to flicker within him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, and he was determined to make amends, to prove to you that he was capable of change. The love he felt for you was a driving force, pushing him to become a better person.

With a newfound determination, Billy gathered his courage and approached you cautiously, his heart pounding with anticipation and a mix of fear and hope. He had rehearsed his words a thousand times in his mind, desperately searching for the right ones that could convey the depth of his remorse and the sincerity of his desire to make things right.

"Y/N," he called out gently, his voice laced with vulnerability. "Can we talk? Please, give me a chance to explain and to show you just how sorry I am."

You turned towards him, the hurt still evident in your eyes, but there was a slight softening in your expression. Your love for him hadn't vanished completely, buried beneath layers of pain and doubt. A part of you longed for reconciliation, for the possibility of rebuilding what was broken.

Hesitant but willing, you nodded, indicating your willingness to hear him out. Billy's heart soared with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Taking a deep breath, he started to pour his heart out, his words filled with remorse and vulnerability.

"I can't find the words to express just how deeply sorry I am, Y/N. The thought of hurting you, the person I love more than anything, is unbearable. My anger took control of me, and in that moment, I lost sight of everything that truly mattered. But now, with a clearer mind and a broken heart, I see the magnitude of my actions. I never want to be that person again."

As Billy spoke, you could feel the rawness of his emotions, as if he was baring his soul to you. His voice trembled, the weight of his regret hanging heavily in the air. He didn't try to make excuses or shift blame—he took full responsibility for his mistakes, acknowledging the pain he had caused.

Tears welled up in your eyes, mirroring the depth of the emotions within you. The love you felt for Billy hadn't vanished completely either, buried beneath the pain and doubt. The desire to rebuild what you had once shared began to stir within you, cautiously reawakening hope.

"I want to believe you, Billy," you whispered, your voice quivering with a mix of hesitation and longing. "But we have to take things slow. Rebuilding trust will take time, and we both need to work on ourselves. Can you promise me that you'll try?"

Billy's face softened even further, his eyes glistening with tears of remorse and determination. He reached out, gently taking your hands in his, a silent pledge of his sincerity.

"I promise you, Y/N," he vowed, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "I will do whatever it takes to earn back your trust and to be the person you deserve. I will show you, every day, just how much I love you. Actions will speak louder than words."

And in that moment, the weight of his apology transcended mere words. It was in his tender touch, his earnest gaze, and the genuine vulnerability he allowed himself to show. Billy knew that love wasn't just about grand gestures or flowery declarations—it was about proving himself through consistent actions, day in and day out.

As you looked into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passed between you. It was a fresh start, a chance to heal and grow together. And with the weight of the past slowly lifting, you both knew that the journey ahead would be a challenging one, but it was a journey worth taking—for love, for forgiveness, and for the possibility of a brighter future.

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lamemaster · 1 year ago

Text

Vilomah

Request: Can we get a aftermath of how Baldur's death affected both mc and Maedhros as a person emotionally and how it changed their relationship? Please 🥺🙏 I hope this isn't too much to ask. I love you ❣ Take care ❣❣

Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

Genre: Angst

TWI: Character death :)

Summary: Vilomah, against the natural order. That is what they call a parent who lost their child.

AN: eeek angst warning. But hopefully you guys like it. Multiple POVs. Thanks for requesting!

Please read this to understand the context: Part 1

Ailya's pen glides across the paper, transcribing your words as you speak, knowing that these notes will eventually meet the same fate as countless others – erased, discarded, forgotten. The thought of giving up this futile task crosses her mind, a voice of reason suggesting that she should just listen to your story, unburdened by the act of documenting it. After all, what's the point of writing when the words will vanish into oblivion?

Yet, she can't bring herself to stop. Not when you sit before her, shrouded in heavy cloaks, eyes filled with fragility. It's a heartbreaking scene, and her heart compels her to continue despite the inevitability of erasure.

Your presence as her patient stretches back over a century. Ailya is the sole healer of the mind in Hirming, and she had once attended to Lord Maedhros, helping mend his shattered psyche after his rescue from Angband. But that chapter has long concluded. Now, it's your narrative that she captures in her notebook.

She knows your story well – the miraculous reunion with your love, Lord Maedhros, a tale of star-crossed lovers reunited after misunderstandings tore them apart. It's a story that has touched the hearts of many, but Ailya recognizes the bittersweet undertones that color its pages.

Your reunion came at a cost – the life of your son, Baldur, your own shattered spirit, and a fleeting existence that seems to slip away like sand through your fingers. You, Y/n, the Lady of Hirming, are fading away, a truth only Ailya's notes bear witness to.

As you continue to speak, Ailya's pen moves in tandem with your words, etching each detail, each emotion into the parchment. Yet, her heart aches for you. It's a secret she holds close – that your fading presence, the toll of your reunion, is a fact that only her notes preserve. These notes, so carefully written, are destined for destruction, consigned to the flames at the hearth of the healer's office.

She is powerless to stop it, following orders from the princes themselves. Concealing your truth from their elder brother, Maedhros, is a painful necessity. The true notes are swapped for ones that don't reveal your condition, all in an effort to protect their brother from further anguish.

In the adjacent room, another healer busies themselves with concocting false records for the meeting, notes that will be sent to Lord Maedhros, reinforcing the illusion of your well-being.

Ailya's thoughts snap back to the present as she returns her gaze to you, her heart a mix of empathy and sorrow. She watches as you fiddle with your fingers, avoiding her gaze, a picture of vulnerability. “Baldur loved the color red…his father’s color,” Your words are no different from any other session but Ailya wishes they were.

Your sessions with her have been deep dives into the lives of Baldur and Maedhros, with little of your own self shared. It's as if you're a mere observer in your own narrative.

"My Lady, how is your sleep?" Ailya gently guides the conversation back to you. Your confusion is evident, your vulnerable expression striking. Ailya notices the bags under your eyes, evidence of sleepless nights.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous gesture Ailya knows well. It's a quirk that surfaces when you're faced with discussions about your struggles – sleeping being one of them. The loss of sleep has become synonymous with the loss of your son, a state unimaginable even for an Elda.

"Have you been taking your meals?" Ailya continues, unfazed by your silence. "If you don't take care, I might have to discuss this with Lord Maedhros." The color drains from your face, replaced by panic, at her last words.

An empty threat that leave you a mess of ushered apologies.

Some days, a haunting question gnaws at your thoughts – why wasn't your love enough for Baldur? Could it be that your love was insufficient to secure his happiness? If only he hadn't cared so deeply for his father, he might have found peace by your side. It's a bitter pill to swallow, yet your feelings are not tinged with resentment towards your husband. Instead, it's a heavy acceptance of your own perceived shortcomings. You believe you should have tried harder, found a better way. Baldur deserved more than the tragic fate he met. He deserved a chance to know his father, and his untimely end feels like a cruel twist of destiny.

These thoughts become a nightly torment, causing you to gasp for air in the quiet of the night. Beside Maedhros, you lie awake, avoiding sleep as if it were an adversary. In the Lord of Hirming's chamber, you stand sentinel, vigilant in your wakefulness to protect your beloved as he sleeps.

Maedhros is never at peace in his slumber. His brows remain furrowed in a perpetual frown, betraying the nightmares that grip his dreams. Your sleepless nights become devoted to erasing that frown, your tender efforts aimed at soothing his troubled rest. Sometimes, it's a whispered melody that you offer, while on other nights, a gentle touch is enough to coax him back into peaceful slumber. Over time, you've learned to interpret the subtle nuances of his facial expressions, identifying the antidote to his nightmares.

Yet, despite your tireless attempts and countless remedies, sleep eludes you. Every time you close your eyes, your dreams transform into heart-wrenching visions of your son. You witness him on the battlefield, calling out for his father. In these dreams, you relive the painful moment of his death, unable to alter its course no matter how hard you try. Irmo, the master of dreams, grants you no respite from this torment.

You often find yourself facing your son's questioning gaze, the same inquiry etched into his eyes – "Why did I have to die, amme?" It's a question that pierces your soul, and you awake from these dreams with your heart heavy and your eyes damp. The ache of his absence haunts you, a relentless reminder.

Maedhros grapples with an unsettling truth – he cannot remember his own son. Despite gazing at old portraits and listening to your meticulously detailed stories, no sense of connection or recognition stirs within him. He may detect a flicker of his own features in his son's face, but the bond that should exist between a father and a child remains absent.

Maedhros acknowledges that he should feel grief, mourn the loss, and carry the weight of unbearable guilt, but the emotions he should feel are elusive. Instead, it's your sorrow that resonates deeply with him, tugging at his heartstrings.

Your grief, etched in your eyes, becomes a burden Maedhros can't ignore. The pain of Baldur's death lingers in your very being, and it's this anguish that affects him the most. Struggling with his own lack of emotion toward his son, Maedhros harbors a secret he dares not share with anyone – an unwarranted resentment toward his own child. It's a sentiment he detests in himself, a contradiction that breeds shame.

His son's selfless love becomes an ironical source of discomfort for Maedhros. Baldur was the reason for his prolonged separation from you, the cause of your prolonged agony. Yet, now, the same son is also the reason that Maedhros finds himself poring over the healer's notes every fortnight.

To the Lord of Hirming, only hope remains in your presence. You have finally come to his side as his wife. As the Lady of Hirming. So, even without a whisper of complaint, Maedhros listens to your every word about your son. Aiming to piece together a fleeting image of his son.

“Open the door that once,” Ailya cannot control the anger seeping into her voice. The sight of latched wooden doors leaves her vision red. She after all carries the blood of Noldor in her. The guards remain unflinchingly vigilant even as they bow to her, “We are sorry but Lord Maedhros has forbidden it. No one must open the door.”

"What reason could be there to lock the Lady in this manner?" Ailya feels a layer of dread settle over her. It numbs the rage. A realization lingers on the horizon.

"This is all for her safety. She cannot accompany him on the patrol," another guard replies.

Behind the doors is a light thud, a constant ever since Ailya’s presence, perhaps way before it. “Please…please open,” pleading noise barely travels through the sturdy wood that separates the captive from the rest of the world.

The said captive is none other than Lady Y/n. “let me go…Maedhros don’t go. I must stop him,” you continue pleading to the elf who has long left the walls of the castle.

“My Lady,” Ailya tries to call for you.

Followed by shuffling is you eager voice, “Ai Ailya, by Eru you are here! Please let me out. Ask these guards to let me go. I need to stop Maedhros…he’s gone…no no no he can’t no Baldur call Baldur,” your voice raises unlike the soft pleading before. You sound out of breath as you plead to Ailya who fruitlessly tries to comfort you.

“Ailya please please I beg you stop Maedhros,” hysteria fills your voice. “He cannot go…not like Baldur. Stop him,” Nothing budges the guards who keep you locked by the orders of their lord.

Food, sleep, and comfort of any sort leaves you. Leaving behind a wraith. In a way, Lord Maedhros has announced your doom. Ailya stays next to the door for weeks, trying to help you.

No burned notes, no hushed secrets, no siblings, no locked doors would spare Lord Maedhros of this grief. The grief of the loss of a spouse, of a fading spouse.

The sight of Elros and Elrond, surrounded by the aftermath of their kin's bloodshed, halts Maedhros in his tracks. Their appearance bears no resemblance to the descriptions you've given of Baldur. Their features don't carry a hint of your characteristics or Maedhros' likeness.

Yet, there's something about them that triggers a memory deep within him – a glimpse, a fleeting moment he once experienced when you first visited him with your son, who was at that point of time cradled in your arms. How deeply Baldur's eyes had searched for him. Even as a child in your arms, his son had tried to look past his father;s rejection.

It was a time when he foolishly turned you both away, mistaking his own flesh and blood as belonging to another. In that moment, when he saw you both leave, Maedhros felt a pang of regret, a sting of longing for the son he never knew.

Now, in the face of the Peredhel twins, the floodgates of grief he has kept restrained for ages begin to open. Surrounded by the weight of his sins and the memory of his losses, Maedhros allows himself a brief respite. The sword that has served as a symbol of his responsibilities, his duty, is sundered, his sins momentarily stepping back as he mourns.

This is a rare moment of release, a break from the relentless burden he's carried since the day you were taken from him. You were torn from his side even before he could return from his patrol, your departure orchestrated by Mandos himself. It was his doing – his refusal to listen to your pleas, to see your fear, that led to your demise. He had locked you away, shrouded in his own selfish justifications of duty and authority, as he went about his responsibilities.

He had been the reason. It wasn’t the grief of Baldur’s demise that killed you but the fear for his life that did. Maedhros deserved every ounce of pain that it lent him. He had been the one to leave you locked in the room for the sake of his subjects and his territory. He had not spared a moment’s considerations to your pleading. You had begged him to stay back. He did not care.

Instead, bound by duty, Lord of Hirming had resorted to locking you in his room as he fulfilled his role. He had ignored your fear. How did he not understand the turmoil of your heart? How scared would you have been? Alone.

And when Maedhros had returned, he found the latched door and vigilant guards. But he also found Ailya, right by your door. Except he did not find the determination of a healer in her eyes but the resignation of fate.

Behind the closed doors lay plates full of untouched food, umade bed, unkempt room. How could he have done something so heinous to you? Something he had borne in the halls of the dark lord.

There was no resentment on your face. The dead seldom carry it. Only proof of your agony was your bloodied fist that had knocked on the door for days. Hand tissues were torn and your nails cracked and broken. Nothing else betrayed your pain.

How scared, how terrified must you have been…

By the Havens of Sirion, Maedhros dares look at the children who remind him of his son. In the moments of peace he can’t help but imagine how much they would have endeared you.

As the flames of his end close in around him, Maedhros' thoughts turn to you, the woman he loved and wronged. In the searing heat that mirrors the pain within his heart, he wonders if you would forgive him once more. Could you find it in your heart to let go of the resentment, the suffering he caused, and embrace him again?

In the throes of his impending doom, Maedhros yearns for redemption, for a chance to be reunited with you and Baldur. He envisions a scene where he holds his son as he has done for the twins, Elros and Elrond. This thought carries both hope and regret – hope for a future where his mistakes are forgiven, and regret for the time he lost, the love he denied himself.

As the flames consume him, Maedhros clings to the possibility that in death, he might find a glimpse of the love he lost – a sight of you and Baldur together, a chance to finally make amends, and a moment to hold his family close, even if it's in the realm beyond life.

#the silmarillion #tolkien elves #silmarillion x reader #angst #maedhros x reader #sad ending #:((#it be like that #maedhros

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