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bi-writes · 7 months

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mercenary!ghost is dead inside. he wonders what it leaves behind on his pretty little bunny.

notes about reader: as always, reader is curvy and ghost knows exactly what he wants to do with all that ass

more mercenary!ghost (part 2/?)

word count: 5k

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, pet names (luv, pet, bunny + rabbit, puppy), dark!ghost, mean!ghost, toxic!ghost, ghost is thicc, mentions of violence and gore + murder and extortion, mw3 spoilers, mentions of ghost's canon trauma, tw smoking, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink (reader described as much smaller, manhandled easily), suggestive touching and oral (fem!receiving), cumplay, mentions of dubcon but relationship/dynamics are consensual, simon "i eat pussy like a god" riley

his phone is ringing. it surprises him, the sound of it. it's not familiar, to hear it ring, to see a name on the screen of it and recognize it.

there was no one left to call. not until now.

he adjusts his hold on his rifle, slipping an earbud into his ear.

"'ello?"

"almost back yet?" it's you. rattling your cage.

"'m busy."

"i know--" he clicks his tongue when you say this, annoyed. "but you're not back yet."

"i'll be back when i'm back."

"yeah, but when is that?"

brat.

"'s this how it's gonna be? botherin' me when 'm out?"

"uh huh. so when are you gonna be back?"

"when 'm back."

you huff at that, and ghost snarls a bit under the mask, adjusting the scope and peering through it. there is movement, and he focuses. then your soft voice sounds again, "are you with someone else?"

there's a grunt, and then a firm, "no." and it is the truth, and you know it is, because he doesn't care enough to lie to you. you sigh on the other end, staring up at the ceiling with a wobbly bottom lip.

"we done 'ere?" he asks after a long pause. you sniffle, closing your eyes.

"take me with you next time."

he hangs up before he answers. needy little puppy he has, he knows this. he isn't unfamiliar with this kind of dynamic. it wasn't unlike the job he used to have--a lieutenant, a man in charge, in command of other needy puppies that needed to be put in their place. he wonders often if johnny would have liked you, but you are enough trouble as it is on your own.

a pet dies and another is bought; whatever ghost is, he outlives them.

he attracts them, he thinks. the ones who ache to belong. from the first moment he met you, he knows that is why he felt his blood run a little warmer at the sight of you--it is something in your eyes, something he recognizes, something that he knows tastes so fucking good. there is predator, and there is prey, and then there is the in-between. the purgatory of those who have no idea who they are. they must be shown. they have to be taught, and if they fall into the wrong hands, they are mangled and chewed through.

he wonders for a moment if maybe his mother was one of them. then he remembers that it doesn't matter what she was, because his father had black running through his veins. the same black that simon thinks he sees in the mirror--and sometimes it bleeds onto his face, he swears it's there, hiding underneath the eye-black he paints on himself.

when he was younger, he used to hide from his reflection because of it. the rot of the other half that he was made of, it terrified him. he feared being consumed by it. he was afraid of letting it show, he was afraid of scaring other people.

but when he crawled himself out of his early grave and buried the good half of himself, he didn't flinch in the mirror any longer. he let himself linger there, and when he swiped the black against his pale skin for the first time, he remembers thinking that maybe it had always been there. that he doesn't recognize himself without it because this is what i am, something made of ash, something that shouldn't be here, the remnants of something that touched a flame too hot and swallowed something foul. rancid.

and maybe that is what he's been doing since then--maybe that is what the hollow place is that he feels inside, maybe it's the half that he buried that he wishes so fucking badly to hold onto because it's the only thing that distracted him from feeling like the thing that he truly is. and maybe that is why he died again when johnny did; it was too late to realize that the hollowness is back, and it is deeper, and it hurts now, fuck, take it back, take it away--

and maybe that is why he hates you in some way. because the space is gone. it is filled again; and you fit so perfectly there, and it will happen again, and he has no idea how many more times he can lose the redeemable half of him until there is nothing left to redeem.

but black still runs in his veins, and he is selfish, and he will hold onto it until it's gone. he doesn't care. he is a thing, he is not real, and it doesn't matter to him if he will die again when you do, because while he has you, he will drink what you give him. salvation, redemption, painting his blood red, whatever the fuck it is that you are meant to give him, he will take it, and he will devour it, and he doesn't care what he leaves behind.

he wants it. it's selfish, it's cruel, but he wants it. everything he touches fades away; if he was something real, he would cut you off. but he isn't, and he doesn't care, and he's curious to know what the stain of himself will look like on you.

beautiful you. such a pretty girl. soft like a bunny, glittering eyes--if he was a poet, he might say they are filled with starlight. but ghost is a predator; the shine of you only makes his mouth water.

you were his the moment he saw you for the very first time. he was not inclined to ask your permission, but it wouldn't have mattered--he knew as soon as your eyes met, really met, that he had you. hook, line, and sinker--there it is, there she is, what she really is inside. there is a light there inside of you, he could see it.

he is going to snuff it out. he doesn't know why, but he will, because he wants to. he has an urge to kill something, and he thinks whatever it is that swims in you will do just fine. he knows, somehow, that you will look beautiful covered in it--in the tears when he breaks, when he tears, when he destroys, you will look beautiful, and he won't stop until he takes all of it. he knows, too, he doesn't know how he knows but he knows, that you will let him.

he crossed another name off his list today. he watched them on a lonely rooftop all morning, and it rained. he watched them move back and forth, between doorways, answering phone calls. he doesn't ask questions, so he wonders occasionally what it is they did to warrant a visit from him.

they could've stolen. maybe they betrayed; that is a popular motivation. lovers' quarrels--he knows what it is to die for love, but dying for love at the wrong end of his rifle isn't in marriage vows. maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time; maybe they saw what they shouldn't have, and it was enough for a visit from their guardian angel.

sometimes he thinks that what he does is at their mercy; because if he didn't do it, if he didn't make it so quick, so easy, they would suffer. at least this way, by his hand, they would never know. he brings comfort. ease.

it is the same with you, it has to be. he closes his fist and bangs on the outside of your door. the wood rattles under the force, and when you open the door, the look that you give him only solidifies his assumption. if it wasn't him keeping you, then it would be someone else. someone else would look into those eyes, and they would take from you, but they wouldn't be like him. he takes, and he will take, but you won't know that you are empty until it's too late.

that is merciful, isn't it? this kind of love is forgiving, right? the kind that shields, the white lies that protect, that blindfold that hides--this is humane. he is a thing, a predator, yes, but he isn't like the others.

right?

you step aside, and he has to maneuver his shoulders to make it past the narrow doorway. as you close the door, your eyes linger. he wears a dark rain jacket over a long sleeve, dark cargo pants tucked into heavy boots. he wears a holster on one meaty thigh, but it only holds a small pack there. his balaclava is plain, hiding all but his dark eyes, and the hood of his jacket casts a long shadow over him. the gloves he wears are of a utility variety--he worked today. if you ask him, he will say yes, but he will not tell you anything else.

sometimes, you aren't sure if he just doesn't care or if he is trying to protect you from some ugly truth. but then you remember that there are no ugly truths with ghost; the truth is as it is, nothing more and nothing less, and if he hides it from you, it is because you simply don't need to know.

you lock the door behind you, leaning against it. he moves through your apartment with ease. he has been here before, but it feels as if he has always been here. he knows how to rattle the balcony door to get the lock to free, and you don't remember showing him how to unlatch it. you busy yourself with putting the kettle to boil as you see him light a match, a cigarette between two gloved fingers.

it's a nasty vice. it blackens the lungs, shrinks the organ, addicts the user. but it tastes good. and it feels good. and it isn't what will kill him, because this isn't real.

you come outside, a mug of tea in your hand, and you set it down beside him. he flicks ash off the cigarette, spreading his legs wide as he sits there, watching the street below. it's quiet because it's raining, and while the balcony is covered, it wets the toes of his boots.

he looks so good. he spreads himself out in the chair, taking up so much space, and his hand that doesn't hold the cigarette is spread out along his thigh, running absentmindedly down the material of his pants. it's hard to describe the breadth of him--ghost is just big. his hands, the height of him, the space that you can tuck yourself into his chest. he could curl you around his arm, wrap you up with both of them, trap you there. you don't hate the thought of that, the idea of him keeping you there like that. you think about the width of his hand, how it might look with the black of his glove spread out across your throat, holding you there, keeping you there.

you think about what it would be like to be under his mercy. his control. to feel the press of those fingers against the hollow of your throat, knowing he could crush your windpipe with just one perfectly placed squeeze. he would know where to touch. he would know where to tug just right to cut the air off.

it's too bad you didn't know you already belonged to him.

"can i have some?"

you nod to the cigarette burning in his hand. his eyes flicker up to look at you for a moment before he adjusts in the chair. he shrugs finally.

"'f you want."

you put a hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself to sit on his lap. you wear nothing except for a loose shirt, one that covers you to your thighs, but when you sit, it rides up. he takes the weight of you easily, not looking strained in the slightest, one arm supporting the thickness of your thighs with a firm grasp.

you lean forward a little, into him, and he brings the cigarette to your lips. you wrap your lips around it, taking a breath. you want to revel in that fact that you're putting your lips around something his own have touched, and then you start to cough.

the air burns. you turn your head to the side and wheeze; you hear a condescending chuckle, and you go warm with embarrassment. but his hand rubs small circles into your back, coaxing the smoke out of your lungs. you take in a few strong breaths to clear the smoke, and then you look away from him.

"not a smoker, eh?"

"that was...my first time."

when your head turns back to face him shyly, he tilts his head to the side. you cannot see any of his expression, but you imagine he's curious. the way his eyes look you up and down tell you that much.

"wot, you saw me do it, 'n ya think y'can take it?"

you don't respond, just keep your eyes on his. your fingers move, spreading across the solidity of his chest, and you rest them there. you lean in a little more, your face only a few mere inches from his own, and it gives you an opportunity to examine him so close.

his mask is weathered, the skull mouth painted along the mouth a little faded and messy with wear. he smells like cigarettes and earth, wet soil and ash and something warm. the eye-black that is smeared across his eyes fades out at the edges, and the paleness of his skin peeks out a little. you know the black covers the tiredness under his eyes, the lines that must be set in his face from how much he frowns. he has blonde lashes and dark eyes, and what intrigues you the most is that you can see the jagged edge of a healed scar peeking out from under the fabric that hides him.

he frowns, and you see the furrowing of the skin underneath. you meet his eyes again, and it feels surreal to see him in this much detail. you don't think this is a common occurrence; you have a feeling that anyone that has ever gotten this close to him did not live to talk about it the next day.

he has never told you, but you know death follows him. you have never seen what war has done to him, you can't see the rough skin and the patches where skin has been shredded or torn off, but you know, sitting so close to him, that he leaves bodies behind him and terrifies the ones that approach.

you wonder if you should be afraid, but then you remember that if he wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now. he does not want to kill you.

he wants to eat you.

you have asked him once what he does for work. he said he used to work for the military, but he didn't say anymore. when you asked what he did now, he said he was an independent contractor.

a contractor for what, you did not get the answer to. just that he was his own boss now, and no one told him what to do anymore.

"what did you do today?" you ask him finally, reaching up timidly and slipping a thumb down the line of his strong jaw.

"work."

"and how was it?"

he does not answer, and your eyes flicker back up to his, studying his reaction. he doesn't give one, just eyes the line of your throat as you swallow hard.

"a good pay day then?" you ask, and he hums at that. you smile a little, reaching up with both hands and cupping his masked cheeks gently. "must be good at what you do."

his face flickers a bit at that. he sniffs, looking to the side before back at you, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. one of his big hands comes up and slips up the shirt you wear, gripping your ass firm.

"good at other things, too," is all he says, and you smooth one of your thumbs down the row of painted teeth along the mouth of the mask. his breath comes out warm under your thumb.

"like killing people?"

his hand stiffens against you, and he glares up at you. a huff of a breath comes out, and you tense a little. he flicks the cigarette onto the ground, reaching up with that hand and gripping you around the jaw. your face fits nicely in his hand, and you might enjoy it if it wasn't so aggressive, the way he touched you. he shakes you a little, bringing you close enough that you can feel the wetness of his snarl against your lips.

"that wot y'think i am? some kind o'murderer?" he spits. "think 'm some kind o'fuckin' killer?"

a wave of tears prick the sides of your eyes, and you grip his wrist tight, trying to keep the pressure off of you.

"i know what you do," you whisper. "i know what you do, it's pretty obvious."

"yeah? 'n ya think it's a good idea to fuckin' talk t'me this way? ask me questions you don't want the answers to?"

you narrow your eyes, and you stare back at him, matching the intensity of his own. this makes him laugh; there is no humor in his laugh, but he laughs, and he rattles your whole head as he brings you close enough that your lips brush against the fabric of his mask.

"oh...you want me to tell ya...want me to spill all my bloody secrets..." he growls. you let out a whine when he brings you even closer, smashing your lips against the front of his mask. you choke out a whimper, and you swear you feel his tongue trying to find yours through the barrier. "think y'can handle the lot like me, bunny, and you can't. blood on m'ledger would fuckin' drown you."

and it is the truth, he knows it is, and he wouldn't lie to you because he just doesn't fucking care enough to think up a lie. he didn't serve so many years, he didn't give so much time to what he thought was righteous to come home and paint war as a pretty picture to civilians like you. war is blood, war is loss, war is what takes and takes and takes from a man, until they are things. until they come home and realize they have no idea what they were fighting for when they seem the same dirty streets they left behind.

when their brothers still get killed. when their families still come apart. when their lovers betray them, when they break their hearts--when they realize they are glorified weapons for the politicians that don't care about them, that send them away to die, that refuse to support them when they come home without the goodness that they left with.

he gave his entire life up for this. they took his family, they took the only half of him that mattered, and what was it for? nothing waits for him at home. there is no one in his bed, there is no one to call, there was no money in the bank.

there is only the memories that manifest into nightmares, and the blue sky that reminds him of blue eyes. the blue eyes that he could not save, the blue eyes that haunt him, that ask him, desperately--let the bonnie lass go, LT. you cannae save'er.

but he is a lieutenant, and he was a sergeant, and he didn't take fucking orders from anyone anymore anyways.

you are his, and you look so pretty in that cage. pretty enough to eat. pretty enough to take away. pretty enough to poison, because he thinks maybe this is the only way to make himself feel better.

he wants to see your blood run just as black as his own. misery loves company, they say, and it would please him, the selfish thing that he is, to see you just as ugly inside as he is.

"but you want it," he says, and your eyes flick back to meet his. you don't smile, but your gaze doesn't falter. you just stare back at him, and he laughs again, because he sees something he recognizes there. something inhuman, something a little feral. it is inside you.

and he wants it out.

he stands, leaning over you. you're forced to walk backwards, and he doesn't stop until you're back inside. he closes the balcony door behind him, putting a hand on your chest before forcing you backwards with a firm push. the back of your knees hit the couch, and you squeak as you fall back against it.

you almost think he's going to pounce on you. rip your panties to fabric shreds, spread you wide, and fuck you into the cushions. you think he's going to take from you, because that is what predators do, but you're almost taken back by the sight of him lowering to his knees.

he's kneeling. this behemoth of a thing kneels in front of you, and you yelp with a start when he grips you by the back of your knees and yanks you forward, manhandling you until he has your legs tossed over his shoulders. he grunts as he pushes the shirt up to expose your cotton panties, a soft red pair that you know he will ruin when he's done with you.

your back arches as he buries the front of his mask against your cunt, taking a deep breath through the mask. it's filthy, the way he takes in the scent of you, and if you were sane, you would push him away, the nasty thing he is. but you don't--the gesture floods your insides with need, and you squirm in his grip.

"stay still, little rabbit," he says, but it's a demand. he moves one hand further up your thighs, and you whimper softly when his thumb squishes the slit of you through your panties. his eyes brighten when he notices the fabric darkening as soon as he does this, a growing wet spot dampening your underwear. "look at 'er...drippin'...you hungry, luv?"

"uh...ngghhh..."

"oh, fer fuck's sake, haven't even got m'mouth on ya, and y'can't speak already?"

he laughs, because he is mean, because he is a thing that just wants and takes, and what he wants is between your thighs, and you are easy. you want to be more of a challenge; you want to make him work for it, but his eyes flicker up to meet your own, and there is nothing you can do. there is something said whenever your eyes are on each other--you have no idea what it is, but it tames him, and it keeps you.

"he woulda loved you," he says suddenly. you frown, opening your mouth to say something, to ask who he is, but his index finger pulls your panties aside, and he buries his masked face into the wet seam of your pretty pussy.

you cry out at the feeling, your thighs closing around his head instinctively. your back bows even further, a taut, imaginary string being pulled inside of you, and ghost laughs again, because you're so warm and cute and needy. he pushes his face further into you, nuzzling his nose into the place where he knows your clit is, and he draws the most delicious moans out of you. he smiles under the mask when one of your shaking hands grips the back of his head, pushing him deeper, his mask soaking with the slick of you.

he continues the torture for a time unknown. your brain isn't working; you have no concept of time. all you can think about is the way your legs shake and the grip your hands have on the back of his head as you grind your hips up into him. your eyes flutter open and closed, and you push your shirt up a little so he can see your nipples harden with how much everything aches for him.

it feels so good. he grunts, and then a low groan leaves him when you maneuver his head, shoving his nose up against your clit again and slanting your hips up and into him. you're getting off on this--fucking the front of his mask to feel something, to feel this thing you have been chasing for your entire life.

you saw it in him the first time you met him. the knowing when your eyes met for the first time--whatever it is that you have been chasing for your entire life, it is in him, and you need it.

the thing that poets chase. the rush that a high brings. the missing half of you, the warmth of a love you've never had, the shape of something in your cunt that you know he can fill.

you think you might faint when you feel his tongue finally. you can't see his face; he hides it with a wet mask, but his tongue is inside of you now, and you can't help the crying moans that leave you as he laps at your folds like a thirsty dog. maybe he is thirsty--you can hear the lewd, deep swallowing sounds he makes as he tightens his grip on your thighs and bobs his head in time with your stuttering, pleasure-chasing hips.

he drinks. he drinks you insane. his tongue suckles at your clit, then lets it go with a filthy pop to swirl inside your tightening cunt and eat the pretty bunny he has been thinking about far too much. when he works, before he sleeps, in the shower, in the mirror as he covers the scars of him that he never wants to share anymore. the taste of you is enough to distract him--here, between your thighs, your sweetness in his mouth and your moans filling his ears, he doesn't think about anything else. it's impossible. he has been chasing the void for a long time, and all he had to do was eat a pretty girl to get to it?

he knows it now, has decided it already. your cunt is redemption, and he will lose himself in it to make it reality.

"ghost! please!"

your cries shatter his resolve. he folds you in half as he leans over you now, his hands sliding up your soft stomach before he grips the weight of your breasts in his rough hands and squeezes firmly. you whine, cry, moan, beg--you beg for more, for him to please, please, please--! it feels so good, i want it! i want you, i want it all, i want--i want--what does she want?

me? the thing? what isn't real? because ghost knows that if he gives in, it is over. he signs something away, and he has done this before, and suddenly he is afraid.

when he did this before, he was left something else. he is afraid of what will happen the next time. what will happen to him, what might become of him, because what he is now terrifies his reflection, and he has no idea what it'll do.

"please! please! please!"

but you're crying, and you taste so good. and as he laves into the prettiest pussy he's ever had, the sweetest, he remembers why he is here. he isn't here because he loves you. he isn't here because he cares, he isn't here because it is good.

he is here because whatever he is needs a new host, and you are what it wants. soft, pretty, naïve--you have let it inside, and now he will eat and chew and bite until he sucks something out of you.

maybe the good. maybe blood. but it doesn't matter.

he slides his hands back down, using both thumbs to spread your folds apart, and he pulls back to look at you. you're a sloppy mess, your little hole puckering and pulsing, your clit a throbbing bud that begs him to stop teasing. he looks up at where you're a whimpering, crying thing, tears sliding down your puffy cheeks, and he snarls before he leans down and spits right on your clit, watching it drip into your cunt and swirl between what seeps from you.

"say it."

"nnh...huh?"

"say who you belong to."

when you take a moment to answer, he leans down and licks a fat stripe over your clit, making you sob. you reach down, cupping the underside of his jaw. it's bare, and your soft hands glide over the scarred skin there. it is the first time he doesn't flinch.

"you--you!"

"say it."

"b-belong to you..."

the moonlight is blue when he makes you come. his lips wrap around your clit and suckle soft, and when he knows you're coming, he opens his mouth, hinging a strong jaw so he can swallow what drips from you and take in mouthfuls of it. there is a glare over you, a blue light that shines over your sweaty, shivering body, and ghost nearly bites.

as if the blue eyes he can't keep out of his head, the blue eyes that follow him everywhere he goes, are mocking him for taking the thing he knows he shouldn't have. he's telling him to leave you. that there's still time to let you go. that what he has in his hands, what he has at his mercy, is too soft and too pretty and too gentle to be touched by what he will bring to her doorstep.

you sit up on your elbows, half-lidded, face wet with your tears. ghost almost believes the blue that washes over you, but then his eyes meet yours, and it is over. you're smiling.

this is acceptance. because you know what he is. you know what he does. the gun on him is real. the black in his eyes isn't a trick of the light. the poison spreading in his veins isn't just a sickness, it is a cancer, and this will kill him, and it is contagious.

you cup his face, bringing him up, letting him crowd the space between your legs as he leans over you.

he would care. he wants to care. and when he kisses you, sealing your fate, he remembers, suddenly. the blue moonlight is gone.

and this isn't real.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!simon

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pit-and-the-pen · 3 months

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When Things Come Back to Haunt You

I finally finished this request: to the anon that requested, I’m so sorry how long it took, my brain was not letting write angst.

Summary: When Azriel hurts his mate in the war, guilt eats him alive.

Wc: 2.6k

Warnings: character injury and near death.

Azriel tried his best to focus on the events unfolding around him. The last wave of Hybern soldiers were still coming down around them and all he could focus on was the fact that he could only watch as your body slipped into the crowd right out of his view. He sent a sharp tug on that golden thread and felt nothing but a solid wall. She blocked him out. His skin crawled at the thought. He wouldn’t be able to know if you were okay. He sent out another powerful blast of his siphon, taking down three hybern soldiers and ran off after you. Wave after wave kept coming. Everytime he would catch a glimpse of you, you seemed to slip off again.

Azriel knew you could handle yourself, he had trained you personally. But that didn’t stop the utter panic that was consuming him the longer you two were separated.

The bodies slowly thinned down to the few remaining stragglers and he finally was able to catch up with you. Going to shout your name as he saw your sword cleave through a line of enemy soldiers. You were surrounded on all sides, the two you took down in front of you only distracting you from the ones behind you. Azriel shouted out your name. Lost over the sounds of the commotion around them. The words get carried away in the wind.

He surges forward with Truth Teller, running through fae with no regard. He had to get to you. He could have reached forward and pushed you out of the way but all he could do was yell your name again. You were still fighting off the bodies in front of you.

He watched, almost frozen in horror, as one of the figures behind you surged to swing their own sword right into your back.

“Get down!” Azriel shouted and he could only watch in horror as you turned at the sound of his voice,a small smile graced your face before the power of his siphon blasted into you. You took the brunt of the power of his siphon to the center of your chest. You collapsed like a rag doll, legs crumpling underneath you. The scream that ripped through him left his ears ringing. He didn’t care that your would-be attacker was on the ground unmoving besides you. All the sounds of the battle faded away as he rushed to get to you. You had to be breathing. You had to be alive. He would have felt it. Felt that precious golden bond snap. Wouldn't he? But your shields were still up, still blocking him up.

He was finally able to get his arms around you. It wasn’t the triumphant reunion that he thought the two of you would get. Your face was bleeding, sliced up in the impact. Your arm was twisted at an unnatural angle. He pressed his ear to your chest. He wanted to cry with relief when he heard the tell tale beating. But it was weak. Forcing itself to beat against the force of power you had absorbed,

He scooped you up in his arms, no longer caring about the events around him. He had done his fair share. The King of Hybern was dead and the others could clean up the rest of his soldiers that kept pushing on. His mind was racing as he rushed to the only place he could think to take you. The tent that Rhys had set up was far enough away that he cursed himself. Cursed himself for not taking note of where any of the healing tents were. Even if he got you to a healers tent it was no guarantee that they would be available to help you. No amount of threatening would force a healer to help if they are already up to their elbows in injuries.

He flew you to Rhys’ tent in record time. He didn’t even process that his brother was already laid out on the floor. He could only focus on your slowing heartbeat.

“Help her.” How he could even speak at this moment was beyond him. The words didn’t register in his mind, he didn’t even realize that he shouted them. He felt your weight leave his arms and he lunged to attack the source. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep him restrained and he fought to push them off as well.

“Calm down. Az, you’re going to hurt her.” The voice of his brother, Cassian, filled his ears. He willed his mind to take in the words, His heart sank.

“I already did.” He choked on the words. He had hurt his mate. Had nearly killed you. The one person he was supposed to keep safe. He felt the hot tears sliding down his face. His body went limp as the fight drained out of him. He kept tugging on the bond, searching for any part of you that he could hold onto. Nothing. Just that same wall that blocked him out.

The healer got right to work on you. Chanting over you with their eyes closed. The light haired healer gasped quietly, muttering words to herself as she went to collect something from the numerous bags that littered the tent.

“What are you doing?” He shouted to the healer. The female flinched before taking a deep breath.

“ Either calm down or get out. I cannot heal her if you’re shouting at me everytime I move. I will kick you out of this tent.” She bit back. Azriel felt the growl leave his chest and suddenly he was being yanked outside by Cassian.

Azriel roughly shook off the touch and went to enter again. A hand on his shoulder stopped his movements.

“Azriel. Stop.”

“I can’t! I nearly killed her, Cassian. I can’t just leave her alone.”

“What happened?” Cassian all but whispered. Azriel could only shake his head like it would remove the memory from him. The look of your smile before you were thrown back. His throat felt tight, he couldn’t breathe as he replayed the scene again and again.

Cassian was shaking him lightly. As he got pulled back to the present, he felt the tremors rack through his body. His knees threatening to give out under him.

“I can’t lose her. Cas, this can’t be how I lose her.” He couldn’t stop the sobs that left him. He sunk down to his knees. Not caring about the mud that shifted under his weight. His wings drooped closer to the wet earth. Cassian swore softly from behind him before he joined him on the ground. His brothers arms wrapped around his neck and pulled his into a tight hug. Azriel felt his whole body tense before he returned the hug. Clutching to the only suppor6 Cassian could offer in this moment.

The healer worked on you for what felt like hours. Eventually the healer rushed out, pushing the flap of the tent open.

“You’re her mate right?” She spoke almost too fast for Azriel to catch the sudden question.

He could only nod.

“Then I need your blood. Right now. Come.” She pulled on his wrist. He didn’t move at first as her words sunk in but then he was tripping over himself to get to you. He didn’t know he knew but you were dying. Your skin had lost the flush look from exertion, instead you had a slight sheen of sweat sticking to your skin.

“Hand.” The healer demanded. Azriel’s body didn’t feel like his as he extended it to the healer. He didn’t even flinch as she dragged a small dagger across half of his palm. He watched as the small stream of red pooled up along the cut. The healer guided his hand to your mouth, squeezing your cheeks slightly to part your lips. He watched as a single drop pooled out of your mouth. The healer wrapped his hand quickly before dismissing him. He couldn’t move. Feet rooted to the spot as the healer pressed her ear against your chest. She cursed loudly and Azriel felt like something in his chest has cleaved him in half.

“What’s happeni-”

“Get out. Now.” She all but growled at him. And there was something in her voice that made his legs follow her orders.

Your heart had stopped. That is what he learned within the next few minutes. Twice. The healer restarted your heart twice. And twice Azriel could do nothing but stand around as he felt like it was to lose you. More of his family had joined him now. Mor was inside the tent, assisting the healer. Cassian was trying his best to distract him from the twisted mess his mind was at this moment but even through his grief, he could tell not even Cassian knew what to say to make this better. Azriel was sitting with his knees curled up to his chest as the healer came out again. His heart sank at the look on her face.

She held up a small hand to him, a silent request for him to stay still.

“She’s stable. Her body is healing slowly. But the blood did its job. She’s lucky she has you or she would be dead right now.”

Mercifully, your eyes started to blink open. A rough breath pushed through your mouth as you tried to sit up. Azriel’s hand was on your shoulder instantly, urging you to lay back down. His heart broke when he heard a small whimper of pain from you at the contact. He withdrew his hand quickly. Pulling them both onto his lap. The tent was slightly too small for him, his wings tucked in tight against his body. It was difficult to sit without touching you, both because of his desperate need to feel your skin under his hands and because of the tight space.

You looked at him and he instantly felt sick to his stomach at the pure joy across your features. The warmth he felt tinting the edge of the bond that you finally opened up.

He couldn’t sit there and stomach your love for a second longer.

“Rhys will find you a new apartment. And I can start packing your stuff the moment I leave.” Azriel forced the words out. Breaking the silence in the tent. Your eyes widened at his words.

“Why would I need a new place to live?” The rasp in your voice hit him in the face. Your words didn’t make sense to him.

“I almost killed you. You were… your heart stopped twice. All because I couldn’t protect you.”

“Az-”

“No. You will never be put in danger by me. Never again.”

He watched as your face contorted with pain as you tried to sit up. The blanket across your chest slipped a little and he saw the hint of a scar marring your skin. An angry lighting like pattern, cutting across the mark of your mating bond right above your heart. You followed his eyeline and pulled the blanket tighter around yourself.

“Don’t you want to hear what I think?”

“N-”

“I think you saved my life. I was surrounded by soldiers. If you hadn't taken out the one behind me, he was going to kill me.”

“But I al-”

“This is war Azriel. People get hurt.”

“Not by me. Not you. This isn’t up for discussion.”

——————————//——————————

Azriel had managed to keep his distance while you healed. Moving you into your old room despite your amend demands that you would sleep in your shared bedroom. It was harder to avoid you once you started to be able to get around by yourself, no longer requiring assistance from Cassian or Mor. You somehow always found your way into the room he was occupying. Never speaking, you had figured out that speaking would have him all but running out of the room. Azriel felt every single tug from your side of the bond, could practically taste the way you were begging for him to talk to you. As much as it killed him to deny you, Azriel would not allow himself to be that selfish. His skin was crawling with the urge to touch you, to kiss your soft lips and play with the loose curls of your hair. He missed the pressure of your hand intertwined with his. He was sleeping like shit, he had grown so accustomed to your presence that he no longer could sleep without you. But he also had the image of his power hitting you burned into his memory. The scar on your chest would be a reminder enough.

You would not budge on your choice to stay in your house. Despite his best efforts, Rhys would not force you to move out. His brother, his high lord, would not order you to move out even if Azriel thought he was doing it for your protection. So Azriel hid like a child. Avoiding you in your very own home. But he could never fully escape you. You were everywhere in the house, if not psychically, then in the pictures on the wall, on Azriel's favorite pillow that you had gotten him. There was not a place in the house that he could distance himself from you and it was killing him.

It took two weeks to the day from when you moved back to the house that you broke. You had walked into the small nook of a library and Azriel softly put his book down and tried to slink out of the room. His shadows had drawn close to him but you had no problem reaching your hand out and closing it around his arm. You pulled him closer to you and his shadows immediately disappeared. He stood there, watching your chest rise and fall. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out of your grasp, savoring your touch before he would be denied it again.

“Az…”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Me? You don’t do this.” You felt your anger from the last few weeks building up.

Azriels face twisted, looking so pained that you couldn’t help the hand that reached out to try to brush his cheeks. He leaned in for a second before jumping away like you had burned him. Tears formed in your eyes as he tried to slink off again.

“If you don’t love me anymore, at least have the decency to tell me instead of avoiding me.” Your voice cracked and Azriel froze. His shadows wrapped around your arms, a ghost of a touch but not the one you wanted.

“I love you so much, that’s the problem. I almost watched you die. I did watch you die. In case you forget your heart stopped two times.”

“You cannot protect me from everything.”

“But I should be able to.”

“You’re so insistent on keeping me safe but did you ever sit and think about what I want?”

Azriel’s face dropped, giving you the answer you needed.

“I love you, no matter how much you wish I didn’t. I will be here until you figure that out. You’re the love of my life, my mate. I waited three hundred years for you and if you think I’m giving that all up-“

Your words were cut off by his lips crashing against yours. For the first time since the accident, you felt his side of the bond open up and the flood of emotions almost knocked your knees out from underneath you. His hand came to rest on the small of your back and yours rested against his face. The stubble on his chin tickled underneath your fingers. The kiss was slow, a building inferno that did nothing to satisfy the fire roaring in your veins.

You both pulled away gasping, his forehead resting on yours.

“Don’t ever leave me.” He whispered so softly that you almost missed it.

“Never.” You pulled his lips back to yours and flooded the bond with all the love you could. Happy to have your mate back

#azriel angst #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames

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ginnsbaker · 7 months

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (1/?)

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat. Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.” Or the one where you fall in love with the widow of an ex-lover you never knew was married.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6k+ | Warnings: None for now | A/N: I wrote about 30k words of the Succession Wanda but hit a wall in terms of plot progression. So that's on hold. Allow me to apologize with this two-shot. P.S. I've always wanted to write for Leigh, and this idea came out of nowhere. Loosely based on canon.

Masterlist | Next Part

Leigh wakes up in a bed that’s not hers for the first time in months, and the unfamiliar scent of freshly cut grass and cedarwood almost immediately overwhelms her senses, suffocating her with its cloying sweetness.

“Jules?” she croaks out, her mind clawing its way through the fog. When it lifts a few seconds later, Leigh realizes where she is and what she’s done.

And how she’s very, very naked underneath the sheets.

The person lying next to her in the bed starts to move. Right away, she knows it's not her sister, unless she's somehow caught up in a prank she doesn't find amusing at all. And so, she braces herself for her dead husband’s brother's voice to shatter the silence.

But it never comes. Instead, an arm drapes itself across her stomach, pulling her towards warmth. Leigh gets the sudden urge to vomit, except she skipped dinner and there isn’t anything to bring up. Last night, in a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Matt's absence, she had reached out to someone she shouldn't have. Someone Leigh didn’t even like to begin with. A knot tightens further in her stomach as she considers what her husband’s ghost would think.

Would he approve? Would he feel betrayed or disgusted as she does?

Careful not to disturb Danny, who still sleeps soundly beside her, Leigh slips out of bed with the grace of a cat. She gathers her clothes from the floor and dresses herself with heavy limbs, each garment reminding her of how Danny had taken them off her body.

As messed up as it sounds, Leigh can't help but draw parallels between him and Matt. They share the same blood, but there's not a single trait in Danny that triggers memories of Matt. With Danny, it's all about his own desires, his movements reflecting his wants. But with Matt, it's like he's always bending to Leigh’s will, submitting to her.

It tears Leigh’s heart anew.

As she finishes dressing, Leigh glances around searching for her watch. She second-guesses whether she even wore it last night, the disarray of her thoughts mirrored in the disarray of the room. Her eyes scan the bedside table, the floor, and the dresser, but there's no sign of the timepiece.

A sudden sound from Danny startles her, and she freezes in place. She doesn't believe she can prevent herself from literally bolting out of the house if he so much as breathes her name. She’s rooted in her spot however, waiting for his breathing to steady, her heart pounding in her ears. Only when she's certain he's in a deep slumber does she release a pent-up breath, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. In that moment, she mentally curses herself once more, acutely aware of the mess she's created, before tiptoeing towards the bedroom door and abandoning the search for her watch altogether.

As she considers her options, she entertains the idea of escaping town altogether. Maybe if she leaves, she can avoid Danny for the coming days, possibly forever. Leigh wonders if she ever made Matt feel this trapped, inadvertently pushing him to leave in the only way he knew she could never follow.

Several days after ignoring Danny’s calls and attempts to talk to her, he retaliates by telling her the most absurd thing about his brother.

He tells Leigh she wasn’t the only one. There had been two others in the last year.

And the last one, he fell for hard. Or at least that’s what Danny believes.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, her eyes beginning to sting a little. “If you think making me hate Matt would change my mind about us, then—”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, Leigh,” Danny interrupts calmly, shaking his head. “I just believe you deserve to know the truth. Maybe it'll help you stop blaming yourself and move on.”

“It just seems a little too convenient that this 'truth' works in your favor to tarnish Matt's reputation, doesn't it?” Leigh points out with a humorless smile. She’s always thought the worst of Danny, but she never imagined he’d go as far as fabricating a story just to get her on his side.

“I understand your skepticism, I do. I couldn’t believe it at first either,” he says, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the transgression he’s confessing were his own, not Matt’s. “But think about it. Have you ever walked in on Matt just as he's ending a call? Noticed how he's suddenly started spending more time at work, consistently twice a week? And what about his sudden interest in going to the gym and being conscious about what he eats? These are all signs, Leigh.”

His words push her to think about it, even though she doesn't want to. Leigh starts to reflect on how Matt had stopped leaving his phone unattended during showers, how he had suddenly logged off his social media accounts from her laptop, or the noticeable enhancement of his physique—all juxtaposed against a lingering decrease in his appetite for intimacy with his wife.

“I…” Leigh hesitates, searching for a rebuttal but finding none. Then Danny gives her a look—one of pity and longing that makes her want to crawl out of her skin—and suddenly she finds herself vehemently denying all of it.

“I still don’t believe you,” she says, desperately clinging to the last shreds of the illusion she had crafted around her marriage.

Danny's expression remains unreadable and it drives her further up the wall. “Fine. Believe what you want, Leigh. I'm just trying to look out for you.”

Leigh's jaw tightens. “Regardless of what you say—whether it’s real or not—I know what I want, and it's not to be with you.”

He keeps up the stony facade, opting instead to pull a card out of his wallet and hand it to her. Leigh accepts the card, her fingers quivering, as a solitary tear finally breaks free and trails down her cheek.

Danny begins to reach out, intending to brush away her tear, but hesitates at the last moment, withdrawing his hand.

“See for yourself. Goodbye, Leigh.”

Just two days later, Leigh finds herself in front of the small animal clinic you own, situated a short walk away from Beautiful Beast—the fitness studio her mom owns and where she works.

Though the sun hangs low in the sky, she's been awake long before it began to rise. She waits for the receptionist to flip the sign from “Sorry, we’re closed” to “Come in, we’re open,” ignoring the curious glance directed her way when the receptionist notices she isn’t accompanied by a furry companion. With a determined smile on her lips, Leigh pushes open the door and steps into the clinic knowing she'll leave it with answers—whatever they might be.

The receptionist looks up from her computer, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern when she sees the look on Leigh's face. “Can I help you?”

Leigh clears her throat, trying to steady her voice. She tells her she’s looking for you, her words coming out in a rush.

The receptionist furrows her brow. “Do you have an appointment?”

Leigh shakes her head, blinking rapidly as she comes up with an excuse. “No, it's... it's urgent,” she stammers. “I need to speak to her right away.”

The receptionist appears mildly annoyed, but it doesn’t faze Leigh in the slightest. “I'll check if she's available. Please take a seat,” she says.

Leigh nods mutely and sinks into one of the chairs. She clasps her hands together tightly in her lap, trying to quell the rising tide of panic threatening to consume her. She imagines Matt’s ghost watching her this very second, frowning at her doubts about their relationship by coming here in the first place.

And what if she’s wrong? What if Matt wasn’t cheating on her after all? But Leigh had to come here to put the issue to rest. Matt would understand why she needs to do this. He always did.

A few moments later, the door behind the reception desk opens and the receptionist emerges from it, motioning for Leigh to enter.

Leigh finds you standing behind your desk, your back to her, arranging a stack of medical records on the shelf.

“Dr. Y/N?” Leigh calls out softly.

You turn around at the sound of her voice, and when she sees you for the first time, Leigh immediately knows.

Danny was telling the truth. It takes everything in her not to break down in front of a stranger her husband fell in love with.

You, however, don’t recognize the woman standing before you, thinking perhaps she's simply one of your past clients. You offer Leigh a contrite smile. “You wanted to see me? Miss…?”

“Leigh Shaw.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell either, but you keep a friendly smile on your face.

Leigh hesitates for a moment before continuing, her voice sounding fragile. “I need to talk to you about my husband,” she says, studying your clueless face. You're stunning and accomplished—a doctor and a businesswoman. You have a smile that could brighten even the darkest room.

Matt never stood a chance, did he?

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat.

Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.”

After leaving your clinic, Leigh heads straight to Matt’s grave, stomping angrily on the sparse sheet of grass that has begun to sprout from his resting place.

“You're such a fucking liar!” she spits out at the unsusceptible headstone, the heat of fury spreading through her veins and to every molecule in her body. The cold wind lashes through her hair as Leigh drops to her knees, feeling like the entire world is bearing down on her. She reaches out to touch the cold marble of the headstone, still seeking solace from the one who caused her so much hurt.

“Why, Matt?”

She knows there will be no answers—only the cold silence of death.

Leigh feels a surge of anger rise within her once more as she recalls the way you looked at her—the pain in your eyes when she revealed to you that Matt had died. What you two had was real, as real as what she had with him. She had been hoping it was at least just a fling, but alas, she couldn’t be further from her assumptions.

“I can't believe I ever loved you,” Leigh mutters bitterly. She wants to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all. But all she can do is clutch at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the earth as if trying to anchor herself against the torrent of pain crippling her chest. Tears stream down her face as she finally collapses to the ground, assuming a fetal position, whispering, “I can't believe I still do.”

You continue to stare at the space that Leigh previously occupied for a good ten minutes, not moving an inch from where you stood—shocked, hurt, confused. Matt, the man you had been seeing, was dead. And not just dead, but married. Married to someone else, someone named Leigh Shaw, a name so important but he managed to hide from you for weeks.

Matt had never mentioned a wife, never wore a ring, never hinted at the existence of someone waiting for him at home. If he had, you would never have let him get as close to you like he did. You've always respected boundaries and families—and now you've discovered that unwittingly, you've destroyed one.

Leigh's departure was swift, just as soon as you confessed to having feelings for her husband and how Matt reciprocated those same feelings. Leigh, ruthless in her questioning, demanded to know if you had slept with Matt. You swore you never did, detailing how Matt abruptly ghosted you after your first kiss, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and missed calls.

You wanted so badly for Leigh to believe you, and you think she did. However, none of it mattered in the end. He cheated all the same. He hurt the woman he made a promise to love and stay faithful to.

Because of you.

You feel sickened by your own naivety; by the way you have allowed yourself to be fooled by his lies. And yet, amidst the anger and self-recrimination, there is a profound sense of loss. Despite the circumstances of your relationship, you had cared for Matt deeply. Maybe even loved him.

But how much of it was real? How much of it was not about him running from his problems with his wife and using you as a distraction? The ease with which he slipped out of your life suddenly fits into place.

While his passing deeply rattled you, it's now largely overshadowed by thoughts of his widow.

Leigh Shaw.

Earlier, even though you said sorry over and over, it felt like it wasn't enough, and you wanted to do more to make her feel better. What stopped you was the realization that you're likely the last person she would want comfort from. A sense of helplessness washes over you as you come to the conclusion that there's nothing you can do to undo the damage that's been done. Matt is gone, and Leigh's world has been shattered in ways you can't even begin to imagine.

Moving on from Matt is something you know you could do. He wasn’t the first person to break your heart, be it through deceit or demise. But the situation with Leigh is unfamiliar territory.

How do you fix this for her?

Will she even let you?

When Leigh tells Jules about Matt’s infidelity, her sister fixates on the detail that she slept with Danny. It’s not the response Leigh expected. She anticipated shock, and maybe even a bit of outrage on her behalf. But instead, Jules latches onto the one detail that seems to pale in comparison to the enormity of Matt's betrayal.

“But how could you?” Jules asks, her voice incredulous as she chews on a dumpling. “How could you sleep with Danny?”

Faced with her sister's disapproval, Leigh finds herself clamming up. “Are you kidding? I just told you that Matt was cheating on me, and your response is to judge me for hooking up with a single guy while I'm single?” Leigh retorts, hastily wiping her lips with a napkin.

Jules just shakes her head, putting down her chopsticks. “Leigh, I get it. Matt’s betrayal is awful, and you have every right to be angry. But the ‘single guy’ you hooked up with isn't just any guy, and you know it. You don't think it's weird? What would people think? That all this time, sleeping with your husband’s brother has always been an option?”

Leigh's eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she's speechless. She hadn't—didn't want to entertain the idea of what sleeping with Danny would imply. She was chasing a feeling; any feeling that wasn’t emptiness. And with Danny, she did feel something, even if it was regret and shame. At least it proved she was still capable of feeling at all.

“It… just happened,” Leigh murmurs, rubbing her temples. Hollowness and migraines, she's almost forgotten.

“And? Is it going to be a ‘thing’?” Jules probes, eyebrows raised.

Leigh lifts her gaze, biting back a defensive retort. Instead she simply says, “Absolutely not.”

Jules seems satisfied with that, knocking back the rest of her beer. “Good.”

But as Jules moves on, Leigh’s left stewing in her own thoughts. Telling Jules felt like yelling into a void—exhausting and utterly pointless. Now she’s dreading the thought of breaking the news to Drew. If Jules’ reaction was any indication, she’s in for another round of disappointment.

Being a young widow already sets her apart, but nothing makes her feel more alone than her family's inability to truly grasp her grief. She guesses she's been feeling alone for years, long before Matt came into her life and subsequently left it.

Jules, catching the tail end of Leigh's distant look, leans in and asks, “So, what's the plan now? You still going to that grief counseling group? Danny's been showing up there, right?”

Leigh's gaze sharpens, a bit taken aback by the sudden shift back to practicalities. “Are you asking about my plans with Danny? Because I already told you, that's over. I'm never seeing him again.”

Jules raises her hands in a placating gesture, mindful that one wrong move could tip Leigh over the edge for good. “Not really, no. I'm asking if you're still keen on processing your grief. Now that it turns out Matt was... well, a snake.”

Jules calling Matt a snake doesn't sit well with Leigh even with his cheating coming to light. But she supposes it's Jules' way of being on her side every once in a while. It's a clumsy attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm still going,” Leigh finally says, her gaze dropping to her lap before meeting Jules' eyes again. “Not for Danny, not for anyone else, but for me. Turns out, finding out your rotting husband was living a double life does a number on you. Who knew, right?”

Jules cracks a small, rueful smile at that and says, “Who knew indeed.”

Leigh thinks back to the time when she believed she knew Matt inside and out, a belief so deeply ingrained it felt like a cornerstone of her identity as his wife. She prided herself on their connection, convinced that they shared everything—every thought, every fear, every dream. It was a pride rooted in the belief that she knew him better than anyone else could, and he, her, in the same intimate manner.

It was the kind of recognition that’s not only about knowing his favorite color or the way he took his coffee. It’s deeper and more layered. She knew the exact tone of voice he'd use when he was about to apologize, the look in his eyes when he was holding back tears, the subtle shift in his posture when he was trying to be braver than he felt. And she thought he knew her just as intricately—the silent language of her sighs, the meaning behind her quietest smiles, the small, everyday details that they believed only they could understand about each other.

“It's hard, you know? Feeling like you're mourning someone who never really existed,” Leigh mumbles after a long pause.

“Yeah, I can't even imagine,” Jules responds, reaching across the table to give Leigh's hand a brief squeeze. “But I'm here, okay? Even if I don't always get it right.”

Jules, Drew, Danny, her mom—all of them—rarely get it right. It has always been Matt.

He has always been all she has and needed.

Even if Leigh wasn't aware that she was probably just getting his scraps.

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps thinking over the next several days. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It doesn’t help that there’s a new member who has also been widowed, and she’s sharing about her late husband who had quite a number of mistresses throughout their eighteen years of marriage.

Leigh listens, her fingers twisted together in her lap, as the woman talks about the signs she missed, the lies she believed.

“I just keep thinking,” the woman's voice breaks, “if I'd been more attentive, more... I don't know, less demanding, maybe things would've been different.”

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps screaming inside. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It took Leigh a long time to return to the apartment she shared with Matt after his passing.

Mostly, it's because Leigh found it difficult to confront the scattered remnants of him that would remain untouched in his absence. No longer would he be picking up his favorite shirt or completing another page of his crossword puzzle book. Yet, these belongings would remain his, just as Leigh felt she still belonged to him.

So it’s ironic that now, surrounded by the same belongings in her bedroom at her mother’s home, she's being overwhelmed by the impulse to turn them all into ashes. In a sudden frenzy, Leigh grabs a box and begins to throw everything inside. The sound of her ragged breathing fills the room, only matched by the soft thuds of objects landing in the cardboard.

“Stupid fucking toys!” she shouts, tossing a figurine with more force than necessary.

“And this shirt—what were you thinking?” She grabs a garishly patterned fabric, shaking it at the empty air as if expecting an answer.

Her voice cracks, “You're not even here, and you're driving me crazy!”

As Leigh's wrath burns through the remnants of Matt’s life, her thoughts take a dark turn. The things he owned, the pieces of his life flying from her hand—it all leads her back to the one person who had a piece of him, a piece that was never hers.

The thought of your face, the one that belonged to him too at one point, flashes in her mind, and she's on the edge of losing all control.

If only Leigh could throw you into the box too.

Finally, she finds the book he gave her for her last birthday, the one she never read, and for a moment, her movements pause. Then, with a cry of anguish, she tosses it in as well. When the box is full, she kicks it. Once, twice, thrice—each kick releasing a burst of pent-up fury until she's gasping for breath.

A knock at the door startles her. It's soft but persistent, making it obvious that whoever is outside has heard the commotion in her room. “Leigh, honey, are you done in there?” Amy's voice seeps through the wood.

Leigh wipes at her eyes. “Almost. I, uh… just give me a minute,” she calls back. She’s not done—not really. But she’ll probably set the house on fire if she doesn’t stop here.

Pushing herself up, Leigh opens the door. She knows the sight she presents isn't pretty—eyes swollen red, nose a mess, and those dark circles. But her mom has seen this look more times than either would care to count.

“You okay?” her mom asks, though the answer's written all over Leigh's face.

Leigh shakes her head, no energy to pretend.

“Want some breakfast?”

Again, “No,” slips out.

Then, “Need a ride to the studio?” her mom tries again.

“Yes,” Leigh finds herself saying, clinging to the offer like a lifeline, a small acknowledgment that life, somehow, must go on.

The following day, Leigh looks at the box, then at everything around her. She mutters, “Screw this,” and starts pulling everything out of the box, putting it all back where it came from.

Leigh's back at running, not because she loves it, but because the sun insists on poking her awake before the rest of the world stirs. It's an old hobby, dusted off to fill the gaping mornings before her first yoga class.

It’s easy to do because she realizes she’s good at it. Leigh’s only been at it for just a couple of weeks and already she's feeling fitter, faster. She likes the pain too, not being aware before that there are different kinds of pain, and some of them do feel good—addicting even.

Mid-thought, her routine jog takes a wild left turn: stranded in the middle of the bustling traffic is a French Bulldog, looking decidedly out of place. Ignoring the honks and the near misses, Leigh bolts across the street. It's a bit of a mad dash, dodging cars that are swerving and braking hard. She scoops him up in her arms and doesn’t stop to think about the close calls.

It hits her then—she's surprised at her own gutsiness, not even pausing to think that she could've been clipped by a car not paying attention. Maybe all this time spent wrestling with thoughts of death has brought her to a strange peace with it and is no longer scared of it. It's like she's danced with death so much, it's just another shadow she passes by—not something that paralyzes her in place anymore.

Leigh’s not sure if being this fearless is actually a good thing though.

After cooling her heels on the sidewalk for half an hour, with no owner in sight, she shrugs and decides he’s coming home with her.

Jules gives her a scrutinizing look the moment she walks in. “What, you went out for a run and decided to get a dog?”

“Rescue mission,” Leigh shoots back, setting the dog down. “Found him in the middle of Second Street. Seems he’s lost.”

Jules doesn't miss a beat, heading straight for the newcomer. She kneels, her hands gently petting the dog, her eyes softening in a way that Leigh rarely sees. The dog, clearly pleased with the attention, wags its tail vigorously. Her eyes are practically giving her away, so it sounds almost funny when she looks up at Leigh and says, “Just don't get too attached, okay?”

“I won’t, which is why I named him Visitor. It’s temporary,” Leigh says with a smile, looking very proud of the name she came up with.

Jules chuckles, standing up and brushing off her knees. “Nerd. Matt would've gotten a kick out of that.”

The room just freezes at the mention of his name. Talking about Matt is like walking into a glass door you didn't see.

Jules tries to backpedal, “Hey, sorry, I—” But Leigh's quick to brush it off with a shrug.

“Don't worry about it. Let's just figure out where Visitor here belongs, okay?”

As they refocus on Visitor, Jules can't help but notice the way the dog favors one leg as he trots over to sit snugly between Leigh's legs, looking up at her with those big, trusting eyes. “Looks like he's got a bit of a limp,” Jules points out.

Leigh frowns and leans down to get a closer look, her fingers gently probing around Visitor's leg until she finds a tender spot. The moment she applies a little pressure, Visitor yelps, pulling away sharply and retreating a few steps.

Jules winces at the reaction. “Yeah, that's not good. Maybe we should take him to a vet?”

Leigh can barely hold back a grimace as her brain immediately links you to the situation.

“What's wrong?” Jules notices the sudden shift in Leigh’s mood. “There's St. Mary's Animal Clinic nearby. I heard they're great.”

That's your clinic. Leigh's throat tightens at the thought, the memories of her visit flooding back. “Are there others around here?”

Jules looks puzzled at the question. “I mean, I can look it up, but what's wrong with St. Mary's?”

Leigh considers whether she should tell Jules about meeting you. Part of her really knows it’s unfair to dislike you, especially if you genuinely didn't know Matt was married. But she knows Jules too well—tell her, and it'll turn into a whole thing. Leigh's not sure she's up for that drama.

Despite her reservations, Leigh decides to bite the bullet, her curiosity getting the better of her. Besides, if she can’t be brave enough to talk about this in her counseling group, she should probably at least tell Jules.

“Actually, Jules,” Leigh begins, “St. Mary's Animal Clinic is where... where she works.”

Jules's eyes widen in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait, you mean... you mean her, as in…?” she stammers, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yup,” Leigh confirms, smacking her lips forcefully.

“Oh my god—that bitch,” Jules spits out, her voice dripping with disdain before Leigh can even brace for impact.

“She didn’t know Matt’s married,” Leigh clarifies quickly.

“And you bought that?”

“I had a feeling she was telling the truth. Besides, I can’t imagine Matt being that brazen to pursue someone while married. He can be a little self-righteous sometimes,” Leigh says, only half-sure of her statement. Recently, she has to remind herself that maybe she never really knew him at all.

Then, an idea sparks in Jules's mind. “You know what?” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe this is a good opportunity. After all, she owes you one, right? Maybe she'll treat Visitor for free, to make up for being... well, you know.”

Leigh rubs her nose, skeptical of the idea. “I don't know, Jules. I don't want to impose…”

Jules leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if she's the reason you're hurting, maybe she should make it right?”

She isn't hurting because of you, not directly. That's why Jules’ suggestion hangs in the air, unappealing. Leigh remembers the pity in your eyes from that morning, and she doesn't want it. She doesn't want anything from you at all. Her resolve instantly hardens like ice.

“No,” Leigh finally says. “I don't want her charity. I'll pay for Visitor's bills myself. And I'll keep the receipts for when his real owners show up.” It's a decision that feels surprisingly empowering, a small reclaiming of control in a world that's felt off-kilter for too long.

Jules merely sighs; she knows better than to push Leigh when her mind’s made up.

“Have it your way.”

Leigh brings Visitor to St. Mary’s the very next day.

There's a certain set to her jaw, a readiness for something less than pleasant. She doesn’t need to go through reception this time because she spots you right away, escorting a client to the door, cradling their puppy in your arms. Seeing you with a pet makes Leigh realize why you’ve chosen this profession. You fit right in among the animals, she muses bitterly.

It's with a sense of satisfaction that she watches your smile dissipate as soon as your eyes land on hers.

She strides confidently towards you, dog in arms, forcing you to quickly hand off the puppy back to its owner. Yet, you recover with a swiftness that's begrudgingly admirable as you give her a look that’s equal parts professional and friendly—like you were actually looking forward to seeing her again.

“Good morning, Leigh. How can I help you?”

Without a word, Leigh extends the dog she’s carrying towards you, a silent transfer of trust, or perhaps, necessity. You gesture towards the consultation room, an invitation she accepts with a terse nod, following you into the space where you effortlessly shift into doctor mode.

As you begin to charm her dog, she can't help but narrow her eyes. It irks her, watching Visitor take to you instantly, as if you were old friends. “What's his name?” you ask, looking up at Leigh.

“Visitor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the name, just in time for your irises to capture the light seeping through the office blinds. They glow a hazel-brown, disarmingly so. Leigh forces herself to focus back on the purpose of her visit.

Leigh continues, “He’s limping on his left hind leg. I’d appreciate it if you can prescribe him something. I'll try not to take up too much of your time.”

Ignoring the undercurrent of Leigh's insinuation, your attention remains undividedly on Visitor. The well-being of the dog before you eclipses any personal sentiments, as it always does.

“I'm sorry, but before we can consider any medication, I need to examine him thoroughly. It's possible he might require some lab tests to rule out anything serious,” you tell her. Despite sounding apologetic, Leigh interprets it as your polite way of telling her to fuck off and let you do your job.

As you palpate the dog's leg carefully, you begin your routine questions. “Can you tell me his birthday? Any vaccination history?”

They’re basic, but they seem to catch Leigh off guard anyway. “He’s not mine. I found him on the street yesterday,” she reveals with a reluctant sigh.

The news prompts a more detailed response from you.

“I see. In that case, we should definitely line up some tests for Visitor. We need to ensure he doesn't have distemper or any other airborne virus that could be affecting his mobility,” you suggest, already mentally cataloging the necessary procedures.

You start detailing the tests you intend to perform, explaining their purposes and associated costs. Leigh is clearly deluged by it all and you decide to take pity on the poor woman by adding that it’s still up to her which tests to proceed with, if any at all.

“Your call, Leigh,” you tell her.

Leigh can't shake off the vibe that you're throwing a gauntlet down in front of her. It's like her inner competitor wakes up, refusing to back down. “Do all of them,” she declares, tipping her chin up towards you. “Whatever you think is best.”

“That’s a good decision. We’ll take care of it right away,” you say, already picking up the phone to call the reception for assistance.

Leigh's still trying to get a read on you. Was her arm twisted into this choice, or did you genuinely have Visitor's best interest at heart? She's not about to hand out trust like free samples, especially when she could end up misjudging you. It’s a tricky spot, especially because she’s clearly been wrong before.

The tests take their time, roughly an hour, after which Leigh finds herself pacing the lobby. An additional quarter-hour trickles by before the receptionist finally calls her back into the consultation room.

“Good news,” you start, making sure to catch her eye. She meets your look briefly before her attention shifts to Visitor. “It's only a sprain. The X-ray revealed no breaks or other issues. But,” you pause, checking to see if she's still fully engaged, “his blood tests indicated a low platelet count and evidence of an infection.”

Leigh listens intently, nodding along.

You explain what this means in a clear, concise manner, avoiding medical jargon as much as possible. “It's something we can manage with medication. I'll prescribe some antibiotics for the infection and pain medication to help with his discomfort. It's important that he completes the course of antibiotics to clear the infection completely.”

You watch Leigh closely, gauging her reaction and ready to answer any questions she might have. “We'll need to keep an eye on his platelet count, so I'd like to schedule a follow-up visit next week. This will also give us a chance to check how his leg is healing.”

“Will he be okay?” she asks without looking up from Visitor, busy scratching behind his ears.

“He'll be just fine,” you reassure her, adding, “Any questions about what we discussed?”

Leigh stays silent and you take it as your cue that she doesn’t have any thoughts on the matter. As she wraps up without saying much more, you realize it's time to wrap things up too. But there's something niggling at you, something that's been on your mind since the last time she was here. You're about to let her go, but then, out of nowhere, you feel this urge to clear the air about that whole mess with Matt.

“So, uhm, about the other week when you…” you trail off, suddenly feeling like you're balancing on a tightrope without a net. You’re not so easily spooked by confrontations, but Leigh makes you nervous in a way you can’t explain. “I guess I just wanted to say sorry… for your loss, and for—”

“Does he really need to take pain medication for seven days?” Leigh cuts you off suddenly. It’s sharp enough for you to shut your mouth and abandon your attempt to get personal.

“Yes, the full course is important to ensure he's comfortable and that the inflammation goes down properly. It's just as crucial as the antibiotics for his recovery…”

Leigh nods, carefully scooping Visitor into her arms, preparing to leave.

You try one last time. “Leigh, I really am sorry–”

“I’ll see you next week, Dr. Y/L/N,” she says dismissively and then she’s gone.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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n0tamused · 3 months

Note

Hi! Could I request Jiyan, who didn't realise he was in love with his best friend!reader until he almost lost them. The moment he held them unconscious in his arms everything just clicked.

Angst with a happy ending, please.

A/n: sorry this took some time to write! I initially planned to write this as some short drabble/scenario but as you can see, things went out of control lol I do hope you enjoy this :) Also a small note - I initially wrote this with you/yours stuff, but I wanted to experiment this method, so I do apologize if there is some mistakes left here regarding that. Do tell me which one you guys prefer more? You/yours or they/them/she/her.

Contents: Jiyan x GN!Reader, they/them pronouns, blood and injuries, angst but turns to bittersweet at the end, fluff? They both live at the end so we can count it as a happy ending.

Words: 3867

'I can't do this without you'

Holding the weight of a body in his arms never felt heavier before. The gradual added weight on his heart and lungs kept getting heavier and heavier by the moment, he was sure it would make his ribs burst from the pressure. And he wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he looked down he saw his own heart beating outside his very body. (Y/n) was pale, bleeding and giving no response to any action he took. “Please..” His lips muttered, but to what extent his plea stretched out, no one could tell.

His dragon came crashing through the waves of TDs like a storm, breaking apart their limbs and turning them to ash before he himself emerged from its glowing maw, jumping in front of (Y/n) with spear in hand. Jiyan’s face twisted in a fierce scowl, his sharp eyes hooded beneath his knit brows as he plunged into the remaining monsters that lurked around. But not even after he dealt with them did he achieve the quiet that usually followed a concluded battle. The buzzing in his ears did not stop. His heart beat still thundered between his ears, and the sound only multiplied once his golden eyes landed on the falling body of his dearest companion.

There was no time, he told himself, gathering all the courage and patience he found within himself, gathering them in his arms and fleeing from the charred fields as if fire was threatening to lick up his heel. The buzzing sound was deafening, so akin to silence yet it was everything but. He heard nothing else, but he heard it all. As he pushed his way past the soldiers at the front, eyes wide and staring into the void, trusting only his feet to find the path for him. He needs nothing else but to hurry and scold himself for not being able to go faster.

He carried them into the first medical tent his eyes landed on, the flap of the tent slapping out of place and before his form and before he could process the light slap the material did to his cheek, he was placing them down onto one rolled out mat in the corner. He saw the lips of the medical staff move, but no words reached his ears, and for all he knew he could’ve been barking or whispering at them to do something - to help them. He joined in the efforts, plucking out the gauze and the antiseptics from the corners of the tent and gathering them next to the mat as one healer already began to cut away their dirty clothes to gain better access to the wound.

The bare skin glistened with blood, the only shade of theirs that could make Jiyan feel sick to the stomach. Other healers in the tent looked at him in bewilderment as his breathing was yet to calm down, labored and ragged, but his hands held utmost care and precision as he started on the gauze, already keeping steps ahead and waiting until the healer next to him peeled the clothes away. Each layer unfolded like a wet petal, revealing the yawning gash underneath. Jiyan’s golden eyes turned a shade darker under the pressure and the light in the tent, turning a shade of olive instead, sick with worry. Were they gone already? He looks at their face, glimpsing their peaceful expression, dotted with splatters of blood and grime. They’re still bleeding, he notes as his fingers become slick with blood whilst he worked on their wound, there was still a beating heart inside of them, and that meant life. His mind spun prayers on repeat, prayers he thought he had long since forgotten the words of, favoring battle chants over putting his hope into something he couldn’t see or touch. How long till (Y/n) wakes?

Long time has passed until his mind has reeled back around to the present. He was alone now, aside from (Y/n), huddled on a small wooden chair in the opposite corner from which he could see them, patched up and under the light. His hands, once so calm and steady, had begun to shake as realization settled within him. How he could have so easily lost them, with so many words yet to be spoken, hurt more than any wound he sustained. Blood caked on his fingers, falling off into dust as he flexed them into a fist before releasing again. All the worry made him angry, and anger never suited him. It made him think badly, irrationally, and in the silence that followed the medical emergency of their state, all thoughts took root deep within his mind and soul, festering like a neglected cut. (Y/n) shouldn’t have been allowed on the front lines, he should have set them back, or even better - he should have misused his position and sent them home, risking to humiliate them for being sent home for seemingly nothing, other than his selfish need to keep them safe on all accounts.

Sighing, Jiyan shuddered at his own mind’s skilled ways of wearing him down. It played out his image and character in ways he knew he’d never act. He’d never do those things, but in such a state as he was in, he nearly believed it all. Pressing his forehead into the clean heels of his palms he stared at his own boots until the silence became a soft comforting buzz. Sleep had tried to pull himself down his eyelids, but each time he refused it, eventually finding himself sitting at their side again, instead of the faraway corner. Long hours had passed, and Jiyan felt the camp go to bed with the night settling in the corners of the world. But he couldn’t, it would be a disservice to you if he left you alone, but his duty called - and he internally begged for forgiveness as he stepped out of the tent to check up on all the others, cleaning his hands while he was at it.

There was blood on his hands.

And it was theirs.

And he’d never be able to wash it away, no matter how hard he scrubbed, or how many times he washed his hands.

Morning came chill and misty, but Jiyan’s body felt none of it. The cold clung onto him like a second coat, greeting him like an old friend and embracing him as the same. He only hoped the cold did not embrace them too. The night was sleepless for Jiyan, and after he had ensured the safety of others and checked in with his Captains, he had found his way back to the medical tent he left (Y/n) in.

“There’s a lot for me to say, my dear…friend..” Jiyan’s pale lips formed the last word hesitantly, treating it as an impostor instead of the usual warming endearment in which fashion he used it years ago. The word had long since become strange to him, yet he wished not to risk disrespecting them in this state, heavily considering the fact they may not even share in his sentiments. “Yet you seem so eager to cut your life short.. “ he sneered lightly, not at them, but rather at himself, blame always within reach to be pulled towards himself by his very hand.

“What would I do without you..? Who would I be without you?” The world around him seemed to quiet down in silent sympathy. “You mean so much more than you believe, more than you know.. I’ve wished to tell you, but all you force me to do is scold you and weep over you like some child… like when we were kids…”

A twitch, and then the fingers of (Y/n)’s hand grasped into a fist, making his eyes widen at the sight he barely glimpsed with his head hanging low, staring at the ground. His golden eyes snapped to their face, seeing the corners of their lips curl downward into a pain filled scowl.

“(Y/n)!-” he beamed with all the softness his surprise would allow him as he kneeled beside them in one swift swoop. His hand came over their eyes to shield it from the light once he saw how their nose scrunched and brows knit together. Relief filled their eyes as the intrusive light no longer tried to pry them open so cruelly. Dizziness was still huge, feeling as if it split their blood apart, making it as light as clouds, and making them float on top of the mat.

“What’re you.. rambling about…?” (Y/n) muttered, throat dry and voice coarse and wincing, their face once more ended up in a painful twist. Jiyan didn’t need all his medical knowledge to see they were still out of it, his frown deepening, but his heart raced up to climb into his throat.

“I was saying how reckless you can be..” he whispered, blinking away the nervousness from his eyes. His other hand hovered over them, refusing to touch them in fear of hurting them. But his eyes drank in everything, looking for any anomalies that he may have not noticed before, although the chance he missed something was astronomically low with how keenly his eyes kept vigil over you throughout the night. “Are you in pain? Tell me, I’ll help make it better” he told them, shuffling as he loomed over their body.

(Y/n)’s eyes still refused to open after they fluttered shut, their throat bobbing, but swallowing nothing with how parched it felt. “Water..” They croaked, and suddenly light was kissing their eyelids again as Jiyan moved away in haste to fetch a bottle of water.

He returned as quickly as he left, swift as the wind and helping them drink with one hand stabilizing their head and the other holding the bottle to their chapped lips, watching them carefully as they languidly took sips to drink. The gloved iron claw on his finger faintly scratched against their scalp, tangled between their hairs. Letting out a small sigh, thirst finally quenched, they finally opened their eyes to see just how disheveled and worried Jiyan looked.

“Jiyan..” (Y/n) called him, watching as his face both hardened and mellowed at the drop of his name in that worn out tone. Their face looked confused to see him like this, not that they ever doubted he’d worry if they got injured, but the tension within this space felt like a maw of a beast, ready to snap its jaws shut. Something was amiss, something they couldn’t quite place. The aching throb in their side didn’t subside, but they were able to somewhat ignore it for now, worry poisoning them into thinking of the worst - whatever could be worse than their own life nearly being taken away. The question remained unsaid, but it appeared as if Jiyan didn’t need the verbal communication to respond.

“Nothing- don’t worry about it.. Please, lay down and tell me how you feel” He urged as he placed his palm onto their sweaty forehead, pushing it back onto the small pillow below. (Y/n) blinked, confused and scared and exhausted as he pawed gently at their skin, only pulling away after he ensured there was no rising heat.

“I’m.. aching.. that’s all.. and sore all over”

“I believe that to be an understatement, this isn’t some small scratch.. You nearly..” Jiyan looks at the bandages, splotches of red already having bloomed through like little poppies in a faraway field. “I’ll get you something for the pain now… Don’t move.” It was a command, that last part, and left no room for any question or rebuttal as he lifted himself away, painfully severing the moment in favor of searching the place for painkillers and herbs. If there was a way to remain glued to their side and heal them in that way, he wouldn’t have ever left, and that option would have done his heart many favors.

“When will you start listening to orders?” he asked as he walked back to the mat, his hand grasping the gorge shaped pill box his mother gave him, his tone now heralding the lesson he was about to drop on them. His eyes refused to meet theirs as he crouched down again, popping the lid of the gorge open and letting two pills fall into his open palm.

“Whenever you... decide to be less dense..” (Y/n) responded with a small cough that rippled the pain from their wound, and wincing they forced themselves to stay still. He did not take sweetly to the jest, his eyes focusing on them like a target, a beloved one at that.

“You should have called out.. I was there, I could have helped you out. You didn’t need to get hurt, and all because of your faulty sense of independence” Jiyan kept going, urgency for them to understand his side coloring his voice. He helped them sit slowly, apologizing for making them move in a husky and quiet tone, apologizing for making them sit and be here and be in pain, swallowing the big tasteless pills.

Keeping their silence, (Y/n) looks down, guilt seeping through their veins and weary body which seemed to know no rest now.

Sore and worried and dizzy and ever forgetful in this half slumbering state they could only grasp at the thin strings of consciousness as Jiyan loomed over them like a hawk, restless in his pursuit to help, yet he remained in the dark as to how else to do so. What else could he do except think of healing magic he had no possession of. His teeth grinded together, golden eyes flickering over them and then up to their face, meeting their bleary gaze.

“I’m sorry…”

(Y/n) whispered, one hand over their chest as they took breaths in, slow and weak, but good - they were not the shallow breaths you took when he was racing back to the medics and other healers with them in his arms. This was better.

Jiyan’s heart stuttered at the low tone that broke under the pressure he had placed upon them, unwilling yet it was no less necessary if he wished to have them understand. Too many times he had sat down with them, told them to be careful, to follow protocol and all the talked about strategies, to value the teammates at their sides, yet it all seemed for naught. What did those conversations mean, they could not heal you now and make you whole again.

A shaky sigh drops from Jiyan, pulling all the weight from his shoulders and making him sag in his spot, head hanging low and heavy. What was he supposed to say? He had words too many to share.

“It’s… fine.. What’s done is done, and we can’t change what happened.. It’s alright..”

“You’re mad at me..”

Of course he is. Grief has never bitten him so hard as in the moment he saw them stagger in the field, it made his stomach churn and his sides tickle as if wind passed through the hollows between his ribs. And he grieved as if he lost them while patching you up, so much so it poisoned him and made him mad, angry.

“I.. I am not mad at you.. ” ‘I love you, why can’t you see?’ - a part of him wanted to say.

Blinking at him, tears bubbled up to their lash line, listening to him huff, unknowing of the inner turmoil he struggled through, the answer to close yet so far, holding you in suspense. Like a word about to be spoken.

“Why can’t you just listen to orders.. You throw yourself into danger as if you have lives to spare” Jiyan began, finding their eyes in a stern glare which mellowed out quickly. “You are not valued only as a soldier to be thrown across the board but as a human, someone’s companion.. (Y/n)..”

There’s a plea in his tone, and another in his eyes, and his fingers itch with the need to hold onto them, to let the venom of his grief seep into them too, to make them see, understand. It’s like a beast he’s hardly keeping at bay. When was the last time he felt so strongly about someone? Anyone? And to the point he’s shedding his general persona to give way to a man desperate to keep the few people he holds dear alive. Jiyan couldn’t name anyone.

“I understand that, but Jiyan.. how many nights have we spent talking about the day of peace? When there’s going to be no wars to fight? I know-” A cough interrupts them, but Jiyan does not jump at that opportunity to cut them off and scold them - he waits. “..I know it’s a childish dream, a hope, but peace is achievable. And if it means getting battered and bruised and hurt along the way, then so be it - the road to peace is not paved in a bed of flowers..” (Y/n) frowns, nearly pouting, and in some absentminded state, their hand flails in the air in search of his, a purchase he gladly grants without a thought.

Shaky fingers curl around his gloved ones, a tinge smaller, and more fragile than his own with the state now. They lack the grip they usually possess, yet they grasp and hold and he holds back, squeezing a bit tighter. God knows, he shares their view, their childish hope, but he can’t agree with it, not now. “(Y/n).. Peace will mean little if you’re dead to see it..” It’s a whisper, as fragile as the wings of a hatchling, and as soft as the summer breeze.

“That all will mean nothing to me either, it won’t be peace if you’re not with me to see it..” he added, his other hand grasping over their own, thumbing at their soft skin. He swallows thickly, hoping to wish away the tears that threaten to come up to his eyes. “I lo-... I love …you…”

Realization is slow to settle, but he sees it in their face, their eyes that fail to blink as they take him in, deciphering his words one by one, failing, at first, to understand their weight from the usual affections they shared before. Parting their lips, they fail to respond, their eyes flickering to the surroundings before they return to him, and it was as if all air had been knocked out of their lungs. The meaning is written all over him, communicated through all ways but verbal and it was enough. They were children together, growing up and exploring the world, plucking strange berries from nature and sharing them together, they grew up together.

Now they are grown, and (Y/n) focuses on the thought that has appeared in their mind countless times before - growing old together. It was just out of reach, and it was not guaranteed and their actions on the battlefield nearly made it certain that the future would not embrace them together. Trying to blink the tears away, they look at Jiyan, apologetic and ashamed, but where they wished to seek forgiveness was unneeded, as Jiyan had already forgiven it, no matter the hurt.

“I love you too-” The words were accompanied by a stray tear wetting their cheek.

Hushed breaths and shuffling of clothes flutter, and in a blur, Jiyan had pulled himself ever closer, sitting at their side and ever so carefully drawing them to his chest. His movements are slow and calculated even in the face of such strong emotion, too fearful to hurt them.

He lets them rest their face into the crook of his neck, eyes fluttering closed as they both simply hold onto one another, and it was in that moment he felt them squeeze him back, full of blooming life and energy. His fingertips itched for a stronger embrace but he controlled himself.

“I love you..” he repeated, even more quiet and directly beside their ear. “Please.. listen to me.. I only wish to keep you safe.. alive most of all.. Understand me..” They nod their head against him, their fingers clawing at his back with a little more strength, holding on as if he was a ghost ready to vanish. “You’re my candlelight leading me through the darkness.. I can’t do it without you..”

“Oh, Jiyan..” They crack their voice over his name, eyes seeing a mosaic of colors through tears ready to be shed. “I only wish to help you.. Under all this armor and uniform, I can see you struggling too.. How can I not become a little desperate when I see all my other attempts to help you have failed?” They sigh, their breath tickling the skin underneath this chin and he shudders to think of this mutual tug-of-war. They can’t win, neither can.

“You leave my struggles to me.. I do not withhold them for no reason, but I see that has done me, us, more harm than good..” He says but fails to make another sentence, knowing he’d rather not burden them with his own worries, and he’d much rather hear of their own.

“Just.. promise me this” he begins, pulling away and making them face to face. “You will not jump to take any more blows for me, in no amounts at all. I’m the one that should guard you, and not the other way around” He is firm in his case, and even if (Y/n) had the strength to argue, they wouldn’t. This was final.

Closing your eyes and giving a little bow of their head, they profess their agreement to his words without a word of their own. And sinking back into his embrace felt like sinking into a bed of feathers, soft, warm and welcoming. “Fine..”

“We’ll talk more about this once you’ve healed..” Jiyan muttered, his lips ghosting their brow and feeling them nod against him again. His hand rubs up and down their back, and his lips land on their cheek, lingering there in a gentle expression of his love that knew no bounds.

The flickering light and the sudden silence made his mind wander, and his body began to rock back and forth slowly, hoping to ease you into slumber. He wondered how it would feel to hold them again, when they were healed and not even a scar remained of their injury; how it would feel to kiss their brow and hold their cheek in his palm, to see those lights stare back at him from within their eyes, full of mirth and devoid of pain; he thinks how comforting it would feel to feel you flush against him each morning, holding your warm body close and tucking them under the covers when they shift in their sleep… So many images run through his mind, and he prays he gets to see them materialize in reality.

For now he was fine with holding them, serving their needs until war reeled its ugly head again, and he had to leave once more. For his people and (Y/n) he’d grow great miles to achieve peace, even if it meant losing his own peace.

#-dragon.treasure #-better an arrow than you #Jiyan #Jiyan x reader #Jiyan x you #Jiyan x gn reader #Jiyan imagine #jiyan angst #jiyan x y/n #wuthering waves jiyan #wuwa jiyan #jiyan wuthering waves #angst to fluff #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x gn reader #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you

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tojisun · 11 months

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cygo_5wOuCi/?igshid=bGRjYzdrZWF2N3Q5

another biker!simon x reader <3

NO OK SO THIS IS ADORABLE, FUCKIN BEAUTIFUL EVEN, BUT HIS CAPTION??? “everything’s better with her 🥰” THATS SO PRECIOUS MY GODDD MY HEART

and absolutely thats so biker!simon x reader coded!!

i love love writing reader getting over her fear of riding a bike and this one!! this video seems like something simon would take as a commemorative video for when she’s confident enough to even put her hands up AAAAHHHHHHH // somewhat sequel of this

simon’s pleasantly surprised, if he’s being honest.

the ride is smooth, the roads empty as the night swelled. the two of you have long parted with the squad, bidding each other goodbyes as simon took a left turn onto the exit.

he feels your hands swipe along his middle, untangling their hold from each other to find purchase on his hips instead. simon’s heart throbs, pride thrumming underneath his veins at feeling you gain confidence not only in him but even in yourself.

riding a bike is a challenge, that he knows too well. he knows how much effort it took for you to even accept his invitation, feeling you tremble with the strain of trying to suppress your fears when you climbed up behind him and held on tightly. he’s always emphasized that you are the one calling the shots – that no matter where and no matter when, if you needed to stop simon will.

so seeing you gradually fall in love with the ride the way he is, your anxiousness bleeding away to be replaced with excitement, had made him so proud. because it had been a beautiful progress, one that simon cherished as he helped you throughout.

and he’s told you this multiple times, pressing kisses on the top of your head or on the slope of your shoulders, his hands greedy as they hold you.

“look at how far you’ve gotten,” he says, pleased hums rumbling from the base of his throat.

you giggle, twisting in his arms so you can climb up to his lap. “thank you for bein’ patient.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, blinking down at him, and simon watches as your hair falls to frame your face. his lungs constrict, going breathless as he gazes up at you, wondering what did he ever do to deserve an angel like you?

you’re so beautiful. and he can’t believe how you’re all his.

simon breathes in sharply when he feels your hands leave his hips and, for a moment, panic seizes him whole. cold dread washes over him, making the pleasant thrum of the summer wind turn into something colder. something with a bite.

it’s only when he uses his mirrors that his heart eases up, his ears no longer ringing. because what he sees, instead, makes his lips wobble – your hands are up in the air, spread open as you feel the pooling air.

he picks up the sound of your laughter, your giddiness too bright to be drowned out by the sound of the wind. simon feels his muscles loosen up, the coiling panic finally evaporating.

he wants to commemorate this moment. wants to have a physical reminder of this day.

he taps your thigh twice as a warning that he’ll make a stop and rumbles in elation when he feels your arms around him again. he swerves just outside of the road and parks.

“si?” you ask, confusion ringing in your tone.

simon fumbles for his recorder, turning it on, and replies, “wanna take a video of us, sweetheart?”

he feels your hands flutter where you’re holding him before hearing your happy gasp of, “yes!”

simon posts the video on his account later with your permission, your head resting on his shoulder as you watch him type out a caption.

“aww,” you coo when you see what it is that he wrote. simon chucks his phone to the side when he gets the notification that it’s finally been posted and picks you up from your spot to place you on his lap, because now it’s his turn to be clingy and handsy.

you huff a fond laughter as you settle on top of him, snuggling close and nuzzling your face on the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. your eyes flutter close when simon begins to pepper kisses on the top of your head, a happy sigh leaving your lips.

“love you, sweetheart,” simon whispers.

you press your smile on his skin. “love you too, baby.”

(the video becomes simon’s most liked post as of date.)

xx - biker!simon’s account

GOD IT TURNED MUSHY AGAIN FORGIVE ME I CANT STOP MAKING SIMON SO IN LOVE

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #anon #ask #I LOVE MAKING HIM SO SOFT :((((#suns

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gladiatorcunt · 5 months

Text

　　╰ • ❀ - ❛happy birthday, mr. emperor!❜ ✦

cw: afab reader, daddy kink, pretend it’s april 19th, implied painal sorry for writing an anakin that would love jane eyre too much, bondage mention, dark themes, implied age gap, blowjob

“I wish you could see how the stars I made shine for you, angel.”

Last night Anakin had tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, silently chuckling when it sprung back to smack you in the face. Your nose scrunched in that bunny-esque way he loves, and he whispered against your cheek that he loved you before departing your home. As soon as you heard the door swoosh shut behind him, a bright smile beamed across your face as you sprung out of bed and began preparing. You’d gotten better at pretending to be asleep, or maybe he’s just humoring you.

It took you hours to set up your husband’s surprise stay at home birthday celebration. His job as the Emperor of the Galaxy drains the life out of him even on his good days, so you do what you can to ease the tension however possible. Today is the day in which you put your heart and soul into adoring the love of your life. It wasn’t hard to decide on this kind of party. You’re more of the long distance vacation person in the relationship, and Anakin would gently scold you about how it wouldn’t be safe to even leave the palace most of the time.

You hum a catchy tune, looking in the mirror to make sure that the bow in your hair is tied perfectly. You picked a satin fabric that matches the color of Ani’s eyes, and a part of you can’t deny that the decision was motivated by the desire to see his jaw clench in possessiveness. The little thrills you manage to witness get you through the days inside. You do some last minute twirls, glancing over your outfit and ignoring the slight discomfort of the silk ropes underneath.

Your slippers slap against the floor all the way to the dining room. The servants had already been dismissed for the day as soon as your husband had left, something else that you wouldn’t mind getting a ‘thorough scolding’ for. You know Anakin just doesn’t like for you to ever feel the need to lift a single finger if he can help it, but it’s only fair that you be the best spouse you can be on his special day.

All the food lining the long rectangle shaped table is Ani’s favorite, painstakingly put together and placed in an arrangement by your own hands. You haven’t slept in what feels like forever, but it’ll all be worth it to see how happy this will make him. Like always, you don’t care to delve into how slick your pussy gets at the thought of his approval. Even a small grunt of acknowledgement when he’s distracted drives you wild.

After making sure that absolutely everything is in the proper place, cheesy decorations strung up all over the place included, you smooth your clothes down with your palms flat and wait in the bedroom. You hope he appreciates how restrained you’ve been since he’s been gone, the tempatation to hump your puffy folds against the pillow he lays his head on is still on your mind. Anakin usually wakes you up by licking a flat stripe up your cunt under the covers and hooking his fingers in your hole to stretch it enough for him to spit in, always already naked from the night before. Like a cat kneading the surface it’s walking on, you could cry at being deprived of grounding yourself by burying your shaking hands in his soft hair.

Your excitement must bleed into the Force somehow, because you hear the heavy stomps of boots sooner than you thought. You scramble to meet your husband at the door, remembering how he once admitted that he likes to hear how happy you are to see him when he gets back. The cat never fails to return to check on the canary, and when it eats the stubbornly cheerful thing it doesn’t have to. It knows exactly where the bird is, and always will be.

You don’t even wait for him to get out of his armor and into his more casual attire that he likes to lounge around in at home. As soon as you see your favorite crow’s feet wrinkles revealed by the silver door, you pounce.

With very little effort, you reach up and push the top of your outfit off your shoulders. Anakin’s darkened gaze follows the truthfully skimpy garment as it falls to pool around your ankles. Your cheeks burn and you pray that he’ll take his time admiring you but no such luck, his eyes quickly flick up to see the start of a series of clumsily tied loose silk knots. The holonet tutorial you followed was sort of confusing, but you thought you managed to pull it off in the end!

“Fuck, look at you, bunny.” He groans, prowling around you in a slow circle. “All this for some boring old man?”

“Hey, ‘s not nice…” You wring your hands together, wiggling your plump ass for him as he makes his rounds. “You’re MY boring old man, Ani.”

“Watch it.”

“Or what?” You giggle despite the warning look he’s giving you.

The heat in his gaze feels like flames licking at your spine, but you don’t push him any further. You would never want him to have a stressed induced heart attack. Your unspoken jab makes you giggle again until you realize that Anakin could peek into your mind whenever he pleases.

The sudden slap to your rear doesn’t surprise you, nor do the frenzied squeezes. He loves to watch the skin bulge out between his thick fingers, he loves your fat ass period. The blush pink ribbons were tied together in a way that you knew would enhance your curves, putting enough pressure on your plush ass and tits in particular to really make them pop. Your thighs were nothing to forget about, though, you know better than to assume that Ani doesn’t love every bit of his baby equally.

He circles back around to face you and grins. He adjusts his cock in his pants, not taking his eyes off fof you for even a second, “So fuckin’ gorgeous, honey. And here I was about to say that the best thing I could receive is waking up to you every day.”

“Thank you, Daddy, Happy Birthday.” You purr, sinking to your knees and winding your arm around his thigh, nuzzling into the seam of his pants like you were searching for something.

He ‘tsk’s above you but he sighs and waves his hand in the air, summoning an emerald green cushion to slide under your knees before you hit the floor. That pillow didn’t exist in the beginning of your relationship, but you’ve ended up loving being like this so much that it became a necessity.

Anakin groans as you mouth at his bulge over his slacks, wetting the fabric with your kitten licks to his tip. He settles a heavy palm on top of your head and gives you a couple pats. Neither of you are in any rush, both enjoying your dynamic in a more sensual way. Ani loves how cock drunk you already seem to be, the tension in his body just melts away when he can see how much you’re salivating over your mind going blank.

“You can’t go dumb on me, Angel, I haven’t even got my present yet.” He teases you and grins when you mewl distractedly.

You’re trying really hard to pay attention, promise, but you couldn’t ignore your husband’s natural musk if you tried. “ ‘ngh- hah… ‘Sorry, Daddy.”

Then you remember that you can’t spend the rest of your life on your knees (you wish), so you sheepishly wipe the drool from your mouth. You have trouble getting hold of the zipper, your fingers being too wet to properly pull it. Your embarrassment is short lived, because Anakin is using the Force to undo it and slide his pants down far enough to free his throbbing length.

You pout in disappointment when it doesn’t flop out to smack you across the face. In no time at all you’re slobbering all over his cock.

You flutter your eyelashes up at your husband, hollowing out your cheeks and humming periodically. You can’t help the satisfied grin that comes over you whenever you get a deep groan or grunt in response. Your mouth makes ‘slurp!’ sounds as you suck him off, a sharp ‘pop!’ going off when you pull the suction away to trace the veins on the underside of his curved cock. Precum beads to the surface but they’re swiftly licked away, you outright make out with the thick tip of his dick for a good minute.

Anakin would tease you for how much of a bitch in heat you’re being, but he’s no better when he wriggles his tongue fucking either of your holes. He’d call you that with love though, he’ll never forget how grateful he is to still have you after everything.

“My consort loves their dick, huh? Should I even ask if you’ve prepped your ass?” He asks and you smother your smile in his balls as you lavish them in your saliva.

“Good bunny.” Anakin sighs, balling his fist up in your hair. “Daddy knows you like it when it hurts, angel.”

And you do, even with the dried cum around the corners of your mouth and the tears spilling over. You’re smiling in between gasps of breath with every heavy thrust, you send a thought into the Force of concern over the state of Ani’s joints and you squeal when he speeds up. He hadn’t even bottomed out yet, your puffy rim was already red enough from his bullying the blunt head past your entrance.

You sob and let your mouth hang open, staring off into space as you feel his length cleave your insides in two. The kisses dotted all over your face help soothe you, but you still pant and dig your nails into his wrist on the side of your head caging you in. Anakin’s other hand kneads one of your ass cheeks, giving you more quick pats when he think you’re getting too worked up.

Some of the ribbons wrapped around your body have been destroyed, either by Anakin’s irritation when he wanted more access or by how amateurish your knot tying skills were. The ones around your ass are still intact, and you do your best to shake your ass against the remaining inches sinking inside your puckered hole, wondering if Ani can pick up on the shimmer of the ropes in the dim light.

He’s a good man, your Ani, he only lets it hurt on special occasions. If you rub up on him really nicely, ruining your ass goes outside of those occasions. It’s his birthday, why not let him play with his favorite toy how he wishes? You take pride in the leash you have around his every waking and slumbering desire, he has the same hold on you.

At the end, the universe will only know the carnage Darth Vader left in his wake. Long dead twin suns will singe the memory of Anakin Skywalker and his lover into the fabric of reality.

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fourmoony · 10 months

Note

Heya I have a request <3 I've been thinking about Remus having a crush on muggle reader because he sees her walking her dog all the time when he's reading in the park or something and sirius stepping up as wingman and running up to her in animagus form forcing pretending to be Remus' dog and forcing him to talk to her

love your blog btw!!! <3

ah, thank you so much lovely! thank you, as well, for requesting - i love this idea! hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

1.3k remus x fem!reader fluff language

masterlist

There's a man running towards you full pelt.

He's waving his arms, an exasperated look on his face as he huffs and puffs, cheeks crimson from exertion and the cool November breeze. You would be concerned about the fact he seems to be running straight in your direction, clearly past caring about how crazy he looks as he ignores the turned heads of other dog walkers, but it takes you maybe two seconds to deduce the dog - Padfoot, if his collar is to be believed - leaning against your hip is his.

Your own dog, Nova, has already made herself comfortable with Padfoot, sitting happily underneath his chest while you scratch the behind of his ears. He's the biggest dog you've ever seen, you think, up to your hip, standing.

Padfoot doesn't seem to be bothered in the least that his owner is clearly so upset by his apparent disappearance, the large black dog only tilting his head to look up at you, pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. You can tell he's full of personality and mischief, even if he's only been at your feet for a minute or so.

The man comes to a gradual stop, resting his hands on his knees and bowing his head to catch his breath when he's in front of you. You smile kindly, still scratching the dog's ears. Padfoot isn't complaining. The man looks up, a weak sort of smile about his face and you notice that it pulls a scar above his top lip taught. He has a number of them on his face that you can see. One running across the bridge of his nose, under his right eye, and another along his left jaw. They make him no less beautiful, by any means. He's handsome. Pretty. Gorgeous.

It's actually kind of intimidating.

His hair falls in soft curls across his forehead, where you can see the tail end of another scar cutting through his eyebrow, and it's a dirty, sort of sandy blonde that brings out the hazel in his eyes. He's tall and lanky, and the oversized woollen jumper he's wearing hangs from his frame in a way that suggests it wasn't bought for him. He's staring at his dog with such distain you wonder if this is a regular occurrence.

"You," He looks at the dog, eyes narrowed, and then seems to remember himself, "I'm so sorry. He's usually better behaved."

The way he talks, looking at Padfoot, and the way Padfoot reacts, lifting his head in a manner that bleeds defiance, anyone might think the two are actually capable of holding a proper conversation. You smile, amused at the situation, "He's okay. Seems like him and Nova have become fast friends."

Your own dog, a brown, little spaniel puppy, is sitting between Padfoot's front legs happily. As if he can understand, Padfoot drops his head on top of Nova's and almost crushes her with the sheer weight. The man laughs, seemingly resigned to his fate with his mischievous dog.

"Right. Well, again, sorry." He looks entirely bashful, cheeks a beautiful shade of pink.

"No problem, honestly." You wave him off.

The man turns to go back whatever way he came, calling out for Padfoot who remains defiantly still. He calls after him again, growing slightly frustrated, before resigning to his fate when Padfoot circles you once, twice, and then entices Nova into walking slightly ahead along with him. You smile at how tiny she looks compared to the massive black dog, weaving playfully in and out of his feet as they go. He doesn't seem to mind.

"I suppose he's not ready to part with her, yet." He chuckles, holding his hand out towards the two dogs in a gesture - shall we?

You chuckle lightly, "Apparently not."

You tell him your name, and he tells you that his is Remus. It's a nice name, uncommon, you suppose. But so is his accent. Welsh, maybe? It's definitely got a twinge of something. It's endearing. You walk together through the park, along the trail, letting Nova and Padfoot lead the way. Padfoot keeps Nova out of trouble, leading her away from the other leash-less dogs that the four of you pass. There's multiple strange looks from the people you pass, clearly fascinated with Nova and Padfoot and their ridiculous size difference.

"How old is he?" You ask, nodding your head towards Padfoot, who's nosing Nova back onto the dirt path instead of allowing her to run head first into the surrounding forrest.

He's incredibly smart.

"Uhm," Remus falters, lets out a breath you assume is a laugh intended for himself, some sort of inside joke, likely, "He's twenty one."

"Oh, so he's three?" You ask, brows furrowed in confusion.

Remus hums, amused, "Something like that."

"How old is Nova?"

"Eleven months. She's still a little shit sometimes, won't take to her recall training for love nor money." You tell him.

Remus nods along, listening amicably, a smile on his face, "Bit like that bugger then?"

You share a laugh, kind eyes and appled cheeks, shoulders brushing as you walk together. Remus is nice. He's tall and handsome and he's genuinely interested in holding a conversation, despite the fact that it's your dogs who have forced you along together.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Remus asks as you round a corner, passing a couple of determined hikers heading towards the hillier trails.

You both offer them passing smiles, and one comments on how cute your dogs are. You and Remus thank them both, looking fondly at Padfoot and Nova who are happily trotting along in front, sniffing and exploring.

"I work in a little art museum out by the marina. It's quiet and cozy. What about you?"

"I own a book shop with my mate Sirius," Remus tells you, "Quiet and cozy."

You giggle at the repetition of your answer, the car park that signals the end of the trail coming in to view. The sight drops like a lead balloon in your stomach. It's strange, the feeling you get of not having wanted the trail to end, to spend more time talking to Remus. He seems to feel the same way, because he takes a deep breath, teeth sliding over his bottom lip when he notices the carpark, too.

"Did you," He falters, unsure, so you offer him an assuring smile, hope that the look in your eyes tells him you're going to say yes.

He grins back, nodding as if you've passed a silent message between you, "Did you maybe want to get coffee, sometime? Or dinner? Maybe another walk?"

"Yes, Remus. I'd like that." You nod.

Remus looks chuffed, eyes bright and twinkly, cheeks rounded with the force of his smile. He still manages to look entirely too handsome even when he's bashful as he pulls out his phone and hands it to you, a contact form already waiting. You put your number in, your name, too, and hand it back to him.

"I'll text you?" He asks.

You nod, "Text me."

Remus whistles for Padfoot, who actually complies this time, as you bend down to reattach Nova's leash. You say your goodbyes, promise to talk soon, and then go your separate ways to your car.

You're smiling to yourself the entire time you clip Nova into place, talking animatedly to her about how well behaved she was with Padfoot and you almost miss it when you shut the door, look up and notice the car Remus got into just moments ago is driving past. Your brain tells you to put your hand up and wave, but he hasn't seen you, he's too busy talking - or yelling, it looks like - at the fully grown man in his passenger seat.

He's gone a second later, pulling out of the car park as you stand there, dazed, mouth opening and closing like some sort of fish.

"What the-"

#marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin oneshot #marauders fic #marauders fluff #james potter #sirius black #love #lily evans #fluff #fourmoonys asks

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yeonzzzn · 11 months

Text

🩸killer date: yang jungwon

a vampires bleeding series: one / seven

pairing: jungwon x afab!reader word count: 4.2k

synopsis: your date with a cute stranger takes a different turn when you find out your date is anything but human and came with some unexpected dangers...

genre: strangers to lovers, vampire!jungwon, human!reader, fluff, some angst

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, super cute wonnie ♡

You watched the water drip down your glass. The candle in the middle of the table was losing its light, and the stares you continued to get from the families and couples in the restaurant felt never-ending.

You checked your phone for the time, your date was now forty-five minutes late.

The thought of how you even got yourself into this situation keeps replaying in your head, your face flushing in embarrassment each time.

You practically almost tumbled over him in the middle of the grocery store dropping the carton of eggs all down his clothes.

You covered your face with your hands, trying to hide the embarrassment from the other people in the restaurant.

The loud sound of a bike pulled up. The familiar red sends comfort to you. He finally showed up.

You watched as he pulled the helmet off his head, sending his fingers through his hair, and slicking it back.

The sound of your heartbeat filled your ears. He was so much more attractive in the all-black leather outfit and his beautiful dark hair being slicked back.

When you first met him earlier that morning, he looked as if he just rolled out of bed, with black hair messy, sweat pants, a white t-shirt with some red stains on it, and a brown jacket. Oh but god he caught your attention with his soft smile.

You couldn’t apologize enough for breaking all your eggs on his clothing all because you tripped over your own feet.

Thank god he found you cute, immediately introducing himself and asking you out to make up for ruining his clothes.

You obviously couldn’t decline, not just because you felt terrible but also because he made your heart flutter so hard.

He walked inside the restaurant, his doe eyes searching for you.

You lifted your hand, slowly catching his attention.

The biggest smile formed on his face as he quickly made his way to your table.

“Nice to see you again, Y/N,” your name rolls so sweetly from his lips, “You look beautiful.”

You glanced down at your outfit. It wasn’t anything special, just a really nice pink silk top you stole from your best friend, a black skirt, and black tights underneath with your favorite combat boots.

“I feel very underdressed,” you blushed, “This restaurant was a lot nicer than you described, Jungwon.”

Jungwon chuckled, “I’m not dressed too fancy either, but who cares? You’re beautiful and that’s all that matters.”

This man already had stolen your heart. You literally wanted to just jump across this table and plant a kiss on his soft lips.

“And I apologize for being late,” his apology snaps you back to reality, “Something came up and…I didn’t realize how late I actually was.”

You gave him a small smile, “No it’s fine, I promise!”

He smiled back at you. You couldn’t get enough of his lips. Your eyes are always darting to them.

That’s when you noticed a small amount of red in the corner of his lip.

“Jungwon, are you bleeding?” You asked, pointing to the left corner of his mouth.

“Am I?”

You reached across the table with a napkin, ready to wipe the blood from his mouth.

Jungwon slid away, his hand softly grabbing your arm.

He noticed how this action startled you, “I’m sorry.”

You slowly sat back down in your seat. Jungwon’s hand still held onto your arm, his thumb slowly making circles around your wrist.

“It’s okay, it just startled me, is all.”

Jungwon nodded, his tongue reached the corner of his mouth, licking away the blood from his mouth.

His eyes dilated and tucked his lower lip between his teeth.

“Jungwon, is everything okay?” you couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong with your date, he seemed fine until you pointed out the blood, “did you get into a fight or something, and is that why you’re late?”

He smirked, “Something like that, I am okay, I promise. Let’s just enjoy our date, okay?”

All you could do was smile and nod.

The rest of the night went great. Jungwon made you feel things you never thought were possible.

His laugh is contagious. His smile made you smile. His warm hand with yours made you feel so safe.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your food in a box or something? For leftovers?” You asked as you finished the rest of the food on your own plate, glancing at the half-eaten steak on his plate.

Jungwon nodded, taking a sip of his water, and cringed a bit, “I am sure. I more than likely wouldn’t eat it.”

You nodded, curious as to why this man seemed so mysterious but also so perfect all in one.

Maybe that’s the reason you’re so attracted to him. He's different and you just couldn’t point your finger on it.

Jungwon paid for the bill, taking your hand in his as he led you out of the restaurant.

“You need a ride home?” He asked, wrapping his leather jacket around your body to cover you from the October fall wind.

You looked down at his red motorbike, the thrill of him taking you home on his bike made your stomach do flips.

It was also better than calling a cab to drive you home.

“If you don’t mind,” you flirted with him, a big smile turning on his face.

Jungwon helped you on his bike, telling you to wrap your arms around him and keep your head on his back.

The wind blew through your hair and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Jungwon loved the warmth of your body against his back. The vibrations of your laughter made his heart race faster than what his bike was going.

“Want to see something?” he asked, and you nodded. Not wanting to leave him yet.

Jungwon pulled over on the side of the road, the loud engine of the bike going silent, your ears slightly ringing due to the loud noises finally gone.

He slid the helmet off his head, running his hands through his hair.

“Ready to get off?” he asked looking back at you.

You nodded, anxious to see what Jungwon had in store for the rest of the night.

He jumped off the bike first, holding his hands out to you.

You took them, sliding off the bike.

His smile warms your heart. You only have met him today but you would kill to keep that beautiful smile on his face.

“Jungwon, where are we?” you giggled, staring off into the forest behind him.

“It’s one of my favorite places, you can see the moon perfectly in this specific spot! You’ll love it, Y/N.”

Jungwon walked backward pulling you along with him.

You didn’t even think twice to follow this handsome stranger into the dark of the forest. But you trusted him. You couldn’t even begin to explain why, but you did.

“Jungwon, it’s so dark how can you see out here?” you laughed, trying to keep your balance while tip-toeing all the branches and leaves on the ground.

“I have crazy supervision, no lie.”

You rolled your eyes at his joke, “You Superman or something?”

“Or something.” Jungwon’s tone changed with those words, it felt as if it had some truth to it. You shrugged it off to him just trying to act serious.

You both approached a clearing, the moonlight shining perfectly onto the grassy floor.

“See here it is!” Jungwon pulled you faster, “You have to see the moon!”

Once you stepped into the clearing, you followed Jungwon’s movements and looked up at the sky.

It was a full moon, and he was right. It shined perfectly in this spot.

“It’s beautiful,” you looked over at him, his skin glowing heavenly against the moonlight, “it’s so so beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Jungwon glances down at you, “It’s definitely my favorite spot.”

“I can understand why.”

Jungwon turns to you, his hands finding your hips and pulling you closer to him. Your body touched, sending chills down your spine at the contact.

“It’s not as beautiful as you, Y/N.”

You laughed, “Please, nothing is more beaut-“

Jungwon cuts you off with his lips connecting to yours.

You kissed him back, breathing him in.

Jungwon releases the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.

“You’re beautiful. Don’t ever think twice about it.”

You nodded, staring at his lips, wanting to connect them with yours again.

On your tip toes, you reached for his lips but stopped at his next words.

“You tasted so good…” his voice was barely above a whisper, “so good.”

You take a step back from him, Jungwon finally opening his eyes.

You removed his hands from your body, taking more steps back.

“Who are you? WHAT are you?” you snapped.

Jungwon’s eyes were now crimson and glowed in the darkness.

“Don’t be silly, Y/N. I’m still Jungwon.”

You shook your head, “what happened to your eyes.”

Jungwon smirked, “Have you ever heard of stories about werewolves, sea monsters, fairies…vampires?”

You looked him up and down, and now everything made sense. The red stains on his shirt earlier this morning, the blood on the corner of his lips at the restaurant, him barely eating his food. How clearly he could see in the darkness, and now his crimson eyes.

“You’re a vampire.” your voice trembled.

Jungwon slowly nodded, “I was going to see how far I could take this before you found out,” he slid his hands into his pockets, glancing back up at the moon, “But you were just too perfect. Your blood boiled me to my core from the moment we met. I wanted it so bad.”

“Is that why you asked me out?” your whole body trembled. Your knees caved in and dropped to the ground. You gripped the leaves, holding back the tears, “are you going to kill me and drink my blood?”

Jungwon giggled, “Y/N, stand up please,” you ignored him, keeping your eyes on the ground. He sighed and bent down to you, “I’m not going to kill you, and I will only drink your blood if you allow me.”

His soft voice calmed you. You lifted your head to look at him, the crimson in his eyes was gone.

“I don’t drink from humans directly,” he started, his warm hand finding yours, “I buy blood bags from the hospital and drink them. I have a friend on the inside who gives them to me. The stains on my shirt were from last night. I had gone two months beforehand without drinking.”

Jungwon tucked his lips behind his teeth, the memory replaying.

“Jungwon! It’s been TWO months?!?” Heeseung snapped at him.

Jungwon was caved on the hospital room floor, his eyes unfocused as he tried to steady his breathing.

“I see you almost every single day and you didn’t mention ONCE that you were out of bags!”

Jungwon was barely able to look up at his hyung, the concern on his face killed Jungwon, “I thought I could make it…”

Heeseung kneeled down to him, taking his chin between his fingers, studying every inch of Jungwon’s face.

“I’m going to give you three bags right now to drink and get your strength back up. We haven’t gotten inventory yet so I can’t give you as many spare bags as before, you’ll need to go to Jay.”

“I’m NOT going to Jay!” Jungwon snapped, trying to breathe in as much air as possible, “He’ll fucking kill me.”

Heeseung nodded, “Yeah, he would. You’re lucky I’m nicer than him.”

Jungwon chuckled, “Hyung, I won’t mess up again.”

Heeseung once again nodded, standing up, “I’ll go grab three bags, stay here, I don’t need any other doctors seeing you.”

Jungwon agreed, and Heeseung was gone but returned just as quickly.

The moment Jungwon’s eyes laid on the red liquid, he used whatever was left of his strength and speed to dart towards his Hyung, snatching the bags from his hands.

“Don’t drink too fast!” Heeseung snapped, watching the younger one tear holes in the bag with his fangs. His eyes turned crimson as Jungwon inhaled the blood.

The iron smell filled the room, Heeseung’s pupils dilated, his own fangs growing to a point.

Heeseung looked away, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

Once he gained control and looked back down, Jungwon was already halfway done with the second bag, the red staining his white shirt.

“Won, please go buy another shirt once you’re finished here.”

Jungwon nodded, releasing the bag from his lips, and looked at his shirt, “Oh fuck.”

Heeseung pulled his brown jacket off his body, setting it over Jungwon, “Use this to cover up once you’re done.”

Jungwon finished the last bag, his strength back in him.

Heeseung handed him a backpack with six more bags, “Try to spread these out until we get a shipment, I’ll call you once it’s here.”

Jungwon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, slowly standing back to his feet, taking the backpack from Heeseung.

“Thank you, Hyung.”

“Yeah yeah,” he clicked his tongue, “I better not see you in that state ever again, you hear me?”

Jungwon nodded, “Please don’t tell the others,” and was out of the hospital.

That’s when he met you. The scent of your blood filled his lungs. Jungwon has never smelt blood like yours before.

It took everything in him to not sink his fangs into your neck. To press your body against his as he takes his fill.

Jungwon felt an attraction to you that he’d never felt. A feeling of want and need. The feeling of protection and love.

And oh god all he wanted to do was have you forever.

You kept your eyes locked with his, “Why me then? Why bring me here?”

Jungwon pulled your hair behind your ear, “Because I’m attracted to you, silly. And this spot is still my favorite spot. I asked you on a date because I like you.”

All the fear you once felt was gone just like that. You couldn’t describe it, but you felt safe with him.

“If you don’t drink from humans then what was the blood on you at the restaurant?”

Jungwon chuckled, “I drank a bag before showing up to settle my thirst down.”

You moved closer to him, Jungwon taking his lips between his teeth. Your scent fills his lungs. His eyes dilated again.

“You want to drink my blood that badly?”

He nodded, “But I don’t want to just drink from you, Y/N. I want to make you my mate.”

You tilt your head, “What?”

Jungwon looks off into the distance, “Vampires mate for life. And the moment you ran into me, I felt that bond. Vampires for the most part are pack hunters, so having a mate makes being in a pack all the more worth it.”

“You’re in a pack?” you asked, wanting to know more.

Jungwon nodded, “Including me, there’s seven of us. They are basically my brothers. Five older and one younger.”

“Do they have mates?”

Jungwon sighed, “No, they don’t.”

“So you’d be the first to have a mate.”

Jungwon’s eyes widened at you, the connection between the both of you tangling together into a knot. The rush Jungwon felt, the strength that filled him at the fact of having something more precious to protect and love.

“We mate for life, you know that?”

You nodded, your face inches away from his, “I can’t describe it, but from the moment we met I felt this pull to you.”

Jungwon took your face between his hands, “It’s called fate, my dearest.”

“My dearest?” you teased him, “How old are you, Jungwon?”

He laughed, “Don’t you know never to ask a vampire their age?”

You both laughed together.

Among the laughter, Jungwon’s ears picked up the sound of footsteps on the fall leaves.

He quickly stood up, staring off into the distance the sound came from. He ran to the edge of the clearing, staring off into the forest.

Your heart sank to your stomach, “Wonnie, is everything okay?”

With a blink of an eye, Jungwon was back by your side, “Get up.”

He pulled you to your feet, his arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you to him.

“Is it your pack?” you questioned.

“Not even close to it.”

You tried finding what he could possibly be looking at until a man walked into the clearing.

“Hello there, Jungwon. Long time no see.”

Jungwon’s grip on your waist tightened, his eyes locked onto the man.

“Yeah, it’s been a couple hundred years.”

You could feel the tension between them, the sense of danger that radiated off the man across from you.

“Whatcha got there, Won?” he asked, taking a step forward, “A late-night snack?”

“Go fuck yourself, Dorian.” Jungwon snapped.

Dorian held his hands in defense, “Is that how you speak to a lifelong friend? Still, hate me enough to not share with me? I haven’t drank in hours.”

You looked harder at him, noticing his eyes were bright crimson.

“Jungwon, his eyes…”

“I know, he just finished hunting.”

Dorian chuckled, “Caught me.”

His eyes locked on yours, your heart nearly stopping at the contact.

“I thought you and your pack didn’t drink directly from humans, why are you gatekeeping her? Hmm?”

Jungwon didn’t answer, his grip on you not wavering.

“We're leaving,” Jungwon finally said, stepping back.

“Jungwon,” Dorian sang, “Give her to me, I promise I’ll share. I could smell her scent from miles away. I couldn’t help but follow it. Give her here.”

Jungwon swung you behind him, “She’s mine and mine alone, don’t you dare fucking touch her!”

Dorian threw his head back in laughter, “Awe this is adorable, you mated with a human.”

Jungwon gridded his teeth, “We are leaving.”

“Oh, no you’re not. You’re giving me your mate.”

In a flash, Dorian was at your side, attempting to reach for your neck, but Jungwon was quicker.

Dorian was flung in the opposite direction, but not soon after was he back.

“Y/N, GET BACK!” he yelled at you, pushing you back, and using his full body weight to grip onto Dorian.

You tried to stand up, but your legs were putty underneath you. Your whole body shook, too scared to move.

You watched as they fought, Dorian cutting a massive gash onto Jungwon’s chest.

Jungwon cried out, and gritted his teeth to stop the pain.

It was probably the bond between the two of you, but you felt every inch of pain he felt.

You wanted to run to him, to save him. But you were so damn powerless.

“Damn, didn’t think you getting a mate would make you so weak!”

Jungwon’s strength hasn’t fully returned to him after not drinking for months, it took everything in him to hold Dorian at bay.

Dorian gripped onto Jungwon’s neck.

“Jungwon!” you screamed.

“STAY BACK!” He snapped back.

Dorian laughed, “Don’t worry, Jungwon. She’ll follow you to hell once I’m finished with her.”

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Jungwon barely managed to get out.

Tears filled your eyes, and you used all your strength to stand to your feet. You had to do something.

A gust of wind flew past you, six men appearing in the clearing, surrounding Jungwon and Dorian.

“Oh this is fantastic, they came to your rescue.”

“Let go of our brother,” one spoke up, his silver hair slowly falling into his face.

You looked at the six men around you. The protection you felt from them, the safeness you felt. This must be Jungwon’s pack.

“You pack hunters are always a pain in the ass,” Dorian chuckled, slowly loosening his grip on Jungwon.

“We are stronger together,” the purple-haired one scoffed, “it’s something you’d never understand.”

“Hmmm,” Dorian took some steps back, “This is a sign to take my leave.”

Dorian took one last look at you before he disappeared.

The six men rushed to Jungwon, and you followed right after them.

You dropped in front of him, taking his head in your hands, “Wonnie?”

“I’m okay, my love.” he was barely able to speak but still held his perfect smile.

“We need to get out of here,” the youngest one said, “before Dorian comes back, which he will.”

The boys helped Jungwon to his feet, “he’s not healing fast enough,” one with a thick Australian accent spoke.

“Get him to the safe house,” purple hair said, “someone covers our tracks and try to mask her scent.”

Everyone nodded.

“Heeseung,” Jungwon whispered, “get her there safely.”

Heeseung nodded, his purple locks falling out of place.

With a shift move, Heeseung had you on his back and was running out of the forest.

“What about Jungwon?”

“Jay and Sunghoon have him, don’t worry. He’s safe.”

“And his bike?”

“Niki will drive it, while Sunoo and Jake cover our scent, yours more specifically.”

You dropped your head into Heeseung’s shoulder, blaming yourself for this happening.

Soon enough you both made it to the safe house. Jungwon, Jay, and Sunghoon were already inside.

You ran as fast as you could inside to Jungwon, kneeling in front of him on the couch he laid on.

“We are out of bags.” Sunghoon whispered to Heeseung, “We never restocked from the last time we were here.”

Even with their whispers, you knew this was bad. If Jungwon can’t get any blood to heal, he’ll die.

“I’ll have to get some from the hospital, but we don’t have much, and if a patient comes in and needs it…” Heeseung covered his mouth with his hands.

“There’s some at my clinic,” Jay said, “We should have enough to where it won’t hurt us.”

“Are you all doctors?” you asked, looking between the three of them.

“Nah,” Sunghoon laughed, “Those two are,” he said pointing at Heeseung and Jay.

“Vampires that are doctors…” you found that interesting.

Heeseung smiled, “I like you already.”

“How did you know where to find us?” You asked.

“The bond you two have, we have one similar,” Jay looked over at his younger member, “The moment Dorian slashed his chest, we all felt it. We felt that pain.”

You nodded, thankful they arrived when they did.

“Sunghoon,” Jay checked his watch, “Hee and I will go find bags, Sunoo and Jake just arrived and Niki is almost here, stand on guard with them to make sure Dorian comes nowhere near here.”

Sunghoon agreed.

“She’s a part of our pack now,” Heeseung said, “Kill anyone who tries to touch her.”

And in a blink of an eye, Heeseung and Jay left, and Sunghoon was out front.

You pushed Jungwon’s hair to the side, his breathing uneven as he fought through the pain.

“Wonnie..”

“I’m okay,” he slowly said, barely able to speak.

You felt the pull of your bond with him, the knot loosening.

You pulled your shirt down, revealing more of your neck, “Drink”

Jungwon shook his head, “No.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, “I just found you, I can’t lose you in the same day.”

All Jungwon could do was stare back at you. He wanted to drink from you desperately but didn’t want to hurt you.

“Jungwon, please. We are supposed to be mates forever,” you pulled the shirt down even further, revealing your shoulder.

He stared at your neck. His fangs slowly came to a point.

You went to ask him again, but he was faster.

Jungwon’s fangs broke your skin, his hand on the other side of your neck.

Your blood drove Jungwon crazy. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Jungwon felt his wounds closing up, his strength and breath coming back.

You dipped your head forward, resting on his shoulder, “Won I’m getting lightheaded.”

Jungwon released your neck from his lips, taking deep breaths as he laid back down, licking your remaining blood from his lips, his beautiful crimson red eyes slowly fading back to brown.

You checked his chest, his wounds were completely healed and looked as if they were never there.

“Thank you,” Jungwon said, taking your hand in his, “I know the first date was the shittest date ever.”

You giggled, “No Wonnie, it was perfect.”

He smiled, “You’re stuck with me forever anyway. We will have plenty of chances to have better dates.”

“Wouldn’t I have to be a vampire to have forever?” You asked, now worried that your forever will only last as long as your life does.

“Baby,” Jungwon sat up, pulling you to him, “We will cross that turning you vampire bridge when it gets here. First, we need to protect you from Dorian.”

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You’ll also be stuck with my hyungs and the maknae for the rest of time too, hope you’re okay with that.”

You nodded, “I feel connected to them almost as much as I am connected with you. They are perfect, just like you.”

Jungwon pulled you in for a kiss and then a small kiss on your nose.

“Forever?” Jungwon whispered.

“Forever.” you replied back.

Six other voices also joined in, “Forever with us too!”

You smiled at your new family.

This ended up being one killer of a date.

#wonnie #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon x reader #reader x jungwon #reader x enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #strangers to lovers #vampiresbleeding #yeonzzzn writing

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her-favorite · 8 months

Text

consumption; lee

lee x f!reader

warnings: cannibalism (it’s b&a, obviously) - do not read if you’re triggered about this subject and/or sensitive to this content!!! also before anyone says anything, i obvi do not condone cannibalism (i’m only saying this bc there’s a lot of stupid ppl on this app that take things the wrong way!!!!!) this is just a fanfic and i find the ‘cannibalism being a metaphor for love’ thing fascinating.

wc: 1247

a/n: this is short (and my first lee fic!! i love him sm, there needs to be more content for him on here - and everywhere tbh) but this idea has been in my mind since i first watched bones and all (FANTASTIC movie btw)

summary: consumption; the act of consuming, as by use, decay, or destruction.

This ringing wouldn’t stop in your ear.

It began in your right, only to circle around and plague your left. You weren’t sure when it had started but you quickly grew agitated with the sound. Increasing in volume as seconds went by, it seemed to follow the rhythm of your heart. You only caught onto that once your body had fallen to the floor.

You felt (and heard) the violent crack as your head collided with the wooden surface… but that ringing was back again. It was the only thing you could focus on.

Louder, louder, louder.. quiet.. louder..

It would fade and then come back full force, almost like it was teasing you. It wanted you to move, to make it stop because it knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You tried to move your arms, but you couldn’t. You didn’t know why or what was holding them down, but your body knew better than to fight it.

Hot.

What is that? Your head turns barely until it lets your eyes search the floor beside you. Red. Everything was red; coated, covered. What is that?

Your hands wouldn’t allow you to touch it. Your heart began to quicken. Was it going to burst out of your chest? What’s happening?

Ringing.. louder..

Click. Creak. Click.

“Baby, I’m home!” Lee. Your lee, he was home. How long had it been since he left? An hour? Five? A day? A year?

“Love?” His voice always made you swoon. The way the letters slid off of his tongue makes goosebumps form on your skin no matter how many times he says it. His heavy footsteps sound across the floor as you faintly hear a bag being placed onto the ground.

Your eyes fight to stay open as your lover searches for you, only to close once he finds you. “Holy shit,” had you been completely conscious, you would’ve breathed out a laugh at his shocked state. But you were in no place to tease. “Y/N? Hey, hey, Y/N,” you were sure bruises were going to form on his bare knees as he throws himself to the floor to kneel beside you. Always putting your health before his, something you knew would get him into trouble at some point. He always said that it didn’t matter as long as you were okay.

“No, no, Y/N,” Lee’s hand reaches forward and rests on your cheek. “Open your eyes, baby, please,” vulnerability came easy to him when he was with you. He trusted you, he was yours. He had nothing to worry about with you, nothing to hide. So why hide this side of him from the person that matters most to him?

Obeying him as much as you could, your eyelids flutter some before you can get them open. A sigh of relief left his soft lips in response. His opposite hand reached up, but hesitated, noticing the puddle of blood pouring from underneath your head.

“We need to get you up, sweetheart. I need you to sit up for me, okay? I need,” he chokes, swallowing dryly as his eyes take in the devastating sight in front of him: his lover frozen on the floor, barely conscious, bleeding profusely.

“No,” the first word you’ve spoken since he left.

“No? Wha.. what? Y/N, love, you need to sit up.” He argues, desperation quickly filling his voice. “Please.” Lee retracts his hand immediately once he sees you shut your eyes and open your mouth in a silent scream when he ghosts his fingers over the back of your head.

The ringing was back.

Is it in your left ear or right this time? You couldn’t tell.

Your heart was thumping faster than you remember. Boom, boom, boom, boom.. blood in your ears, ringing, ringing, ringing..

“Y/N? Y/N! C’mon, love. I’m right here, come back to me.” Lee pleads and begs as he watches you drift, leaning down and pressing his head against your chest. Endless tears stream from his gorgeous eyes, soaking your shirt through.

“Eat me.”

Lee heard the ringing this time. It was in his left ear before his right, then he felt his heart pounding against his chest, fighting to get out.

“No. No, Y/N,” he moves back up to look at you, shaking his head harshly. “Are you fucking insane? I can’t,” a sob escapes his mouth, cutting himself off. He felt sick, disgusting.

“It was always going to end like this, Lee. You know that.” Your voice was a whisper, but it was just loud enough for your lover to hear. “Eat me, have me, I’m at your disposal,” as you spit out any words you could think of, you barely registered the way Lee was begging you to stop. Sobs raked his body as he leaned against you, skin hot and red. His body shook in despair, his head shaking back and forth, never once contemplating your offer.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop,” it was a mantra falling from his lips, beseeching you to do so. Flinching when he felt a cold hand press against his cheek, he looked up at you to be met with his reflection- tears cascading down your cheeks, the sound of your heart beating sickly fast, and those half-lidded eyes. Those alone he could see your pain in.

“I’m begging you, baby.” He couldn’t help a sob leave his throat at the name, silently cursing himself for thinking- knowing it’ll be the last time he’ll ever hear it. “Eat me, Lee. Please.”

And how could he ever say no to you?

It was foreign, the way his teeth dug into your skin. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was to come home to you lying on the couch and joining you, playfully annoying you with his kisses and touch. He didn’t want this; he didn’t want you lying on the floor of your shared bedroom, blood pooling underneath your body as he consumed you fully. Utterly. Desperately.

Your screams pierced his ears, that same ringing coming back to haunt him. He knew he was going to be hearing your pain-filled noises when he lies awake at night. Never will he sleep again; he could never without you. He vowed to himself that he would protect you, take care of you… the thought made him feel sick. It was fucking revolting to be doing what he was doing right now. Fucking gross and wrong and vile and fucking disgusting. He thinks with such anger as he devours you, love and utter desperation coursing through his veins.

There was nothing else so intimate than being ingested by your lover, filled with their purity and essence. Lee felt himself become one with you as he holds you, obeying the last order that you had given him.

The moment he feels you grow cold, he stops. He watches the way the light leaves your eyes and the way your expression disappears, like it had never been there in the first place. The last thing you had seen was your lover consuming you, taking you for what you begged to be: his last meal. Because who could continue on without their other half?

Lee lied beside you as his skin broke and peeled, pleading to be set free. He let it take him as his hand took your cold one.

He was yours, and you his. Now you were both truly connected.

Entirely.

#timothée chalamet x reader #lee x reader #bones and all #lee bones and all #timothée x reader #lee bones and all x reader #timothée chalamet imagine

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mvltisstuff · 1 year

Note

Eddie Diaz x female reader

Eddie and reader are childhood sweethearts and have been engaged for 4 years with their wedding is in a few months, reader is also a firefighter with the 118 & also maddie’s best friend. Reader is also close friends with Ravi and Buck. Reader is walking home one night alone after collecting food for Chris and Eddie when she gets mugged and attacked and left for dead in an alleyway, she has multiple injuries such as a gunshot or stab wound, dislocated shoulder, dislocated knee, broken arm along with cuts and bruises to her face. Someone finds her and she ends up in the hospital in a coma, eddie has a breakdown in the hospital and Chris also visits reader crying. Reader wakes up and panics about the wedding as she needs physical therapy on her knee that was injured, worried that she won’t be able to walk down the isle to Eddie, she has a panic attack and everything goes wrong. Maddie tries to help her through it. You can decide on the rest. 🩶🩶

sorry this is so long😅🥲

hope you’re doing well and having a great summer ❤️‍🩹🤍 xx

let the light in - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

a/n: this request is from quite some time ago, but it’s been in the drafts for too long! i apologize and hope you enjoy <3 also this is not proofread btw 😭

each hit to her body ricocheted through her muscles, feeling the marks and scars form on her skin. it was a foreign feeling, one of fear and pain. y/n was helpless on the ground of the alley, and there was nothing she could do.

her heartbeat thumped in her ears, and she was horrified that she might not even look the same, let alone be the same. she faces things like this every single day, saving someone’s life but she could barely manage to save her own.

she only wanted to bring home food for chris and eddie, her beloved ones who instantly became her family. she was almost like a mother to christopher, and he was connected to her as she was always there for him.

the moment eddie proposed to y/n, he knew that there would be no hesitation. he had never felt this way about a woman before, let alone want to live with her until their hair turned grey. every single part of y/n left eddie enamored, just falling for her all over again. her persistence and attitude was nothing but precious to him, and he couldn’t help but love every part of her.

he waited for her to come home, knowing that she would be stopping at the grocery store. it was late, the sky dark and the streets only illuminated by the street lamps. he knows how tough she is, and she’d be ok. so, he patiently waited at home with his son, the worries in the far back of his head.

as y/n’s body was dragged about and penetrated with sharpness, all she could think about was her fiancé and stepson at home. the two people she loves most in this world. it was so hard not to give up and let these criminals take her life, but she knew neither of them could deal with her life being stripped away.

let alone the 118. bucks been her best friend since day one, being the first supporter of her and eddie’s relationship. he completely adores her and her humor, along with her strong work ethic. ravi has always looked up to her from the moment he stepped into the station on his first day. she assisted him and taught him with kindness, but didn’t go easy on him. she’s the reason that ravi is the firefighter he is, and he idolizes her for that, in and out of work. hen and chimney have been alongside her, running into each building and saving a civilian. she was almost too good to be true, and the people who attacked her had no idea.

the men heard the crumbling of rocks underneath tires, and scurried away into the midnight. y/n was left there to rot, laying on the hard ground and feeling herself bleed out. her entire body was in agony, but it was nothing compared to the thought of losing herself.

her weak fingers traveled to her pockets, taking out her phone with a shattered screen. surprisingly, the group wasn’t smart enough to steal it, and she thanked god for it. her blurry vision was tempting her, minutes away from fading into complete darkness. her mind was shrouded with negativity, but a flicker of hope came in when she heard maddies voice on the other side of the phone.

“maddie.” y/n groans, practically inaudible. maddie freezes at the letters of her name leave this woman’s mouth, being strictly confused but also horrified. “y/n.”

the slightly collection of blood in her mouth made the words jumble together, maddie using every ounce of brain power to put the pieces together.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t-“ the light goes off in maddies brain, finally being able to put the letters together, forming y/n’s name. “y/n?” she hears a painful groan of agreement from the muffled earpiece. “can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“they tried to kill me,” y/n informs her, slowing her breathing but it only makes her head spin faster. her eyes are closed, fighting the unconsciousness that’s begging to take over. “maddie, i’m not gonna be able to stay awake, but… i-i’m somewhere near the interchange.”

“y/n, honey, you have to try and stay awake for me, okay?” maddie begs, her eyes filling with moisture as she hears y/n’s small voice come through the phone in stutters. “y/n?” the phone lands over her torso, beginning to be stained with blood as y/n’s mind is shrouded in black, unable to process anything any longer.

eddie sat in the living room with christopher, watching a show for chris to practice his spanish. they were both invested in the plot, but also trying to expose christopher to the language.

eddie adored nights like this with his son. christopher is his sun, and his world revolves around him. he protects christopher with every ounce of his being, and there’s not a moment where he regrets any of it. the room was dimmed, the wick of the candle radiating a sweet smell as the words on the tv came through.

there was excitement in his mind as well, knowing y/n would be home soon to greet them. her alluring smile would be seen the moment she stepped in the door, and her bewitching voice became music to the boys. instead, when he heard others car doors slam, he was confronted with silence from his front door afterwards.

the next 15 minutes passed slowly but surely, and there were no signs of y/n coming home. he checked his phone only to find no messages or calls. his thoughts began to run through everything that could’ve happened, and he attempted to focus on the brighter ones. he finally heard the knock on the door, the pounding coming off assertive. somehow, he still wanted to find optimism and it could’ve been y/n.

when the door swung open, a burly man who was slightly taller than eddie stood in front of him. he had on a jacket with the LAPD, and eddie’s heart fell at the look on his face. it was blank on the outside, but eddie could tell he was here to deliver something horrid. he listened as the officer deeply uttered his first and last name, christopher lifting his head to the door at the unfamiliar voice.

in this line of work, eddie knew exactly why the man was here. “where is she?” eddie’s voice crackles, showing weakness when he’s so used to being strong.

the ride to the hospital was silent, deafening silence that only turned up the volume on eddie’s fears. the chugged through his head like a train on tracks, and he could barely see straight. he had absolutely no idea what to expect, only knowing that his girl was in the hospital. for all he could know, she could be wide awake or she could be in the morgue.

it felt like someone had grasped his heart, restricting him from breathing as he saw the almost empty waiting room. he desperately looked for anyone, finally landing his eyes on maddie.

“maddie!” he shouts, stomping over to her in anxiety. “what the hell happened?”

“i got a call,” maddie told him, her voice shaky and uncertain. “i could barely even tell who it was -her voice was so different- she told me that they tried to… they tried to kill her.” maddie mumbles the last part out, not wanting to imagine her closest friend’s life being taken.

the room started becoming blurry, all sights and sounds around eddie becoming irrelevant. it felt like he was the only person in the room, and someone from above was pointing and laughing at him. it was like a gunshot, being thrown back at the sudden force, or in this case, the sudden news that someone had attempted murder on y/n.

“i called buck, he’s on his way,” maddie says, fidgeting with her hands as she looks into eddie’s distant eyes. “eddie, sit down-“

“what room is she in?”

“i don’t know if you want to see her like this so fa-“

“maddie, i love you like a sister, but if you don’t tell me what room she’s in, i swear…”

“she’s in 319,” and that was the last thing eddie heard before taking wide steps through the hallways, his feet swiftly carrying him through the hospital as he eyes the door numbers. 316, 317, 318, and the one that held y/n inside. he prepared himself for the worst, but nothing could compare to actually seeing it.

each cut on her face was surrounded by a thick bruise disguising her angelic features. her soft, welcoming expression was replaced with discomfort and tightness. her eyes were tired and screwed shut, begging to remain closed and her lips were tightly coiled around the thick tube down her throat. the mechanical breaths pumped through her body, and eddie only hurt himself more with every step he took to her room.

she heard the thumping of footsteps down the hall, and prayed that it was eddie on his way to save her. she wanted him to just pick her up and they could run away, live their life and forget about all that happened that evening. she wanted to smile, but the look on his face was only disappointing.

his face looked as if someone had landed a punch to his gut, leaving his stomach dropping and shakiness building through his hands. he could barely figure out the words to say. his beautiful girl, the one he lays with at night and the one who kisses him with her soft lips. the one who he cries to and laughs with, and someone tried to steal it.

she had a long, white cast over her leg, being slightly elevated in the bed. he could see the bandages all over her body, and the thick wrap of gauze around her belly. he didn’t have any idea what to say, and it brought eddie back to the former years.

before he and y/n dated, shannon had passed away as eddie watched the life leave her eyes. he felt everything, the guilt, the grief, the anger. it took too long for things to return, but he never, ever wanted to experience that again. he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t manage to push through losing y/n.

y/n wanted to move so bad, she used all fibers of her muscles to try and bring herself up to meet eddie, but she was only met with his frozen figure staring down at her own. someone had put chains on her body, restricting her from moving or speaking, let alone open her eyes. she wanted to be caught while she was falling, but was just left dangling in the air without a hand to grab onto. just by the aura eddie reflects, she knew he was there.

he stepped closer, running his smooth fingers down her rough wounds, brushing her silky hair down. the hissing of her intubation flooded the silent room, realizing that it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

the door had remained open, the doctor entering the room and knocking on the open door. he stepped out and stood in front of the bed, carrying binders and charts in his arms. he looked through them, explaining each familiar term to eddie as he went down the list of y/n’s injuries. the doctor knew eddie well, him returning to the hospital to drop off a patient, or god forbid a patient himself. he let eddie sit alone next to her in the room, watching the very small movements of her chest.

the next person came rushing in, much faster than the doctor had. buck swung the door open, maddie trailing behind him in hesitation to see her friend like this.

“jesus,” buck whispers under his breath, stepping closer to eddie who’s elbows kneel on his knees. “you holding up?”

“i’m fine,” eddie tells his friend, fully aware he’s far from it. his eyes wander down to the ring in maddies hand, the one eddie remembers shining in the little box. it’s been years, but with their schedules, they could never find a date. they found their perfect venue and time, and y/n was so excited. now, it was questioned whether or not she would even make it to their wedding.

“i’ll call her family and take care of stuff for her and work,” buck assists, patting eddie’s shoulder before moving back out of the room with his cell phone. maddie takes this opportunity to step closer to eddie, and try to touch his heart to help ease the pain.

“you need to eat, or walk for a bit, eddie.” maddie tells him, lightly throwing her arms up and receiving zero glances from him. when she notices the distance in his eyes, she knows exactly what he needs. “eddie!”

he perks up, looking into maddies soothing eyes and seeing her begin to walk toward the door. “she’ll be ok for a minute, please just come with me.” she pleads, finally achieving to get eddie out of the uncomfortable hospital chair.

eddie follows maddie through the halls like he’s just a kid, letting his mother lead him through. it was a strange feeling, one that was out of his control. the control that he’s so used to having. maddie sauntered casually through the thick white walls and metal stretchers in the halls. she looked up and down the stretch of area, seeing no nurses or doctors. she swung open the storage closet, yanking eddie in and standing in front of the door. she leaned against it, looking into eddie’s exhausted eyes. they were so close to breaking, and maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“it’s ok to let yourself take a break.” maddie says to eddie, watching him place his hands on his hips and allow his tired eyes to well up. “do whatever you have to. scream, cry, lay on the ground, throw those lap pads. it’s clear as day that you’re about to fall apart and you can’t carry this weight and be there for her at the same time.”

he spun around, spitting out a dry chuckle and losing the eye contact. he couldn’t face it, he couldn’t handle someone watching him look so weak. however, when maddie turned around, he knew that she was safe, and that he was too.

first, his breathing starts to pick up along with the sharp burning in his nostrils. it was as if the gears of an attack started turning, and eddie knew now that there was nothing to stop them.

his hands began to shake, messily frizzing his gelled hair as his fingers ran through it. his already tightened chest had began to feel like it was being crushed, and someone was wrapping their strong fingers around his heart.

the tears started coming in constant streams down his cheeks, leaving shiny residue on the soft skin. he tasted the salty cries on his lips whenever he took a deep inhale. with a strange sensation, there’s a feeling of lightness throughout his body. he knows too well that y/n remains helpless in the other room, but he also knows that he can’t control it.

in such a simply way, eddie cries. he cries for his son, who he knows is going to be completely shredded by the news of y/n’s condition. he cries for her parents, thinking about someone’s little girl in that bed. he cries for himself, watching his beloved fiancé lose herself. of course, he cries for y/n and how everything she loves has vanished due to the villains in this world.

when maddie turns back around, eddie is hunched over with his head in his hands. his fingers aggressively swipe at his eyes and cheeks, trying to rid any signs of upset in his face. maddie gives him the smallest, but the most reassuring smile that he’s gotten in a while. she opens the door, stepping out and they both walk back to y/n’s room.

eddie didn’t want christopher to see y/n so vulnerable like this. y/n had been a role model to chris since the day he met her, becoming an instant prized person in his life. christopher knew y/n was hurt, buck being the one to break the news as eddie physically couldn’t form the words. a few days had passed, and christopher still had not seen y/n, or barely even known what happened. someone did something bad, and that’s the only thing he could handle hearing.

christopher begged to see y/n to his dad, who tried to hide the situation from him as long as possible. he allowed eventually, becoming aware of the unfairness, and that christopher deserves to see favorite person, too.

buck walked into the doors with christopher, eddie meeting them at the front. eddie had become more accustomed to the sight of y/n on the bed, and her limp figure resting silently. he couldn’t help but let out a cheesy grin at his son, seeing him excitedly walk in to see y/n.

“dad!” he shouts, stepping closer to eddie who then embraces him.

“hey, chris!” he replies, thrilled to see his boy after the past few days from hell.

“is y/n better yet?” he asks, and the naivety almost breaks eddie.

“uh, not yet, buddy,” eddie mumbles. “she’s still sleeping.”

“can i please see her?”

“you can, of course, but christopher,” eddie kneels down to match his height, placing his hands on christopher’s sides. “i want you to know that she doesn’t look normal right now. it’s okay to be scared.”

“are you scared?”

eddie looks at the ground, not wanting his son to see him in his moment of weakness. he looks at buck, who wears the matching expression of glumness on his face. “yeah, i am. but, it’s going to be ok.” he takes christopher to the room, greeting everyone else who came to visit her.

hen leans against the wall of the room, toward the end of her bed. chim sits against the window, a grimace formed on his lips. ravi had come to visit, only being able to watch y/n on the small mattress. bobby watched, painfully, from the corner as well. athena had stopped by, but she was still on duty and had to leave.

christopher walked in, stepping up toward the bed and seeing a smile form on everyone’s face. they adore him, but he doesn’t understand how they can smile right now. “can she hear me?”

“i think she can,” hen replies, giving another grieving, but comforting expression

“y/n,” he begins. “i know you’re really hurt, but we all need you to come back. it’s not your fault, but you have to come back to us, and dad. everyone is here for you, and we all love you. you’ve always taken care of me, and i need you. you can’t let the bad guys win.”

eddie leans against the doorframe, his hand over his mouth and tears sprinting back down his face. he attempts to choke back the audible sobs, but the silent weeping in the corner almost felt worse.

the days passed, slow and agonizing days of seeing her only linear condition. it felt like nothing was going anywhere, until the doctors came in to check her on the week mark.

“her brain function is looking pretty good, it’s honestly best that the coma saved some of it. her heart rate looks extraordinary, and her white blood cell count is good, mr. diaz.”

the good news comes light as a feather to eddie, barely touching the optimism in his head. he knows he should be happy, but until he sees that beautiful face that he calls his awake and alert, nothing will be the same. he knew he should be grateful that she’s even breathing, but what he would give to be able to bring her back to the surface and hold his hand.

as much as it stung his heart, life continued without y/n’s consciousness. he had a child who had needs, a family who had needs, the person inside of him that also had needs. he was too smart to know that he was destroying himself every minute that he spent next to her brittle body. maddie swore to spend every second with her that eddie couldn’t be.

she sat besides her, spoke to her, told her stories and read her books. maddie always let y/n cry on her shoulder, now it was maddie weeping on her bedside. hours ticked by on the shiny hospital clocks, and the sun crept down and dimmed the sky along with the room. maddies eyes were pushed with weight, her own sleepiness covering her thoughts. she allowed herself to slump back on the chair, pulling her legs up and her breathing began to shallow, lulling herself to sleep.

the next time she awoke was around six in the morning, the morning sky slowly being illuminated by the orange sunrise. the light outside was glorious, the painting on the horizon better than any artist could create. the swift streaks of clouds only simply covered the sliver of sun peeking out.

when maddie stretched out her arms, she smiled at the warm colors outside the big glass window, she searched around the room, noticing the soft sound of fabric shuffling on the bed.

it was almost like a ghost had appeared and laid in the bed, moving itself around over the sheets. maddie directed her eyes closer, seeing y/n’s fragile fingers twitch and run over the smooth bed.

“y/n?” maddie asks, her voice still weak from her slumber. she begins to sit up, faster than before, to examine y/n’s face. there’s a brighter color to her features, her cheeks became more pigmented and she looked more full. she didn’t just look like another body in the hospital, waiting for her heart to give up on itself.

the more words that left maddie’s mouth, the more flickering she saw on y/n’s face. her heart was pounding against her chest, feeling the anxiety rise through her spine. “hey, y/n.” she whispers, giving a reassuring squeeze to her hand. after a few moments that felt like centuries, y/n’s eyelashes fluttered a bit, and her red, tired irises were finally revealed again.

eddie was laying on the couch, unable to sleep in the bed that once held the couple together. it felt eerily cold without her, his hand subconsciously floating over to run a hand over her back, only to be confronted with the chilly satin. he never wanted to leave y/n, but he also know that she would never want him to fall apart in the hospital watching her. he so badly wanted his eyes to finally shut, being able to give him even an hour of rest. someone had their fingers holding open his eyes, painting horrible images in his mind.

he turned on his back, his arm behind his head and staring into the bumpy, popcorn ceilings of his home. the home he shares with his son and his fiancée, the two people he cherishes the most. now, it was filled with darkness and loss and he prayed that he could get it back.

something grabbed ahold of his mind, halting his thoughts with the blaring noise of his ringtone. when he saw the ID of maddie illuminate his phone, he thought of the worst. either y/n was dead, and he never gets to see her again, or nothing has changed, and there is only more of an agonizing wait.

“eddie, you should get here,” was all he needed to hear over the phone before he roused christopher, dropping him off to get more rest at his tías, and eddie continued to speed over to the hospital.

the tube was gone. it was replaced with a skinnier cord, only pushing air into her through her lungs. her face, still bruised and scraped, but so alive. her eyes shined through the room, meeting eddie’s with a slight upturn of her lip. she was laying on her side with her hand under her cheek. the dark bags under her eyes were clear, but practically matching with eddie’s.

the moment he walked into that room and saw her, his rapid heartbeat began to slow, leaving a dropping sensation in his chest. he scurried over, not being able to stop himself from placing a long kiss on her lips, the ones that had just almost been taken from him.

“i am so, so sorry, mi vida, i wish i were here when you woke up,” he cries, tears welling up in his eyes.

“but you’re here now,” she rasps out, trying to lose the discomfort in her voice. “you’ve been here the whole time for me.”

“don’t ever leave me like that again,” he sighs, pressing his forehead against her own, letting her wired hand be placed on his cheek.

“i wasn’t scared of them,” y/n tells him. “i was scared that they’d take you away from me. i don’t ever want to leave you in the dust like i did last night.”

“last week, honey,” eddie grins with a bit of pity on his voice.

“oh, yeah,” she chuckles a bit, but afterwards grimacing at the pain in her abdomen.

“you should go to sleep, get some real rest this time.”

“i just slept for like, 160 hours, eddie.”

“i know, baby, but you still need to let yourself heal.” she smiles up at him, silently thanking him for his gentleness and tranquility. she nods, as he steps out to see the doctor. maddie returns back in, clutching her purse by her side and smiling her gorgeous maddie beam.

“hi again,” y/n smiles, seeing her best friend walk into the room once more.

maddie carefully walks in, placing her bag down and hugging y/n’s laying figure. “how are you feeling?”

“physically, a bit better,” y/n says.

“but what about the y/n i love. how is she doing in there?”

y/n pauses, all the thoughts rushing back through her head. every sentence screams through her ears, wanting to push itself to the front of her mind. every worry, every fear comes clean to the surface.

“maddie, i don’t know what to do,” her eyes begin to water, and her voice starts to tremble along with her hands. “we’ve been trying to plan this wedding for so long, and those men just took it all away from me. how am i supposed to just move on from that? i’m never going to be able to be the same after that. and eddie,” she sighs, pushing a long exhale out through her mouth. “i feel like i completely destroyed him with this. and now, i have to go to PT and i can’t even walk down the isle by myself! one of these days he’s gonna realize that i’m not worth anything anymore. i’m horrified that every day he has to take care of me, is just one part of him that doesn’t want me anymore.”

her breathing picks up, maddie trying to ease her but ultimately not being able to with just a simple touch. she looks at eddie, still focused on the doctor.

“listen, y/n/n,” maddie begins. “that gang took so much from you, but you have so many people on your side. they lost, you won. and with eddie, he would bleed himself dry if it meant you came home with him. every single breath you take is worth a million dollars to him. you are the most, fighter bitch i’ve ever met, and if anyone’s going to bounce back from this, it’s you. the moment you two kiss on that one night, all this worrying will be for nothing. he is your soldier, and he’ll never leave you. he would fight the gods if it meant he could keep you next to him every night.”

the tears fall onto her pillowcase, leaving several dark patches besides her face. eddie turns back around, letting himself back into to room only to see the upset written all over y/n’s face.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, the sweetness in the delivery of his words. maddie looks up at him, her eyebrows tilting up together in a sadness for her friend. sharp inhales and gasps come through y/n’s body, using her shaking hand to wipe the wet tears from her cheeks. “you’re ok, baby, i got you.” he tells her, sitting besides her on the bed and caressing her side. maddie kisses her cheek, stepping out of the room to leave the engaged pair alone.

“i never want to be away from you again,” she sobs. “promise me you’ll never leave me, and i promise i’ll always love you.”

“i’ll make this promise to you until the day we grow grey hair, or the day you don’t remember me anymore. i’ll promise you this every single day. i mean it when i say i love you more than anything.”

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smoothielenny · 1 year

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ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ

Neteyam x omatikaya!gn!reader

Summary: You’re a very shy person to the point that you rarely speak to others. You only nodded and show body languages to communicate. Everyone just assumed that you might have a disability that causes you not to talk, but you’re just a very timid person.

Warning: bullying, teasing, not proofread

[one•two•three]

Y’all gave so much love to my first writing ever. Thank you, so here’s a gift for you guys❤️

You love walking around the forest. You always adore the little things in life, specifically insects. You love watching them crawl on top of the leaf whether carrying their food or running away from you. Everyone finds you weird for it, but you didn’t care much. You’re very distracted in your own world.

There’s this one insect that you find intriguing, it has a purple with blue stripes on it. You followed the little bug crawling towards underneath the leaf. You frowned from it’s action, the bug thought that you are a threat, but try to prove that you aren’t.

You ripped a leaf from a plant and use it to scoop water nearby a pond. You came back to the bug and offered the water to it. It look at you with a bit of confusion then look at the water. It step towards it, but still doesn’t trust it so it step back. You move the leaf near the bug which hesitates to walk back, but eventually does and drink the water.

You smiled and lay down to watch the bug beside you drinking it’s water. It was only a short time of enjoyment until a foot is set on your presence. You look up and it was those boys, those boys who always teases you. They never leave you alone, they love to taunt you. You sigh and stand up as the bug flee away.

“Oh it’s (y/n), I thought it was another bug.” The boy cackles with his friend. They sneered and one them approached you that causes you to step back, “Oh c’mon, I don’t bite.” His sarcastic tone made your ear flat. You just wanna be left alone.

You turned around and tried to walk from them, but they grabbed your wrist and tail and starts pulling them here and there. You cried in pain as they laugh, even through pain you couldn’t let out a loud help, you just injured it.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” They all turned around on the same direction and ran away. ‘Finally’ you thought, you groaned as you stand up. You brush off some dirt all over your body. You look at the boy who just saved you. It was Neteyam. Your eyes widen, you’ve never personally talked to the son of Olo’eyktan. Well as if you would, you’re too timid to talk.

“Are you okay?” He walked close to you. You step back refusing to look at him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just checking.” You glance at him, you suddenly feel a sting from your forearm. You look at it and it has a wound, fresh blood still dripping.

Neteyam noticed and grabbed your wrist and walked, “You’re bleeding, we need to get you to grandma.” You didn’t say anything and just let him lead you.

You stumbled here and there from your weak state, Neteyam then decided to carry you (bridal style). This made your heart suddenly flutter. You can feel his warm and hard body. It gives you comfort. The boy too can feel your body warming.

You finally arrived in the Tsahik’s marui. Neteyam carefully put you down, making sure and asking if you can stand on your own and such. You just nodded and stand next to him still covering your forearm.

“Grandma, Can you help (y/n)?” Mo’at turn around to face her grandson and the injured one beside him. She walked to center then sat down. “Come here, I’ll help you.” You hesitated a bit, but Neteyam let’s you know it’ll be alright. You then sat down next to her.

She grabbed one of the paste near her, “move your hands, I need to see the wound.” You quickly remove it not wanting to disappoint her. She took a look at it for seconds. She then stand up, grabbed and wet a towel and gave it to Neteyam.

“Clean the blood off her, I’ll find a better medicine for her wound.” Neteyam just nodded and hurried himself to you. He sat down next to you, “Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” You nodded and look down.

He starts dabbing the cloth to your wound. You winced from it, “Does it hurt?” You shook your head. He continued to clean the blood off.

You didn’t know how to act. His closeness to your personal space made you a bit nervous, but at the same time comfort. He’s one of the first people who ever cared for you. It felt nice, you didn’t know you’ve been longing for something like this.

“Alright all done!” Neteyam put the clothe on the bowl and smiles at you. It made you bashful, you just look away which made the young boy frown. Mo’at then sat next to Neteyam and applied the paste. The sting shivered your whole body, you clenched your fist and bit your lip.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s almost done.” Neteyam assured. He pat your head. You look at his golden eyes and formed a wobbly smile. After a few seconds, the whole wound is covered in paste and wrapped with some leaves to stay put.

You bowed to the Tsahik as a thank you. She just nodded and took the bowl and cloth with her to clean. Neteyam helped you stand up with his hand. You felt his warm hand gently holding yours. He lead you to the entrance of the marui.

“Can you walk home by yourself?” You nodded again. You let go of his hands and walk away from him. “See you later, (y/n)!” You look back at him waving his hand.

A small smile formed on your lips, “See you later, too. Thank you, Neteyam.” You then continued to walk. Unbeknownst to you, you left the boy blushing. It was the first time he heard your voice, it was a very sweet tone.

Mo’at walked to the entrance finding her grandson staring and blushing. “Hey, where are you staring at?” Then Neteyam snap out of it.

“Oh uhm, d-did you heard them?” Neteyam asked. Mo’at tilt her head, “(y/n)? I didn’t, they could talk?” Neteyam seemed confused.

“I thought Eywa granted them not being able to speak.”

#avatar 2009 #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam headcanons #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #atwow #atwow headcanons #atwow fanfiction #atwow hcs #neteyam x you #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n

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hydrobunny · 1 year

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jump then fall (into me)

tags: fluff, established relationship, insecure reader, comfort, reo reo reo reo reo reo, lots of dialogue actually, they're drinking age, listen to jump then fall !! word count: 1.2k

“do you ever regret us?”

reo mikage jolts from his seat at his computer. the expression he fixes you with as he turns around is almost comical, all wide eyes and horror.

you can’t find it in yourself to laugh.

“what?”

you shift nervously. the satin sheets underneath you bunch awkwardly. “you know. getting together- staying together.”

he rises immediately, emails left for a later time. “what happened.” the words themselves should be a question, but his stiff tone doesn’t make it one.

you sigh, falling back on to the bed. although it’s only been two nights since the two of you checked in to this particular hotel, the bed already smells of reo’s expensive shampoo. “i dont know. sometimes i feel like i’m holding you back.”

his weight sinks into the mattress. “how the hell would you hold me back?”

you drag your hands over your face. “you’re just- you’re so you. heir to billions of yen, future ceo, hotshot football player, and you’re just barely in your twenties. shouldn’t you be out there in the wild getting into scandals every week? but you’re always just... here.”

“y/n.” even through tightly shut eyes, you can feel reo’s intense gaze on you. “is this really because you think i want to be out there making a fool of myself?” his hand gently brushes over your hair. “also, why would i get into scandals when i have you?”

you roll away with a groan. “it's not that. just- shouldn't you have had more relationships than just me? you know, all the first meetings and awkward flirting and shit. you were popular as all hell in high school, but somehow you’re still with me? isn’t it boring?”

his hand freezes, and you feel a small inkling of guilt bleed through your heart.

after a long moment, reo rises from the bed without another word. He grabs his jacket from the chair as he pads out of the room, away from you.

you shove a pillow over your face and fight the urge to scream, sigh in relief, suffocate yourself, anything.

twenty minutes later, when you’ve reached a point of contemplating if those roses in the hotel vase are fake- (they’re in water, but you swear they smell exactly like those essential oils in scented candles)- your phone vibrates from its place on the desk.

you reluctantly lift yourself up, sliding your feet into your waiting fluffy slippers. reo’s computer is still turned on from before he left, some fancy computer program steadily running. you spot a hint of a message thread with nagi before you tear your eyes away.

the notification is from your messages, from none other than reo 🦎💜 himself.

the message itself is pretty short, unlike the usually wordy messages reo sends you consistently throughout the day.

come down to hotel bar. look nice

it takes you some time to actually comprehend the message, more than a few seconds spent blinking at it blankly.

and then you’re immediately digging into your suitcase for anything considered “nice.” honestly, did reo expect you to be able to procure outfits without any hint of the dress code? was he expecting family dinner or clubbing?

and what the hell was even with this request anyway? you were pretty sure your boyfriend had a business meeting in barely forty minutes, and it’s not like you two had ended your conversation on good terms.

either way, you settle on something in between wholesome and provocative, a pretty flattering cocktail dress you hadn’t really even planned on bringing. after a moment of contemplation, you leave your hair down, sliding in a pair of glittering earrings.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were trying so hard.

but when you arrive at the bar some minutes later, reo isn’t there. in fact, there’s no one there except for a stiff bartender slowly wiping down a glass. you hesitate from your place by the doorway, shooting off a here. dont see you? message.

he leaves you on read.

it takes you another six minutes of disbelief before you finally walk into the bar, and then it’s a short two minutes of fuming before you call for your first drink.

throughout it all, you see no hint of anyone; no reo, no drunk couples, no rich guests, no one. it would actually be kind of creepy if you had it in yourself to look around or care, but you really don’t.

ten minutes later, it’s when you’re nursing your second drink of the night ( a daiquiri that honestly is not getting you drunk fast enough ) that you hear another human voice.

“haven’t seen you before, pretty. can i pay for that drink?”

your mood immediately plummets as you turn with a scowl, ready to tell whoever it is enough curses to- oh.

reo smirks at you, flashing his card towards the bartender. you stare at him in disbelief. he’s in a completely new outfit from when you saw him last, something that is definitely not appropriate for his upcoming meeting. he has a leather jacket on, for gods’ sake!

“what the fuck are you doing?” you manage to say, realizing that you’re supposed to be mad at him. “do you realize how long i’ve been waiting?”

he pointedly doesn’t respond. “another round please, for me and the lonely lady!” he says before turning back to you. “so. what brings a girl like you here?”

you literally have no idea what he’s doing. you open your mouth to respond - with what, you couldn’t say- but then reo winks at you, quick enough that you barely notice.

the words fall out of your mouth without you even realizing. “what’s it to you?”

he hums, looking you up and down. “is it wrong to want to comfort a clearly sad stranger? come on, spill out all your secrets.”

you fight the urge to smile. “well, if you say it like that…i guess i’m trying to heal my broken heart.”

he responds a beat too late. “really? what idiot broke your heart?”

“no, i was the idiot,” you sigh, looking back towards your glass. “i was a bitch for no reason. got too caught up in my head, you know?”

his hands fly to yours. “i do know. and i’m sure your idiot knows as well. in fact, if i was the guy in question, i would have told you that nothing you can do would hurt me. that any time spent with you is infinitely better than time spent with any other women.”

you meet his eyes and smile. “and if you happened to be that guy, i would probably kiss you right then and there.”

reo swallows, hard. “yeah?”

you lean toward him. “too bad you’re not him.” you stand from your seat, grinning at how your boyfriend sputters instantly, almost knocking over his cup.

your shoes click clack a rhythmic beat onto the hotel floor as you head back toward the elevator.

seconds later, reo’s familiar form bumps into you, arm linking around your waist.

“i think that was first date was awkward enough, yeah?” he says breathlessly.

you lean further into him. “it was perfect. but i think i prefer my boyfriend.”

“good thing you’re looking at him. which means..”

you laugh, stopping. “which means this.”

you tiptoe upward and finally kiss reo. he tastes like watermelon chapstick and expensive rum.

// bonus//

“hey, reo?”

“yes?”

“did you rent out that entire bar so we would be alone?”

his silence is response enough.

I loveee reblogs and comments !! <33

#reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #hydrobunny #ngl this was supposed to be sae again LOL

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