— an unedited two part ellie williams x reader fluff ; part two here
caught in a blizzard with ellie (your best friend, and coincidentally the girl you're in love with), you finally get a chance to talk about her tattoo. it's sick as fuck, btw.
a dog’s muffled bark clawed at the windows, reverberating into the small nook. you sat beside your best friend, fiddling with the pages of some comic she had found on her last run.
she, as in your best friend, as in ellie williams. the girl was sitting opposite of you, cramped by the nook’s lack of space. her legs were tangled up in yours, and she was reading a similar comic, stopping every few minutes to kick at your side and eye you. you assumed it amused her whenever you rolled your eyes and shoved your nose further into the comic.
white snuffs of cotton blurred the window. it’s pitter patter against the glass grabbed at your ears, and you turned momentarily to gaze into the blizzard outside. ice had creeped its way around the edges of the window, adorning it with crystal patterns. you wondered if it would melt away if you pressed the pad of your thumb against it, smudging it with warmth. you turned your gaze to ellie. you guessed that it would, since ellie was like that to you.
butterflies crept their way into your gut, their wings tickling your sides. she was the warmth to your cold hands, wasn't she? the comfort when you felt absent; the sun to your moon.
"hey, loser," ellie kicked at you again. you blinked, focusing on her face. "you reading or not?" her bushy brown eyebrows were scrunched into a pout as she looked down at you.
a laugh bubbled its way from your throat. "and if I'm not?"
she kicked at you again. "then you're an ass." ellie closed her comic and tossed it lightly onto the floor.
"what are you doing?"
"well, we're not reading anymore," she huffed.
you nudged her side with your foot. "I stopped reading for two seconds, els."
"and I'm offended." when you rolled your eyes, ellie's lips fell into a smirk. "what?"
"you're full of it," you tutted. she burst into a fit of loud laughter. "seriously!" she subconsciously kicked at you, and so playfully you returned the gesture.
"ouch!"
"you did this to yourself!"
shared giggles filled the quiet of the room. ellie leaned forward and pressed the palms of her hands into your legs as an attempt to keep you from kicking her. for a while, with a cheeky smile, you kept at it.
then your eyes fell against the splotch of black on her arm. examining it closer, you realized it was actually a tattoo. you had seen it before, but never so close. the faded black ink had been drawn so beautifully. there was a moth. you thought back to the butterflies in your stomach, picturing the moth instead. that moth teased at your ribcage, brushing against your heart. you swallowed thickly as you reached out to touch her tattoo.
noticing that your kicks had slowed, her grip on your knees softened and she barked, "oh yeah, baby, I fuckin' won."
then she felt something cold touch her skin and she jumped. "fuck!"
you reeled back. "you okay?"
"sorry," ellie grimaced, "didn't know you were gonna do that." your lips curled into a sappy smile. "your fingers are so cold, dude."
"like that's new."
"still!" she groaned, "like, I wouldn't be surprised if you turned out to be an alien."
your eyes bulged. "that's mean, els," you gaped.
“blah blah,” she mocked, scooching towards you. "what were you lookin' at anyway?"
"your tattoo." your eyes drifted back to the inky markings. with ellie's knowledge this time, you let your fingers run against the lines. goosebumps raised behind every hair your cool fingers raised. the gentleness of your touch tickled ellie, and her face was growing red the more she tried to suppress her giggles.
ellie's hand found yours and clutched it, ceasing any movement. your eyes flickered up to meet hers. she let out a deep sigh, and then, "sorry. tickled."
"oh."
she was quick to revert the conversation back to her tattoo. "this girl gave it to me. pretty sick, right?" her eyes looked to yours for validation. the way your eyes swam with adoration was enough for her.
"okay," you murmured. "I'm going to guess the moth and leaves have something to do with nature?"
"first off," ellie started, "the moth is a hawk moth. not just any moth. and hawk moths are essential to life." you looked back up at her. her eyes reflected something else as she ranted, a flicker of some other emotion that you couldn't decipher. you would try, but sometimes her eyes were just too pretty to concentrate on one specific thing.
"and the leaves are to symbolize life. not just nature, silly. life is kind of important, even though I'm sure it wasn't as important at one point," she finished. you hadn't even mentioned the scarred bite, and somehow that comforted ellie. maybe you didn't see, didn't care. she still appreciated it.
"you know what?" ellie asked.
you frowned. "uh oh. what?"
"we're gonna get you your own tattoo," she grinned.
"els," you quipped. her hand, which you had forgotten was entwined with yours, yanked you off of the comfort of the nook as she jumped up. "els!"
"c'monnn," she drawled, "don't be an even bigger loser!"
you stumbled to your feet, wriggling out of her grasp. "what if I don't want to?" you huffed, finally freeing your hand.
"pussy," she whispered.
you shook your head, leaning forward to hear better. "what'd you say?"
this time she yelled, "pussy!"
you cringed, hanging your head back despairingly. "duude."
— a teeny tiny bit angsty but big fluffy peeta mellark x reader blurb
mornings waking up next to peeta still feel a little uneasy after the rebellion. fortunately, you know just how to fix that.
the mornings were always difficult, especially when every morning was a different surprise. sometimes it felt like finally reaching the top of a tall mountain, then other times you felt like the mountain. he treated you like some barrier, a big obstacle. it was not a practice either of you had wanted to fall into—though you were also aware it could not have been avoided.
the fried egg you had been tampering with sizzled between two crusted bread buns. butter oozed off of the sides, dripping into a puddle of gooey, leftover residue. the egg's edges had been trimmed (burned) to a crisp, toasty brown. it definitely smelled good, even if the image itself looked shriveled and overcooked. peeta would enjoy the thought you put into the food, that enough was guaranteed. but everything about that idea in itself bothered you.
ever since peeta was rescued; ever since peeta was abysmally brought back to his conscience, food had lost its taste and peeta had lost his touch. peeta had lost much that he could not recover, but specifically his baker's touch. it was as if the capitol had drained him of his joys—his skills and prides—just because they wanted to. you despised it. baking was one of the easiest crafts, and they took that from him because it entertained them.
you baked bread for peeta because he could no longer bake on his own. you baked breakfast and dessert for peeta to recoup old emotions he hesitated to feel. even so, it bothered you that your baking was never good enough to bring back peeta's bubbly laugh; the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled deep enough. never good enough to rid peeta of that long, distant stare; the ache in his muscles; the gentle shake in his fingers when they engulfed your own.
you plated the fried egg sandwich atop the cool white kitchen countertop and reached up to release the window shades in front of you. rays of sunlight dripped into the room, glimmering off of the eggy-residue. if he did not enjoy the food today, especially after you managed to not burn the whole egg to a crisp, you might as well faint there and then.
the sun gave way to speckles of dust in the air, peppering the house with that unusual feeling of 'comfort'. you were never too sure of what the meaning of home was, but sometimes you could believe you were living in it now.
you ambled your way past the sun, past the dust, and through a small hallway into the bedroom you shared with peeta. the door was partially opened from your escape earlier, revealing the crumpled bedsheets on your side of the bed. you nudged the door open further with your foot. blonde tuffs shed themselves from behind heavy sheets. a smile seeped into the cracks of your lips. his nightmares were subsiding.
the fried egg sandwich was abandoned on a nearby dresser. you were clambering into bed beside peeta without any hesitation, leaving the lights dim and the sheets scattered. his warmth had found yours and engulfed you whole.
your arms stretched out to meet peeta's waist, fingers digging gently into his loose shirt to draw him back to you. he let out a soft groan, eyebrows deepening at the sudden movement. cloth tangled between your fingers as you lifted his shirt just enough to press two fingers against the low end of his back. peeta shifted against your chest, murmuring a ghostly whisper.
"y/n?" his lashes fluttered open as your fingers tenderly kneaded his back, massaging circles into his skin. his lips parted to sigh deeply in response to your touch. your fingers traced along his spine, soothing his woes. peeta's head fell back and bumped into your forehead, earning him a soft giggle.
"breakfast is ready," you cooed, planting a kiss on the back of his head.
peeta hummed dejectedly, turning over his shoulder to face you. "told you not to make me breakfast anymore," he huffed. his face painted his voice, squinted eyes and crinkled brows gazing at yours.
it did not take more than a minute for you to change his mind. his eyes found your unchanging smile, and those sullen wrinkles softened up.
"but you won't stop, real or not real?" he whispered, a brief chuckle paired with the usually solemn question. your eyes glimmered against his stare as he drowsily smiled at you.
"real."
you reached the top of a particularly lucky mountain this morning.
hi guys !! i switched accounts. a lot of this writing is old and not my favorite, but i like to keep it up as a reminder to myself of how far i've come. that's why there have been a lack of posts, and i probably should've said something before lol.
anyway !! my new account is ratzquantum and i've posted two works so far ! i'm currently working on a second part to one of the posts, but the support would be appreciated !!
i'll be reposting my works on this account from now on. if there are any questions or requests, just send them to my new account !
thank you guys for all the support on this account and all the love. thank you for also being a part of my journey and growth through writing. <3
Joel Miller x F! Reader // The Last Of Us
cw ~ spoilers // angst // comfort // unedited
tw ~ vulgar language // mentions of death
plot - he was angry with you. then you were angry with him, and he was not good at communication.
Ellie grasped your hand in hers as you entered the town in which Bill lived. You had fumbled earlier, mumbling something about forgetting where he set his traps. It had been years since your last visit, and albeit Joel was generous enough to guide you around each trap, the nausea in your gut had not left.
You could see the ache in Joel's shoulders with every step, the crinkle in his eyes at the doubt coursing through his veins. There had been nothing the two of you could do when Tess got bit; and maybe that was the cause of the ill in your stomach. Yet it was so recent, you could hardly believe Joel was still pushing through. His loyalty for the woman went farther than you believed his hardened heart could ever go.
Ellie's fingers were soft from her time hiding with the Fireflies. Ellie's soul was soft from her time with the Fireflies. Joel, in a state of anger and grief, directed all of his newfound emotions upon the girl. You shunned him fairly quickly, to which he waved you off with a scoff and the usual shake of his head. The reaction was normal — you knew he wasn't to blame — but the girl was simply trying her best to live alongside them. She wasn't to blame either.
And acknowledging that fueled Joel's anger.
At first, you had presumed any anger Joel had towards you would soon vanish — you thought he was upset that you felt differently than him. Unfortunately, each misplaced step and stumble you made riled him up enough to curse you out multiple times. It was confusing before, but now infuriating as you recovered from almost tripping over a small rock.
"That could've gotten us killed," he hissed, gripping the handle of his gun tight enough to strain his fingers. "How many times do I gotta tell you, woman? Watch your step."
"Watch your tone," you grumbled, clenching your jaw as you pressed forth. From beside you, Ellie quieted, kicking at loose pebbles in the ground. They skittered off and cracked into pieces.
Joel grit his teeth together, slowing his walk and turning around to face you. "Am I the only one who wants to get us there alive?" He asked, eyes alit with spite, "or are you going to put on your big girl pants and help?"
Your fingers fell from Ellie's and you cocked your head at the man, completely and utterly disgusted by the word's that had fallen from his lips. "Excuse me?" A laugh erupted from your throat, echoing throughout the surrounding alleyways. "And who the fuck gave you the right to talk to me that way? You don't think I'm trying my hardest to get us to safety?" You questioned. Being beneath his hardened gaze left you uneasy. "It isn't our fault Tess-"
"Yo!" Ellie interrupted, "can we, um, pick this up later?" Her voice fell meek as angered eyes darted to
her figure. If not for her, you might have been doomed. A chorus of mangled screams sounded from a few miles behind. "You guys can argue like kids after, when we're alive."
Joel's eyes flit to you once more before he grunted and turned back around. "Let's go."
Finally, a down moment came where you could rest your head and soothe your uneased nerves. Ellie was peering into her bag at a stack of comics she must've stolen from Bill. On the other hand, Joel was discussing their problem with Bill. You wondered if he said anything about Tess's death.
Bill was not thrilled to lead you on this quest for a car battery, and was more so reluctant to allow you into his home — or base, whatever he wanted to call it.
Eventually, Joel shuffled away from Bill, hands stuffed into his jean pockets.
"We go now. We're going deep into town, so don't do anything careless," Bill stated bitterly. "And then you leave and you do not touch any of my things." His eyes drifted toward Ellie with his last statement, who huffed and jumped to her feet.
"Yeah, yeah. Got it."
Bill folded his arms over his armored chest and turned away. "Good."
You pressed your palms into the cool pavement and stood up. Wind hollered through the cracks in the old base, its whistle sending chills up your spine. Joel clenched his jaw before ambling over to you as you dusted yourself off. He took a glimpse at Bill and Ellie; the girl was off in the corner, toying with Bill's equipment, whilst the man himself was grumbling something furious about them as if they couldn't hear him.
"You good?" Joel asked, his voice quiet against the wind. You shrugged your shoulders, averting your eyes off to some pile of hoarded junk. His lips parted to sigh and the man grumbled, "come on, y/n. Don't be like this."
"Oh," you spoke, "so I don't get to be like this. But you can." Your soles scraped against the ground as you shifted a step away from Joel. "I don't get what your problem is. I know you've got an attitude-"
"y/n," he warned.
"-but something's up," you whispered, taking a more subtle approach to the issue as to not rile him. "If it's Tess, you've got to let it go. But if it's something else, please just tell me."
Your beg struck something inside Joel, his mouth twitching down painfully. His tattered plaid shirt reflected the dampened look in his iridescent orbs. Joel's eyebrows synched curtly, but then his eyes softened. "We can't talk about it here." Your eyes found his in a peaceful gaze. "We can't."
You nodded accordingly before responding, "then let's talk about it somewhere else."
Joel sat on an old musty couch, colored a dusty navy blue. It's furnishing had been scraped and ripped apart from it's days of abandonment. He patted the space beside him, to which you reluctantly accepted and plopped down. A loose spring popped up by your side, aiding you with assurance of a fortunate fortune.
"Do you..." Joel drawled, fixing his hands atop his lap. They were calloused with the work of time, bruised and beaten. The man searched for his next words expectantly, as if they'd just appear out of thin air. He was no good at communication, but he did not want to lose you. Not like he lost Sarah; not like Tess; and certainly not like Tommy.
"Joel," you called. His eyes darted to your own, a plea hidden within those entrancing orbs. "No one is judging you. It's me — you know me. Just say it."
He did know you.
"D'ya ever get scared you'll lose someone? So much so that you might else well be losing them anyway?" He murmered. It's meaning was slow at first, but eventually realization smacked you stark in the face. Joel noticed in the way your cheekbones sunk that you had gotten the message. He swallowed thickly.
Your hands found his in a silent connection. "I think 's just you," you teased quietly, "you suck at communication." The man grunted something rough before turning away from you, earning him your bubbly laugh.
"I get it." The pad of your thumb brushed against his chafed knuckles and you squeezed. "Unfortunately, I don't plan on going anywhere," you whispered solemnly. Joel returned his gaze, his lips crinkling up into a small smile.
"You gotta swear it."
"Oh, come on, Joel."
He offered you a pointed look. "Do it."
The couch squeaked as your weight shifted above it. "I swear it, Joel! I swear it."
Those soft orbs of his came circling back, encasing you within it's trance; telling you, "I love you", and you received the message well enough.
"Mmh, I get it," you sighed, "now you best get up and get to it before your puppy eyes start something you won't be able to stop."
He chuckled briefly and gave your shoulder a harsh pat. "Next time."
warnings: ANGST, stab wound, mentions of violence and blood, lots of violence actually, protective!joel, reader being moody and angsty, some gore (wound details), inaccurate stuff probably (definitely), inconsistencies for sure
word count: 6.63k UNEDITED
here’s the full version of ‘keep your eyes on me.’ i apologize in advance for the reader’s moody and angsty monologue in the intro and all that follows after. prepare the tissues?
The mission was simple.
A quick in and out, a regular check for supplies in one of the surrounding buildings of the QZ and that was it. Nothing you hadn’t done countless times already, even before Joel entered your life, and it was relatively easy.
The hardest part was sneaking past the supervised borders and even that had been figured out when you started paying one of the guards to turn a blind eye whenever you went out for a run.
It just so happened that this run had to occur in the smack-dab middle of a feud you’d found yourself in simply because you associated yourself with Joel Miller and Tess Servopoulos.
It didn’t help that Joel, in particular, rarely associated himself with anyone at all. Perhaps that’s what made you a prime target in his dispute with his former partner Robert Navarro.
Because Joel went out of his way to join your side more often than either of you cared to admit, it made sense that, in turn, Robert’s fury would extend to you.
my once a year post <3 the ending is a lil rushed but will be fixed soon !!
Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader // The Walking Dead
cw ~ pining // s7 spoilers // subtle angst // fluff // unedited
tw ~ mentions of the zombie apocalypse ofc // vulgar language
plot - you hadn't had a moment alone with daryl after his escape from the savior's main base. finally, the two of you are given a bit of space a few days later at the kingdom.
Dust-stained air trickled into the small room where Daryl had been cooped up for the last couple of days; it was against every ideal the man had built for himself, but Rick refused to have it any other way. So Daryl took his ego and stuffed it down his throat to respect his leader's wishes.
"It's got to be you," Rick stated sternly, hands pressed against his hips as he gazed at his friend. "Morgan won't do it, and we both know Ezekiel won't hear through anyone else." His head shook softly and he pressed his lips together tightly.
"To hell with tha'," Daryl scoffed. He waved Rick off, falling against the comfort of his bed. "Ain't my job, shouldn' be my job." He tore his eyes away from Rick, staring at the wall behind his friend mindlessly. "I should be home. Ain't doin' shit here," he muttered, running a hand across his face.
"That's not true," you rebutted, arms folded over your chest as you stood off to the side. "You gotta be here. That's unchangeable and you know it." Daryl offered you no attention as he continued to watch the wall.
Rick squinted bitterly at the man, fixing his posture and straightening up. "You could be doing stuff. Get them on our side," he drawled. "That would be the most help we could have from anyone." Rick motioned, pointing around the room as if mentioning the many different possible recruits. He lingered awhile longer, waiting for an answer, before he eventually nodded his head and ambled his way outside.
Silence occupied the room not long after the door came to a complete stop, its echo quieting to nothingness. The only sounds were your soft breaths — er, and Daryl's ragged pants. He always had a weird way of expressing his discomfort; you emitted a quiet chuckle as you listened to him. Daryl's eyes flit to your figure at the sound of your laughter, and he synched his brows together grumpily.
"Somethin' you wanna say?" He prodded, interlacing his hands atop his tattered jeans. Your e/c orbs peered down at the man and your lips parted into a cheeky smile. Unfolding your arms, you strolled over to his bed and took a seat beside him, sinking into the mattress. His ashy, dirt-ridden scent filled the space in only seconds, reminding you of just how much you missed him; and how much you longed for him.
That smile suddenly downturned along with your eyebrows, creasing inwards as you engulfed him in a strong hug. Your arms shook something fierce as you finally pressed against him. The first time he had returned, you took your time hugging him — but it wasn't the same. People were waiting and things needed to be done. You had to be patient.
"Missed you."
Daryl grunted as he snaked his arms around your body, allowing his head to loll against your shoulder. "Me too. Tha' place was a livin' hell hole," he grumbled. You hummed softly, pressing your nose into the fabric of his shirt. His hair tickled your cheeks. "Don't like it here either."
You sighed, releasing yourself from his grasp as you spoke, "it's not our choice. We can't bring-"
His voice cut you off with a simple huff and he shook his head. "It ain't jus' that." He brought a hand to his stubble, which had grown since you had last seen him, and scratched it gingerly.
"Then what else?" You asked, cocking your head as you watched him swallow thickly. The breeze blew into the room with a quiet holler, prickling your skin with goosebumps.
"Mm, 's a lot else, tha's what," he quipped, a bereft sigh leaving the rough of his lips. You bit your tongue to keep yourself from dumbly remarking a statement that'd bring an unease to the conversation. Daryl looked more than tired, his eyes swollen with red and his eyebags sunken with a deprivation of energy; his bent posture was nothing less than normal, yet the slouch he gave made him seem wearier to the naked eye.
Shuffling about, you kicked off your mud-riddled boots and brought your knees into the comfort of the bed. Daryl eyed you curiously, not having the strength to question your actions. You continued, stretching your arms toward the ceiling as you laid back, hitting the bed with a soft thud. The mattress was oddly comfortable enough for a community so large. You didn't complain, indulging in the way it eased the tension in your muscles. A sigh escaped the parting of your lips, one that teased Daryl's ears to no end.
You gestured to the opposite side of the bed with your head. "Lay with me," you adjured. The sides of Daryl's eyes crinkled and he reluctantly listened, repeating your movements before laying beside you. Within mere moments, you found peace and safety beside the warmth radiating off of his skin; following the peace came a flood of confidence, expressed in the way that you reached for his hand. Daryl tensed momentarily, the touch of your skin unexpected. When you intertwined your fingers with his large, clammy, calloused ones, he relaxed. "Tired?"
"Mmh," he answered, his voice a soft sort of gruff.
The feeling of his skin against your own struck you with sudden waves of emotion, causing you to wince. Daryl's head turned to yours at once, a frown settling upon his dreary features. "y/n? wha's the matter?"
"I don't- I can't think of it," you whispered, crinkling the bridge of your nose up. "But I can't not think of it. If you were with the Saviors any longer, Daryl. God, you're strong, I know. Doesn't mean you'll be saved." Your eyes glossed over, and Daryl was quick to wipe any tears led astray with his free hand. "It's stupid to think this way, but I can't help it."
Daryl turned his body toward you, squeezing your hand. He was no good at comforting anyone, especially you, but offered an audience instead. "Nah, 's not stupid," he stated simply. You found his hand near your cheek and pressed it down, turning yourself to gaze at his deep blue eyes.
"I was just scared," you mumbled. The man's lips curved into a soft smile, one you had not seen in quite some time, and he scooted himself closer. The hand on your cheek caressed it tenderly, soothing you of your fears.
Instinctively, you leaned forward. Chapped lips met your own, pressing against your lips gently. Then deeper, applying enough pressure to cause the blood to swell; and if not the blood, then it must be your heart at least, skipping about as you sighed gratefully. His taste burned your lips. You yearned for more. His hand squeezed your own once again before he pulled away, his chest heaving greatly.
Daryl brushed a few stray wisps of hair from your face with the back of his hand, revealing the beauty he had been waiting for. "Couldn't have ya or see ya," he admitted breathlessly. With dilated pupils, you shook your head as if you hadn't heard him properly. "Can't do tha' here either. Missed ya too."
Your eyes fluttered shut as you drew closer to Daryl, pressing your temple against his. "Then hold me and get a good night's rest, D. You need it." And that's exactly what he did, draping his arm over you; indulging in your fragrance and touch; closing his eyes and relaxing beside you.
Massaging his hand with the pad of your thumb, you whispered with one last breath of assurance, "I'll be here when you wake up."
Ayato x Fem!Reader // Genshin Childhood Lovers
cw ~ angst if you glance // fluff // childhood lovers // inazuma spoilers ? // unedited
tw ~ none !!
plot - childhood lovers reunited, yet your eyes seem so cold and distant. and when did you forget his name ? when did you forget him ?
part 1 ; part 2
Weeks. It had been several weeks since the encounter and your mind was still caught, jumping ropes around it. Ever since your meeting with Ayato, Ritou felt the slightest bit more dull whenever you stepped outside. Was it because he was driving you mad? Or were you simply longing for another fateful crossing? Moreover, you knew it was not just information you yearned for; something his touch ignited had been starved in you throughout the years.
Rays of sunlight dripped through the wooden yumemiru blinds as you shuffled toward your chabudai, a kettle in hand. It's warmth radiated beneath your palm as you went. Ever since the traveler had arrived, the storms of Inazuma were less frequent. Many times were you exposed to a lightning strike as your hair lingered above its resting place before you frantically moved inside some shop.
You had found yourself a hair piece that flowed along with your outfit nicely; and it was rather odd the way you found it. On your doorstep, within a small detailed encasement, was the piece of jewelry. It had not been signed off, only directed toward your address. It mustn't have been a mistake. You smiled greatly the first time you wore it. To deny it wasn't beautiful was completely wrong. It was much more than beautiful, and it matched your outfit. You had yet to see it in shops, but you never questioned it and wore it whenever the chance appeared.
Plopping down onto the floor-cushion, you delicately dipped the kettle and began pouring fresh honey tea into the cup.
That's what you intended to do without a mess, but a loud crash sounded from your front door, and the kettle shot from your hand as you jumped. It broke into pieces as it smashed against the wooden floor panels, painting your kimono with stains. You winced, pressing your palms against the floor to stand. The table had connected unpleasingly with your knees due to your sudden jump, and they grew swollen with the passing seconds.
Still in shock, you paid no mind to the spilled tea as you ambled your way to the door. Peeking your head outside, you saw a couple men laying unconscious at your doorstep. A startled gasp emitted from the sliver of your lips. Offering yourself a closer glance, you opened the door further to see a man; a man that caused you to grip the door's handle a little tighter as you examined him. He carded a hand through his winter-tainted hair. His back was not facing you, but you knew all too well who he was from his posture and stance. His moves were too coordinated and well thought out — except for the part where he crashed into your door.
"Sir Kamisato?" You called meekly, your voice betraying you as his head turned to gaze upon you. Those enchanting icy orbs compelled you forward as they settled upon your own eyes. Something in his eyes faltered at your sight, but he aided you with no reason as he stepped toward you.
"Your kimono," he examined, eyes trailing off as he spoke. He teased, "stained? Not what I expected from someone so proper."
You chuckled awkwardly as you held the cloth between your fingers. "Someone came crashing about as I was pouring tea. I was not expecting it, to say the least," you answered. Ayato hummed in disapproval and ushered you inside. Whether to disapprove himself or you, you did not know.
He closed the door behind him. You watched him, folding your arms over your chest restlessly. Every move you made suddenly felt hesitant and unsure; you were far from delighted at this.
Ayato faced you, his features firmly twisted down. "I've come on more important matters, even though you only recall us meeting once before," he explained. "I did not know you had so many Shogunate soldiers stalking your grounds, so I apologize for the mess. And your clothes." He blinked, and within moments was taking the cloth in his own hands. Ayato noticed the bumps in your knees as he was examining the kimono. His brows creased and he moved swiftly to wet a towel with cool water. You watched him silently, lips pressed tightly against each other as you held your breath with his every touch.
Once again, you were hungry for more of that fire he made.
"I've known. There is no reason for me to deal with them, nor can I as a mere citizen," you quipped as he gingerly pressed the cloth against your throbbing knees. His eyes lingered on his work, never faltering as you spoke. "Sir Kamisato Ayato," you sighed. "What are you doing here?"
The taste of his name on your tongue in such a manner pierced him enough to express it on his face, causing you to wish you stayed silent. "I... Your vision," he muttered. His hand slipped into his pocket and he pulled out what looked to be a cryo vision, encircled by the touch of gold. Your eyes locked with it, growing wide with curiosity and a hint of nostalgia. Lips pursed, you could not find it in you to speak. It was as if your whole body had froze as it gleamed at you. The vision was glowing a bright frosted blue. Ayato watched the familiarity wash over you. He offered it out to you, as a servant passing the crown to a queen. "Take it," he commanded. And then, faintly, "please."
You hastily took the vision from his hands. It shook something furious as you held it. Within moments, you felt a sense of nausea rush over your being and you dazed off, your figure swaying before dropping into Ayato's arms. He watched you with the softest of smiles while you were in your slumber, pressing your fingers firm around the vision.
When you awoke, the vision was still in your hands. At your bedside laid a clean set of clothes and a cup of honey tea. Your hand reached out and brushed the cup of tea; it was warm. Sitting up from your bed, you looked around. A silhouette moved gracefully around the opposite room. Your head grumbled in pain, throbbing as you moved — your knees, fortunately, had recovered easily. You feverishly stood, letting the vision you bore drop to the bed.
It hit you like a hurricane, overwhelming you with dumps of emotions you had not knew you could feel. You winced, pressing a hand to your head as if it would stop the oncoming train. Glancing toward the other room, the silhouette moved around your kitchen elegantly. And you remembered it all. You remembered him.
It wasn't as if you meant to, but your feet moved on their on, stumbling through the house as you moved to him. You threw your arms around him, squeezing him tight to make sure he could not leave; and unlike you supposed he would, he did not. He stood quietly, dropping what he had been doing. And then his arms snaked around your waist as he hugged you back.
Your lashes brimmed with tears that were longing to return at the first sight of him all those weeks ago. Ayato spoke no words as he pressed a hand behind the soft of your hair, his chin rested atop your head. Snuggling your head beneath the crook of his neck, you were the first to speak as your eyes fluttered close.
"You were the one who sent to me, weren't you? The hair piece?" you whispered, receiving a quiet chuckle in response.
"You're welcome," he murmured.
When you separated, your eyes dilated at the sight of him. His own eyes returned the thought, gazing down at you adoringly. "Thank you. I feel quite overwhelmed right now," you breathed honestly. "My emotions are mixed with all the ones from my memory loss, my body feels deadly tired, my head hurts something fierce, and I-"
The feeling of pressure against your lips strictly cut you off, and you gazed forth to see Ayato's eyes closed as he cupped the sides of your face tenderly. A flutter in your chest sent your heart racing. Feverishly, you pressed your own lips against his and in turned closed your eyes. His hand moved to hold your chin, and you accordingly wrapped your arms around his neck as he dipped in further. Breathlessly, you slipped away from his lips, never straying far enough to leave his touch.
"How long have you been waiting to do that?" you questioned amusingly, a smirk playing at the tips of your lips.
He reeled you back in for another kiss, satisfying and finally dousing the fire within your body. "Too long."
Ayato x Fem!Reader // Genshin Childhood Lovers
cw ~ soft angst // childhood lovers // inazuma spoilers ? // unedited
tw ~ none !!
plot - childhood lovers reunited, yet your eyes seem so cold and distant. and when did you forget his name ? when did you forget him ?
part 1 ; part 2
Your fingers tangled themselves into the folds of your kimono as you hesitantly crossed through the city crowd. It had been a while since your last stroll within the grounds of Ritou. Shogunate soldiers mingled about the shadows of the city, watching it in secrecy; it was honestly quite eerie, and you could never shake the feeling that they were always watching you. You had not a clue where the feeling originated from, but it drove you restless — you felt misplaced.
To put it blatantly, you did not remember much after a few years ago. You had awoken in a strange home, accompanied by a young girl who treated you whilst you regained strength. The loss of memory — or so you were told — was due to an encounter with treasure hoarders. If it were not for the likes of a woman with the name “Kamisato Ayaka”, you might have been dead. You had not the need to question it much, and overtime you grew to realize just how much impact she had on the townsfolk.
Your stomach rumbled low and hungrily, yearning for something to quench your stomach’s thirst. Street markets were popped along in rows against the roads edge, workers waving a majority of tourists over; but Ritou citizens knew just how unflattering their food was, with a quality that slugs off when touched with a pint of pure water.
Homely food was more preferable than any of the Ritou accommodations though. So you spun the other way, interlacing your hands together as you wandered off.
You had originally visited the city in hopes of finding a new hair piece to go with your outfit. Leisure time had come about and you took the chance to shop around with pleasure, but unfortunately found yourself empty handed. Sure, they were not a necessity; but they were at the least flattering to the eye.
The Kamisato Family were the ones who generously donated a small home to you while you worked your way back into society after the incident. Mainly the daughter, albeit you’ve been told the eldest made a few investments from time to time. You found it odd how the eldest were never to be seen in person. Stories were spread that his hair was as smooth as silk and his icy orbs were not only piercing, but captivating enough to drown in — you had yet to see him in person yourself, but you would assume the latter for now.
You stepped down onto a small stone path that trailed further into a small bamboo forest, just passing your house. It was not much, but it was the only home you knew, or rather remembered. Clicking against the stone as you walked was another figure, tall and slim. The outlines curved about to present a silhouette of a elegant character, taking each step on gracefully. If it were not for the numerous accounts where you found herself reading the rules of aristocracy, you would not be so elegantly refined yourself — and you also would have began to run. Yet the as the shadows shoulders stayed low and their chin held high, you felt no need to; you knew they would not dare hurt you.
You slowed your pace, allowing the man to stroll beside you and pass if he must. Then you turned your head to eye the man. His hair fell down his back, delicately brushed and tinted with a frosty glare. His jaw was set firm and his orbs pierced your own as he gazed back.
Could it be? The Kamisato Ayato? Perhaps the latter was correct, and you expected far too less of him.
Oddly, when his pupils dilated and his iris shrunk, you felt a familiar rush of adrenaline wash over you. Goosebumps surfaced beneath the veil of your kimono and you gulped aloud.
“y/n? l/n y/n?”
His voice was strictly posh and smooth but still sent waves of relaxation fizzling about your mind. And for a moment, he had distracted you from an oddity of sorts.
Whose last name did he call you? He had known your name justly so, if he was truly a Kamisato; but your last name was Zhào, far from… l/n.
“It is Zhào y/n, to be exact.” You smiled quaintly as you greeted him so. “Do you perhaps happen to be Kamisato Ayato? I am greatly in your fortune,” you quipped, bowing your head respectfully. When your eyes flit back to his face, you had left him agape.
“Either I am very insane, or my dear sister is a liar,” he huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Ayato’s eyes gazed at you longingly, and you knew not why, but you wished for more.
“I am sorry, Sir Kamisato, but I am afraid you may have the wrong woman,” you stated, shuffling further from him. It was unfortunate when you felt his skin against your own, reeling you back in as he took your wrist.
Ayato averted his eyes to the side momentarily, aiding you with a moment of silence as you began to collect your thoughts. The eldest Kamisato son was causing quite the scene, and you must admit you were glad no one was close enough to hear. “You don’t remember me,” he muttered. His grasp on your loosened just enough for you to slip away, but out of curiosity, you stayed.
“My sister, Ayaka. You know her, yes?” Ayato queried with a soft-spoken tone blanketing his worry. You were slow to answer, unsure of how to go about answering under his tensed gaze.
“I do. She saved my life.”
“She-“ His orbs narrowed slightly as he bit his tongue, sharply cutting himself off. “And you have no memory? Of anything?”
You chuckled briefly, awkwardly nodding to appease him. “I suppose. Were you not told?”
As the man’s brows creased, your gaze softened and you realized there must be more to it; what were you not being told? Sure, you never questioned it — you were without memory and were cared for quite well — but maybe everything was going too great. Why had you not thought indifferent for just a second?
“I had not been. I have been betrayed by my most beloved sister, it seems,” he sighed. Ayato’s features faltered and fell swollen. “After all this searching, and you barely waver when you see me.”
There was definitely much more beneath the surface. Had you known Kamisato Ayato for much longer? And why did it feel so satisfying with his touch pressed against your skin?
“Sir Kamisato, pray tell I knew you?” You asked curiously, slipping your wrist away to conceal behind your waist.
Ayato refocused his eyes on you and examine your figure. “Could it be..?” He pondered, avoiding your question. “Your vision. You do not have it?”
You were taken aback by many things, but mainly such an idea that you had the token of bearing a vision. “Please, Sir Kamisato. How crude of you, honestly,” you scoffed, pursing your lips as your eyes wandered over his body. “No, I do not.” Your e/c orbs settled upon the vision he bore, wrapped around a decorative rope that waved around his waist.
“The Vision Hunt Decree,” he muttered solemnly. You cocked your head in awe. You knew well of it, but surely you had not been a part of it — that was plain ridiculous. Miss Kamisato would never lie to you.
Would she?
Rather sudden and unexpectedly, Ayatao’s fingers found themselves lacing between yours; you were quite surprised, to say the least, and a soft heat surfaced atop your cheeks. “Sir Kamisato, I-“
You stuttered about as Ayato examined you. He was searching for something when he gazed into your eyes, and you could not tell what when he furrowed his brows and momentarily clutched your hand tighter than before. Your fingers tingled a pleasant sort of delight within his hand; but then he let go and retracted himself from you, and the feeling quickly diminished.
“I do not know if I can fix this,” Ayato whispered, his icy orbs feeling much more cool than they should of. “There will be a chance you don’t remember and…”
“Sir Kamisato?”
He sighed defeatedly and turned away; and as he spoke, you could hear the pain interlaced with every word. It left you quivering in sorrow as you reached your hand toward him briefly. How you yearned to bring a smile to his face.
Genshin x Fem!Reader // Genshin and Confessions
ft. xiao, tartaglia, gorou, itto, venti, and ayato
cw - fluff // chatfic
tw - none !!
plot - they accidentally send a text of love for y/n to y/n.
Index - Part 3/4
sorry for the lack of posting !! I'm trying my best to muster up some motivation :)
Genshin x Fem!Reader // Genshin and Confessions
ft. beidou, sucrose, ayaka, jean, rosaria, and hu tao
cw - fluff // chatfic
tw - none !!
plot - they accidentally send a text of love for y/n to y/n.
Index - Part 2/4
steve... hehe
FOR THIS STORY YOUR FAVORITE SONG IS "Where Do Broken Hearts Go" by Whitney Houston. IDC WHAT U SAY. it's perfect. just imagine running away from vecna and to steve during the chorus of it. IN SLOW-MO. IT'S SO GOOD !!
Hear Me, Hold Me
Steve Harrington x Reader // Hear Me, Hold Me
cw ~ fluff // angst // romance // vulgar language // spoilers for st4 !! // slightly edited
tw ~ trauma/ptsd // violence
plot - feelings yet to be requited, and so much time to confess to dear steve ! ah, well, maybe not when you're on the brink of death.
Unsettling whispers whizzed through the crevices of your ears, taunting you of a discarded past; a past so dreadful and terrible, even you could not survive it again. And yet here you stood, knees buckling and mind unhinged as you gazed forward.
Your shoulders slumped over your body, contorting your back in a deranged manner. It was as if your muscles were thriving against you, against your brain. The signals were displaced, pumping small twisted messages through your veins. Frankly, you could hardly manage a thought. Your brain was filled with a fuzz too thick to disperse with the simple wave of your hand.
Hell, where were you? Some shit excuse of a nightmare?
A pounding thrummed throughout your head, striking your eardrums with intense vigor. Fortunately, you managed to slap a hand against each ear, applying pressure to ease what you could of the pain. It was easy to decipher the origin of the sound, nothing more than the ringing of a clock.
A clock. No, it mustn't be.
But it was, wasn't it?
Steve mumbled a few scattered words in your ear, something about how grateful he was that he had you to help babysit the idiots with him. You chuckled quietly, playfully hitting his shoulder.
"Steve! Watch your tone, young man," you bantered. Steve visibly tensed, sucking his cheeks in. He hung his head back, an exasperated sigh escaping from the depths of his throat.
"C'mon, y/n," he huffed. " Don't you dare babysit me now." You laughed cheekily and Steve cracked a toothy grin.
"Ask nicely, Harrington."
And before he could speak a word, a mound of familiar faces piled into the back of the car. He spared you a pitiful glance before turning to face the kids that sat impatiently behind you. So began the babysitting, where the hair-obsessed man set in a few ground rules and tried hopelessly to change the course of Max's idea. Yet he had no luck as the girl sat stubbornly, arms crossed in an unchanging state.
You watched him with adoring eyes, which were only visible to you—and maybe Dustin, who snickered beneath his breath at the sight.
They had warned you, hadn't they? You knew damn well of your danger. Yet Max was your top priority, a friend who you loved unforntulatey too dearly for your own good. You had ignored the warnings to save someone who deserved it far more than you did. An unfavorable trait that had caught up to you; it would finally be the death of you.
With newfound knowledge of your location, your mind seemed to clear. All adrenaline in your body eased to a soft wave. You were afraid, but now could see clear enough to press forward.
The scene around you grew more visible with each reluctant step forward. Distraught shook your body to the core. At each and every nook and cranny of your vision stood a bloodied scene, one which had been buried many years ago.
"y/n! Have you seen your brother? I can't seem to find him!" A soft voice called from the distance. Your mother, cooking a great dinner for your family, sounded a whole lot worried. You, only a few days older than the young age of six, had been playing with his comics. Your brother was thirteen, and loved his comics dearly. But he was not there to keep you from building a road with the sleek books, so you continued forth without a care.
"y/n!" The voice called again. "Go find your brother for me, will you? Ice cream after dinner as a reward. Doesn't that sound delightful?" Your mother pled.
Eyes sparkling, you jumped to your feet and threw his comics to the ground. Screw the town, you wanted ice cream! And so you would get it. Determined, you wandered across the house in search of your brother.
Your scream could be heard as clear as day. Only a child, met with an unfortunate sight. A pale, unrecognizable body lay in the ashy mess of the bathtub. Smoke arose, slithering into your lungs. It attacked you with a hacking cough, causing your fragile body to fall onto the hard tiled ground. Heat radiated a few merciless feet away from your sickened being. A fire had brought your brother to his death.
All you could remember were his last pleas, and what he stuttered, rasped, and cried to you before his soul had been taken at long last.
"Help me, y/n. Oh God, you- you s-stupid child. This is all your fault. I wish you had n-nev-never been born."
It had all gone black after.
The same words threatened to tear you apart presently. Stumbling forward, you frantically shook your head and cried out a string of incoherent words. Tears brimmed at the edges of your lashes, exposing the wound to infected airs.
"y/n," a hollow voice bellowed. It rooted your feet into the ground, stealing the air from your lungs. You reached for your throat, clawing at the sides to release the invisible force from its grasp on you. "It's time."
A petrifying scream erupted from your throat. You shut your eyes tight, fighting against the roots that held you still. They loosened enough for an escape, which you took with great vitality. You were scrambling to find balance as you thrust yourself forward, body aching from the sudden amount of usage.
It was odd, the way the mythical creature toyed with you. One moment you were tripping over roots and rocks that randomly appeared in your path, and the next you were finding a new way to escape.
Or maybe, somehow, the creature was tired. Something had weakened it but yet it barreled through. And you were its food, its new source of power that it needed to revive what had been lost.
Red blurred your sight from all angles, creating a blossoming panic deep within your stomach. The raw disturbance the setting had placed upon your shoulders caused you to grow nauseous and dizzy. The rest of what you saw only further added to the feeling.
A ringing formulated in the depths of your ears. It was soft, but then louder. Louder and louder. It tickled you, and a gushing force of life raced through your veins. You gasped, throwing your body around as you searched for the sound.
It couldn’t be. It was… a song? No, not just any song. It was your favorite song. Damnit, Whitney Houston. At least you’d go out with a heavenly voice.
Right as the music sounded, it began to fade into a soft whisper. The creature appeared in front of you, concealing your vision. A smirk played on the tips of its unruly lips.
Somehow, from your peripheral, a hole into reality bursted through the fabric of Vecna’s home realm. Your eyes darted between the two, sweat trickling from the mess of your hair. Taking the moment while you could, you sucked in a breath of air from the gaps between your teeth and thrashed in a struggle beneath Vecna.
“Fuck you, asshole!” You shouted, thrusting your shoulder forward and releasing your mind from his grasp. You flew through the air, your arms flailing around as you traversed forward. Eyes fluttering open, you fixated your e/c orbs on the opening to your world and that beautiful voice spewing from above.
“Where do broken hearts go?”
From what you could see, your body lay squished against the roof of the car. The group sat around, eyes panicked and mouths moving wildly.
The crease between your brows and the tense of your muscles relaxed. It was freedom. You were going to survive.
The shine of the brunettes hair caught your eyes. His frightened face, twisted into an expression of hurt, was painful to see yet some how relieving. A soft smile found its way onto your face. Steve, man, he was something else. There was comfort in knowing he cared. You wouldn't give in now.
And with a final push, you sprinted into the break of dimensions, spiraling back into your physical body.
A mumbled "oof" left the sliver of your lips as you fell against a soft surface. Gasps sounded from all sides, and multiple voices spoke at once. The heavenly voice fell to deaf ears as the headphones fell from your head, bumping against the cool floor of the car.
"Guys, my head is pounding. Quiet down, will you?" You hissed, grabbing a hold of your pounding head. Opening your eyes, you met stares with many worried faces. The voices quieted, but continued their rambling. The soft surface you had landed upon was named none other than Steve, who watched you with a tremble in his lower lip.
His arm snaked around your waist, and his fingers hooked onto the cars door handle. He swung it open and pulled you into the daylight, away from the overwhelming of questioning.
With the shut of the door, Steve let you go and looked at you with a furious expression upon his brows. Concern slithered about his lips, downturning his usual smirk. Steve brought you further from the car, handling you tenderly as to not wound you further. His touch left a tingling sensation against your skin.
“You…” He started, running a hand across his face. He stuttered over his words, unable to formulate a sentence. Steve Harrington? Speechless? How odd! But, ah, what isn’t nowadays?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve scoffs, throwing his hands toward you in accusation. A shiver coursed through your spine, and you dug your teeth into your lower lip.
“I just-“ you grimaced, averting your eyes from his sparkling orbs. “I just got distracted with Max.” You paused, bringing a hand to anxiously scratch at the nape of your neck. “She means a lot to me, to all of us.”
Steve settled his hands on your shoulders, gently squeezing them. “And you mean a hell of a lot to me too, y/n. Here I thought you’d be babysitting me!” The man emitted a quiet whimper from the depths of his throat, riddled with a mellow playfulness.
You broke into a smile as he alleviated what he could of the tender topic. “Well, I would not have expected you to know my favorite song. Out of all people, hm?” You teased. Steve immediately quieted, rolling his eyes.
"It was just a guess," he shrugged, carding a hand through his locks. “Maybe an educated guess, but still a guess!”
Shrugging your arms around his muscular figure, you exhaustedly laid your head against his shoulder and pulled him into a tight embrace. "I can't even begin to explain how in love with you I am."
Oh. Shit.
It had slipped from your lips without a second thought, such an easy phrase to speak. Your heart suddenly sped, its thrum increasing with each passing second. A thrilling warmth found its way into bones, rattling them to the core with a pestering anxiety.
Steve's arms had fallen still against your figure. You dared not to peek at his face, fearful of what would come. A moment passed in silence, and the man began to shake in your arms. Something cool and damp pressed into your shoulder. A muffled sob made its way to your ears and you frowned.
"Steve? Are you crying?" You questioned, mouth agape in surprise. It couldn't be!
"I... uh... no,” He mumbled, pulling away to wipe his teary eyes. "You cannot just say that! Not after almost dying, y/n! Man, what is wrong with you people?"
Laughter bubbled up within your throat and escaped into the air. "Hey, there's no rejection I hear."
"No, of course not. I like you too. But what the hell? Wrong time, y/n. Wrong damn time!" He clasped a hand over his mouth.
In the heat of the moment, you intertwined your fingers with his, reassuring him of your presence and safety. “Hey. I’m right here, you big baby.”
Steve’s panic simmered into a manageable relaxation, and his fret wallowed into a sort of nothingness. “Yeah. You’re right here.”
From the car, the teenagers watched sourly.
"Ew, are they holding hands?"
"Shut up! No way."
"I almost died. She almost died. What is going on?"
And all you could do was watch Steve with those adoring eyes.
