#HIS VIGILANCE JUST GOT WORST

[hypaalicious]

MRW I get a fully leveled m9 Vigil as Temp Recruit in IS3:

MRW I actually go through a few combat nodes with him:

[vsimp]

say something (song drabble) - inspo

word count: 2.9k

pairings: alhaitham, ayato, childe, xiao, zhongli/morax (x reader)

genre: angst/hurt/no comfort

summary: they lose you

Warning: presumed death/injury of reader, mentions of blood

Alhaitham x "I’m giving up on you"

Arguments with no happy endings. Rough words that could never be taken back or forgotten.

Alhaitham was the true definition of stubborn.

It was “rationality,” as he so called it. He liked to say things as it is, and there was no need to include your emotions into these conversations, as they influence your motives and produce bias.

Technical, yet cold and harsh at the same time, Alhaitham would leave no room for arguments when he knew that he was in the right. To even validate your feelings would be impossible for him because that was who he was; an intuitive scholar who knew wisdom beyond his years.

Then when was his wisdom too much for others to bear? Was there truly such a thing as too much knowledge?

He couldn’t even fathom such an idea.

And as he argued with you, his mind only thinking of rationality, reason, logic, and analysis, he deliberately ignored the way your tears streamed down your cheeks, how your hoarse voice broke as you cried about your relationship with him.

He then doubted himself for ever thinking he could get into a relationship. Hah. Something like this could never work out again. You both were just too different, or so that was what he’d tell himself as you both slept in separate rooms that night.

But as the house grew emptier and emptier, as you moved all of your stuff out, taking every single thing in his home that made it feel like… an actual home… he grew strangely uncomfortable.

Even as he looked back to that day of the argument, he knew he was right, and that your worries were of no substance. But why did your expression shake up his heart? Why did you make his chest ache? And why did he suddenly feel so empty all of the sudden?

The questions were answered very soon, after every single one of your items have been removed from his house.

And it was at that moment when Alhaitham realized that his house no longer felt like home. And then he realized the true reason for those inexplicable emotions, as he found the present he gave you during one of your birthdays. It was a promise ring, adjourned with your favorite gemstone. He remembered how you loved it so much that you would never take it off your finger.

Yet here it was, left on a note with one simple word.

“Goodbye.”

That was the day when he figured out quickly that even if he had all the knowledge in the world, nothing else could have mattered more, for as long as he had you, he would be the happiest man in the universe. It was a severe lapse in judgment on his part, and a true mistake that he so bitterly had to realize far too late.

He had lost you. You had given up on him.

He had nobody else to blame but himself.

Kamisato Ayato x "I’m still learning to love"

As the head of the Kamisato Clan, Ayato always had to remain vigilant at all times. He had to prepare for any worst case possible while also trying to actively prevent it from happening. It was the reason why he wore a mask around everybody who he knew.

He feared that if he were to let his guard down, revealing what truly laid underneath the mask, they would take advantage of his vulnerabilities and strike down everything he was ever trying to protect.

And that was the reason why he never trusted you, his own spouse. He had agreed to a marriage with you quite easily, as your family had something he wanted, and in exchange, he would take your hand in marriage, thus binding you and your family tree to the prestigious Kamisato Clan.

Ayato had assumed the worst about you, as your family had not given him the best impression either.

As he got to know you, however, he found that you were beyond his expectations. You were kind, compassionate, and intelligent. You did everything you could so that the clan and the Yashiro Commission could thrive.

You comforted him on the days when he truly was stressed out from all of his work, took on his pain as if it were yours. Not only were you beautiful, but you made him feel as if everything was going to be truly okay in the end, so long as you could give him that smile.

He almost admitted to himself that he had fallen in love with you.

Yet, a silly ploy from your family, one of spite over the fact that you were thriving in such a place, had ruined your marriage into shambles.

Ayato had lost his trust in you. Your family had planted false incriminating evidence, one that insinuated that you were plotting the downfall of the Yashiro Commission. You weren’t able to defend yourself, and you asked him if he really thought you were the type of person to commit such atrocious acts.

His eyes wavered for a moment at your question. But the "you" in his memory grew fuzzy as the thought that everything he was trying to protect was being jeopardized, that he shouldn’t throw everything he’s built over a mere spouse. That you were one of the people trying to harm him and his family.

That night, he muttered cold words to you. As if you were never even considered part of his family at all. As if all of those memories you two once shared never mattered. You were but an outsider to him at this point.

Since the diplomats of the Yashiro Commission grew suspicious of you, pressuring him to take action, he threw you out of the household that day. Perhaps he never loved you as much as you thought he did.

With no place to go, you ran out of the estate with only some small mora and clothes.

The estate remained cold without your presence there. No longer would he be surrounded by your brightness. But a traitor wasn’t worth mulling over, or so that was what he kept telling himself as he constantly found himself looking beside him, where you would usually be.

It wasn’t until a month later did his sister Ayaka uncover the truth. She and Thoma were the only people who believed in your innocence. She presented it to Ayato, and for the first time ever, he had never seen his sister so angry at him.

Regret and guilt washed over him immediately. What had he done? He had truly messed up. But he didn’t know that it was all a ploy, and he was just trying to protect the Yashiro Commission. Surely, you would understand. Right?

His heart ached for his lover as he ran all over the streets to find you. Ayaka had told him where you had been staying. He wasted no time to get there as soon as he could.

Ayato couldn’t forget the way those cold eyes of yours looked at him. He tried to apologize, but you just gave him a look of disappointment. It was like a slap to his face, a harsh wake up call as reality hit him. Maybe if he had trusted you more, maybe if he had trusted in his own love for you more, this would have never happened.

And yet, here you were, in the middle of a ragged, old inn that you could barely afford without the help of his sister, your clothes worn out as you had been doing everything by yourself the last month, and your cold eyes that no longer held the same love and affection for him as before— he knew that there were no more chances for him.

You slammed the wooden door shut in front of his face that day.

Childe x "I will swallow my pride / you’re the one that I love"

“You don’t understand. This is my job as the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. My only duty is to serve the Tsaritsa. I can’t always be there for you.”

Those were his cold words that pushed you away. He was too blind to see what was truly in front of him at the time.

Childe strived for strength. He enjoyed fighting you, as he felt that you were both equal in terms of strength, and that he could grow in power with you. But that was all he saw you as—a sparring companion.

So when you started to hope for more, he instantly grew detached. It was like walking through a narrowed tunnel, where the only thing he saw was his goal.

There were no emotions as you confessed your love to him. An apathetic gaze that shook your emotions to your very core. It was only then that day when you realized that the heart you wanted to capture was unreachable. He had built icy walls that were impenetrable.

So you decided to give up on him.

Childe didn’t think too much of it. You were just a battle partner to him anyways.

He told himself that, but why did his heart ache when he recalled your tears? Why did he suddenly feel empty now that your presence was no longer there?

The silly jokes you’d tell him, the delicious food you would cook for him, the smile you’d give to him, and him alone— you were no longer there to provide that comfort that he had missed from being so far away from home for so long. Perhaps he had even started to see you as his home outside of Snezhnaya.

He realized that all of this time, he really did love you. He loved you so much, yet he was too caught up in his beliefs to realize it. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, to start a family with you, to have and to hold you until eternity has reached its end.

So he set down his pride, put aside his duties to the Cryo Archon temporarily, and he went to see you that day. And unfortunately, it had been too late.

You were smiling at another man, and he had lost you. And then he realized the true extent of the pain you felt that day when he had broken your heart.

Xiao x "anywhere, I would’ve followed you"

Xiao would never admit that he needed a companion in his life. It was his fate, his contract with destiny to serve and protect Liyue for the rest of his life, even if it cost him his very own.

He always isolated himself from the mortals, like a lonesome Qingxin blooming at the highest stone peaks. He looked down from height above, but never got too deeply involved with the matters of the mortals. It was only time, however, when somebody decided to climb those mountains and pluck him off the ground.

A hindrance to his daily affairs, and a nuisance whenever you followed him around, he knew it was his fault for forming a contract with you.

If you called his name, he would come. That was what he promised you. Be it for serious matters, whenever you needed his help with something, or for something more trivial, such as having a simple meal with you.

It was irritating to be called so frequently, but he was a man who kept true to his words.

It wasn’t until one day, you had made his favorite almond tofu dish and then called him over. It hadn’t even been a whole day yet since you’d last called for him, and you were already wanting to see him.

He had enough at this point. You couldn’t get any more involved with him. After all, he had always been alone for the last 3,000 years, and the karma he has to bear living with is too much for any regular mortal to handle. He needed to push you away.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than invite me over for something as trivial as this?” He would say coldly, not even wanting to sit down at this point. “I don’t want to spend any time with you. I truly loathe people who force others to do activities that they don’t even want to do.”

His words were much harsher that day. Although a part of him did feel bad, he needed to do this. He had to, that’s what he told himself. It didn’t bother him when you started choking into tears, nor did it bother him to see that heartbroken expression that lingered on your face.

“I just wanted to spend time with the person I love.” Your voice cried out painfully as you attempted to walk closer to him. “I would follow you everywhere, through everything and anything! You just have to let me in to your heart, Xiao!”

“Do you have any idea how stupid you sound right now? I will never love a mortal like you.”

The rejection was clear as day. He didn’t love you back. All of the time he has spent with you, the way he held you up gently after fighting some monsters, his small smile when you made him almond tofu for the first time; those memories were all rendered meaningless as he cut you open with his words.

But somehow, you knew this would happen. Your eyes looked defeated as you stared at him right then and there. You gave him a heart wrenching smile, which was a look that puzzled him the most.

He could never forget the look on your face. With eyes that stained with tears, and a beautiful, forced smile, Xiao knew that this was finally the end.

“I understand. Goodbye then, Xiao.”

He shut his eyes as you disappeared from his sight. It was inevitable that you would leave that day, yet the discomfort originating from his chest would not disappear.

Yes, this was something he had to do, no matter how painful it was, no matter how attached he was getting to you.

You never called him after that for a while. He thought it was a blessing, but somehow, the silence made it even more eerie. Like a singular piece of jigsaw that was lost amongst a thousand pieces of a puzzle.

"Xiao…” he heard you say after some time had passed. A weak voice. He knew something was wrong.

There, he found you. Laid in a puddle of crimson red. Everything was in slow motion at this point to him. He wasn't even able to assess the situation before he had pulled you immediately into his arms, calling out your own name in worry.

There was no response.

Thoughts of anger and regret washed through him, just like the heavy pouring rain that diluted your blood, like thunder that roared through the lands out of despair.

That day, he realized that this was the last time you would ever call his name.

Zhongli x "I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you."

The Geo Archon was a magnificent entity, one that inspired awe and respect from many individuals. You were but one of them who admired—no, more like adored him.

You fought alongside Morax in many battles to protect Liyue. It was your pride and joy to help with this almighty god.

But as often as you tried to pursue his affections, wanting Morax to look at you and you only, his gaze never seemed to find yours.

With a look gentler than any soft breeze in the plains of Liyue herself, you had never seen such an expression from him. He looked at Guizhong with such a tenderness, even dedicating a beautiful song on the lyre for her, bringing her glaze lilies to bloom from such a lovely song. You wondered if you could ever compete with such a beautiful goddess like her.

Your hands were tainted in blood, the malice of monsters and demons leaving scars all over your hands and arms. Your words were rougher with others, as you belonged on the battlefield, compared to the wise and kind-hearted God of Dust.

You were distracted more than usual one day, and you were injured quite badly in a battle with monsters. With blood pouring from the side of your rib cage, you immediately went to Morax to seek help. You could feel his divinity from miles away, and when you arrived to the area he supposedly stayed, your heart ached as he held Guizhong’s cheeks so gently. It hurt worse than any wound that you have even sustained.

You couldn’t help but drop your weapon. The loud clang echoed through the courtyard, and that was when the man had finally and actually looked at you.

Shock had laced in his golden eyes, his hands dropped down from her cheek to his side as he had realized the state you were currently in.

Your eyes had started to glaze over, tears pouring down your cheeks as you felt your own heart break. Your emotions were so strong, yet so ugly, that even the plants had started to wilt around you. You didn’t want him to see you like this, so you immediately turned your back away from him.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” His voice shouted as his footsteps drew closer to you, but your cold voice cut him off.

“Don’t take a single step towards me, Morax.”

He paused, unsure of whether or not to continue forward judging from your tone. Even as your blood seeped to the ground, staining the earth and dyeing the flowers around you a crimson red, you remained turned away from him.

You walked away from your unrequited love, ignoring his calls and pleas as he asked you to come back so he could treat your wounds.

You shut your eyes, enveloping yourself in the darkness.

[prongsx]

Lazy Sundays

warning: fluff, f!reader, Jason being a cute guy. English its not my first language. established relationship.

Jason had always been an alert person. It was tiring, but he couldn't help it. Life forced him to never rest.

It started when he was still young, he had to be alert so he wouldn't die in the alley of crime, if he made a false move he could end up in a web of crimes and murders. He had to be alert to keep his own mother from self-destruction, had to be constantly checking her breathing, if she had eaten, if she hadn't used her subsistence money for drugs. He learned that being a heavy sleeper was dangerous when his house was shot at and he had to hide under the table, eyes full of tears.

Then Bruce adopted him, but he had already lost part of his ability to be a child, never carefree. And now he had the burden of showing Bruce that he was good enough, that he wasn't wasting his time training a boy with too many emotions. Always alert. He had too many emotions, he knew that. His love was wide and deep, but so was his anger. His sadness was like sharp claws scratching his skin from the inside out. He needed to stay alert to keep his emotions in check, because they could consume him.

Being Robin kept him alert, he needed to take care of himself and Batman's back. Even Dick, who had years of training, found Jason too vigilant, his eyes never seemed genuinely relaxed and Dick found out the hard way. He went to play a prank on Jason, waking him up in the middle of the night, but the boy reacted in the worst way and before Dick could react, there was a knife pressed against his neck.

When Jason died and came back with Red Hood, his sense of survival became stronger. There were too many people wanting to kill him, the anti-hero had twice as many enemies, sleeping in peace was not an option. He had so many knives and hidden weapons that he would get scared when he went to brush his teeth and found an AK 47 in the bathroom cabinet. He needed to be like that to survive.

Then he met you. And his knees got weak, his heart raced faster than when he had a gun pointed straight at the vigilante's heart. After much difficulty, you started dating, even though Jason warned you that dating him was a death sentence.

You didn't listen to his warnings, forcing him to stop self-deprecating and start acting like a functional adult (as much as possible) to be in a relationship. Jason was right, he was too busy with his double life. He almost never relaxed, worried about taking care of you and protecting you from his enemies.

After a few fights, you decided that for the relationship to work, you would have at least one day a week to be lazy. You started it: Sunday morning. You needed to know that at least one day a week you would have Jason completely. It was hard to live with the distance his night shift required. So he committed to keeping up this new tradition.

"I'm hungry," Jason just mumbled in response to your plea. It was 10 am on a Sunday morning and neither of you were willing to get up, just like you forced them to. Your legs were intertwined, a thin sheet covering you, Jason's hands holding you tightly against him, his soft lips against your shoulder. The sun was coming in through the curtains, Gotham seemed silent, the only noise that mattered to you was each other's breathing.

"The bakery should be delivering by now," Jason replied, sighing contentedly as you drew patterns on his arm. One of the rules of Sunday morning was to make no effort, even cooking. You knew Jason liked to cook and take care of you, but at least one day a week you allowed yourself the luxury of eating ready-made food.

"It should be at the door by now," you mumble, finally opening your eyes and finding your boyfriend's beautiful face. Jason imitated your action, his sapphire eyes seemed clouded with sleep, which pleased you. Yesterday you had gone out to dinner and stayed up late watching movies and kissing on the couch, which explained how tired they both were.

"Let's get it then," Jason's voice was still hoarse, his black hair cutely messy. He let out a groan of complaint when you pulled away from him to get up, causing you to laugh.

As soon as you established lazy Sunday, it was as if a switch had turned in Jason's head. It was impressive to admire how beautiful Jason looked relaxed, his shoulders without all that tension, his features less marked and even his scars relaxed.

Peace would suit Jason, you thought.

The two of you shuffled into the kitchen, talking in whispers, your hands never leaving each other. Jason walked close behind you, his large hands holding your hips close to his body.

Your boyfriend had a silly smile on his lips, the joy of being with you leaving him on cloud nine. He noticed how beautiful you looked in your sweat shorts and with his shirt, you smelled of comfort and love.

"So, our only commitment is to have coffee and kisses at the counter, right?" Jason hummed, a huge smile on his lips, the sun seemed brighter. Then clouds appeared in the glorious sky of the lazy Sunday.

The clouds came in the shapes of three known people invading your window, the largest of them smiling happily. You thought Jason was really sleepy and relaxed, because he didn't even raise a gun towards the intruders, which was customary.

"Good morning, couple." Dick Grayson greeted, closing the window when Damian entered last. You raised an eyebrow, while Jason gave a slight growl behind you. Your hands came up to lightly stroke his hair, urging him to stay calm, he relaxed into your touch, your lazy Sunday Jason returning.

"Okay, Todd, we got some information from that case we were working on." Damian said, being the rude little punk that he is, throwing work papers on their kitchen table. Tim Drake followed suit, leaning against their counter, where Jason planned to kiss you until you forgot your name.

"Boys," you called out to them, clearing your throat. Three pairs of eyes stared at you. "Today is Sunday."

You sighed when none of them reacted. Damn workaholic sons of Bruce Wayne. Your feet shuffled to the kitchen door to get breakfast, leaving Jason to take care of his brothers.

"Jason, we need those other documents you saved." Dick said, sitting down next to Damian. Jason let out a long sigh, he still felt numb from being in bed with you. He wouldn't let his brothers ruin his favorite day of the week.

"Can we fix this tomorrow?" The three brothers stared at Jason, their eyes equally wide. The fearsome red hood's posture was so relaxed, his pajama top slightly torn and loose. His hips leaned on the counter and his blue eyes seemed clearer, almost serene. His hair really looked like a mess, the white lock falling over his forehead in a cute sort of way.

"Jason, did you hear us? It's the case you've been working on for months." Tim said, still looking perplexed. Jason sighed, his features still marked by prolonged sleep.

"Yeah, yeah. So?" He grumbled, a smile appearing on his lips when you came back with the breakfast bag. Handing him a cup and pouring coffee. He whispered a quick, "Thank you, honey."

Damian was the first to recover from the shock, his hands holding a particularly suspicious photo that would solve half of Jason's case.

"Todd, big drug case! You spent months bugging everyone for clues."

Jason just shrugged, sipping his coffee and resting his face on your shoulder, humming with joy.

"One day more, one day less."You could have laughed at how Dick looked like he had been slapped in the face. Your heart was bursting with pride for your boyfriend, who had finally learned the meaning of being at peace and lazy.

"Who are you and what have you done with little wing?" Dick said, blinking those big blue eyes slowly.

You turned your back on the little argument again, not wanting to interfere in the family dynamics, busying yourself with taking your breakfast out of the bag from your favorite bakery.

"Take those papers off the table, let's have breakfast." Jason replied with just that, making Tim's eyes pop out. He looked like a different Jason, without his characteristic sarcastic smile or the tense shoulders.

"Todd, we need to figure this out!"

"Jason, it won't take long..."

Jason let out a louder sigh now, leaving the Wonder Woman mug in the corner and turning to his brothers, his tone of voice still soft compared to normal. "Today is Sunday." He repeated, pinching his nose slightly to keep his temper from rising. "I'm staying with my girlfriend. I'll figure this out with you guys tomorrow."

He turned to you, almost as if he expected to receive a proud smile, and he got one. Damian let out a snort.

"Todd, be a man for once in your life and stand up for yourself."

"He's too tangled up in the leash." Tim joined in the provocation, unable to contain himself.

"Wrong choice of words, boys," you whispered, knowing what was coming next.

The three of them were startled when Jason's hand slammed on the table they were at.

"I'm only going to say this once. It's Sunday morning. If you little shits are unhappy and girlfriendless, that's your problem. Either you're going to leave now with these papers or I'm going to use the gun I have hidden behind the fridge."

Jason's blue eyes were that darker shade that screamed: danger! It didn't take much more, the three guards took the papers and left muttering, you heard a few words that sounded like "this will come back, Todd" and "I'll tell him where he can stick that gun."

You turned to Jason, your hands going to his tense shoulders.

"Honey, it's okay, I'll accept if you want to help them."

He let out a snort, pulling you against his chest, smoothing the skin under your shirt.

"No. It's our lazy Sunday."You smiled, ridiculously content, pulling him into a lazy kiss.

"Speaking of which, gun behind the fridge?"

He distracted you with a kiss at the base of your neck, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Bastard.

It was a good lazy Sunday.

[zer0wzs]

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨

[ gn!reader ] "practice it, even once a week," it even works with sleep—especially you have something motivating you. based off of this classic reddit post. wc: 1521

AN: not at all proofread my apologies lol

There have been a couple of changes in your life since the first month that Jason moved in with you.

For one, the little trinkets that were scattered everywhere seemed to be a little more neater, a little more lined up. You’ll find that your small figures were playing out a scene. You don’t know why they’re like that, but Jason seems to know. 

Your apartment’s been plenty more storage-efficient. This was largely to help Jason store his expansive collection of books, but it helped you, too. The drawers, shelves, and cabinets the two of you have thrifted and renovated together make it seem more to both of your liking—rather than it just being yours.

Above these small things, though, you two seem to always never have enough time with each other, even after the move.

Needless to say, time isn’t always in your favor when you’re vigilant or with the Red Hood. Date nights are suddenly postponed or canceled, patrols keep him until the early hours of the morning, and—at worst—missions have you two apart from one another for weeks, maybe even months.

This makes you two take pleasure in the small things. Whatever little thing you two can keep to yourselves, whatever fragment of time is offered to you two, you will selfishly hold onto. It's the only thing you can ever hold onto.

That’s why you always hold onto Saturdays. You can wake up as late as you want and still know that he’s probably there. You’d find him cleaning his guns, cozied on the couch reading a book, watching a cheesy romcom, or cooking you breakfast. That’s how it's always been when you spent time at each other’s apartments, and the same thing has happened until now.

That’s your first thought as you wake—or, well first few thoughts. Checking the time on your phone, you see it’s 11 AM. Earlier than your usual time of waking, but you should still probably get up.

There isn’t much noise ringing through your ears, save for a few footsteps you heard through the ajar room of your bedroom. Still a little drowsy, you made your way to the bathroom to tidy yourself up.

After rinsing your face with soap and getting the grime out of the crevices of your skin, you grabbed your toothbrush and pumped your toothpaste on it. As you brushed your teeth, though, your mind better register a faint humming—no, singing—from down the hallway.

Well, it can’t be anyone else, no?

After freshening yourself up, you go to your living room only to be greeted by tranced Jason—fixated on his slightly worn copy of All The Lovers in the Night. There’s some old dad rock music playing softly by him. You stand there, leaning against the edge of the hallway, before your presence is acknowledged.

“Good morning,” he greeted, using a random receipt he had to bookmark his page before the book aside. “You’re up early.”

“I know.” You hummed, finding a place beside him on the couch and giving him a good morning kiss on the cheek.

You find him smiling at the action, ruffling your hair and pulling you closer by the waist. “Are you up for any particular reason? Miss me?”

“Mmh, sure.” You grab his coffee perched on the table and take a sip. “Ew.”

He laughs. “What do you mean ‘ew’? Baby, that’s always how I’ve made my coffee.”

“I know, I know,” you rolled your eyes. “I thought that was gonna be the new three-in-one packet we got.”

“I don’t like three-in-one,” he hums. “Or at least I’m not in the mood for it.”

“Guess I’ll have to brew a cup for myself. I really wanna try it out.”

“Can I have a sip?” He asked, leaning into your shoulder.

“No.” You half-jokingly replied, snaking your hand up his hair to ruffle it.

“Come on.”

“Let’s see.”

And so that’s how Saturdays would go for you two. Jason would usually start his day at 7, 6, and sometimes even 5 AM, depending on how hectic his workload was. He’d freshen up, brew some coffee, and then usually get to his work.

If he did work, he always took a short breather between 10 to 11, usually spending the time to read. If he didn’t, he’d spend the morning cleaning the apartment or making breakfast.

You find yourself stirring awake. What time is it? It feels too early to be up right now.

You check the time on your phone. 10:42. Never mind.

You stretched out, basking in the sun that escapes through the fabric and small gaps of the translucent curtains. You blink a few times before deciding it's time to get up and freshen up. Grabbing a change of clothes, you head to your bathroom.

As you continued your morning routine, you could hear music ringing softly throughout the apartment. Along with that, you hear Jason singing along to it. With that, you open the door a little wider while you brush your teeth.

Before you can even process that your feet are carrying you outside the bathroom, Jason’s already greeting your presence in the dining area. “Good morning,” You wave in return. “You want anything for breakfast?”

You shake your head in reply and find your place beside him by the table, reading a book. You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to follow whatever he’s reading. The fast reader he is, he flips the page before you can even get a full sentence in.

In the corner of his eye, he can still see how drowsy you were. He checks in. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Still a little sleepy.”

“You know, you can still go to bed if you want. I’m not sure why you’re up earlier than usual.” He pouted, craning his head to look at you. “You’re not pushing yourself for whatever reason, right?”

“No, I just…woke up,” you reply dryly. “Like I woke up and thought, ‘might as well,’ you know?”

“Okay, okay,” he smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You want a coffee?”

“Mmm, sure.”

“Alright,” he nods, kissing your forehead before getting up to heat up some water. “The three-in-one?”

“Yes, please.”

Maybe it's your way of saying that you miss him. Between the night patrols and days-to-months-long missions that he goes on, you find yourself waking up a little earlier. 11 AM turns into 10 AM turns into even 9 and 8 AM on the weekends.

It’s 7:51 AM. Last night may have been hectic, but you got some sleep in. A few weeks ago, you would’ve slept in and woke up at 1 PM, but god doesn’t grant you enough time to hit your napping time and spending-time-with-Jason quotas. You have to sacrifice one, and your body knows which one you’re choosing.

“Morning, babe,” Jason greets from the kitchen, cooking up a breakfast for the two of you.

He doesn’t tease you any more about waking up so early. In fact, he doesn’t even push you to go back to bed anymore. He knows it only really makes you feel bad for getting some sleep. He’s more than picked up these changes in the morning and accommodates you to his schedule with ease. 

You feel more than love. You feel his affection wholeheartedly. It’s almost overwhelming, but you figure you’re never getting enough of it anyway.

“Hello…” You mumble from behind him, sliding your hands up his chest. You smell the spicy scent of seasoning from his cooking. ”Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He smiles, pulling you to his side. 

You stand in silence for a bit, too sleepy to continue the conversation sensibly and letting only the sound of the searing pan fill the room.

Yet you start. “Are you doing anything or going anywhere today?”

“No, not really,” he answers. “Why? You wanna do something?”

“No, not really,” you copy his tone, not really implying any sort of mocking. “I just wanna spend time with you.”

He laughs a little. “Clingy.”

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Hmm,” he pauses for a split second to think. “Set the table for me, won’t ya? I’m almost done.”

“Alright.”

Warmth is the first thing you feel. A great, weighted warmth encasing you in your sleep. It wasn’t too early, as you felt the bright rays of the sun shine down and pierce through your closed eyes. Clearly, Jason should be more than awake by now.

Eyes closed, you whisper to the big bear of a man holding on to you for dear life. “Mmh, what time is it?”

Nothing from him in return. You lay a few kisses on his arm, hoping to wake him up, even a little.

“Love?” You hummed, reaching out for your phone to check the time. Your phone’s brightness blinds you, but as long as you can sleep in peace after this, you’re fine. “It’s 7:32. Shouldn’t you be up by now?”

You hear him mumble a few things, mostly incoherent, but you can at least make out his little, “Mmh, five more minutes.”

[ox-imagines]

Tokyo Debunker as Romance Tropes

Feel free to ask me to write a longer imagine/oneshot for any of these!

Pt. 2 | Vagastrom

Pt. 1 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | Pt. 7

Alan - Bodyguard

Almost everywhere you go, you have a detail of bodyguards, protecting you from harm and prying eyes. As such, one of them is almost always with you to ensure your safety, and it’s often your personal favorite. Alan doesn’t even realize he’s your favorite, he just thinks it’s him because he’s the strongest and most vigilant. One night while he’s standing guard outside your door, you ask him to come in your room, insisting that it’s warmer there than in the hallway and at least he could sit while watching you. Reluctantly, he agrees. He starts to sit in a chair, but you grab his hand, tugging him gently over to sit on your bed while you slept. He still isn’t aware of your feelings for him, but now he’s got some of his own that he’s not quite sure what to do with.

“This is unprofessional… are you sure this is ok? Fine, you’re the boss…”

Sho - Enemies to Lovers

At first, Sho comes off as indifferent, directionless, and a bit cold. His attitude bothers you so much, but you’re given an assignment you’re partnered for. He’ll disagree with you about almost anything, but won’t even actually fight you on it, which is honestly worse. If he doesn’t like what you want to do, why doesn’t he suggest something he wants to do? His apathy brings out the worst in you and eventually he does snap, yelling back at you about how obnoxious it is to try and work with you and he wishes you’d just finish the assignment yourself if you didn’t actually want his input. The argument somehow ends in a very heated makeout session, after which he seems at least a little more invested and agreeable about how to do your assignment.

“Why should I give a fuck? Just do it yourself if you care so much instead of getting on my case for not caring! We can’t all be perfe- …oh. Shit, what, what are you doing…?”

Leo - Fake Relationship

Leo was kind of a friend of yours; you had a family wedding coming up and had recently led your family to believe you had a boyfriend, and unfortunately your other friends were busy that weekend. You asked Leo, and first he laughed at you, but then he decided it might be a good ‘marketing ploy’ to act like your boyfriend and promote himself to all the other wedding attendees. He acts caring around others but is still merciless towards you whenever you’re alone about how ‘funny’ it is you were so desperate you had to ask him of all people. He notices though that your family doesn’t seem to like you much, giving you underhanded compliments and sideways comments all night, and you take it like it’s nothing but he notices the way your eyes waver. It resonates with some part of him he thought he’d cut himself off from, and by the end of the night he’s not teasing you anymore and his arm around your waist feels a bit more sincere.

“I know your mom didn’t like the dress you picked, but for what it’s worth, I think you look good enough to even put on my SNS. I bet my followers would go crazy if I posted you looking like this.”

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Call Me biles

Stiles Stilinski Masterlist Summary: Being Coach’s daughter isn’t that bad. Of course, you're in the lacrosse team, which makes him proud and happy. But falling for the worst player (after Greenberg), going out with him in secret, and lying to your dad… That's bad. But the worst is… Ever since you started dating him, you've been calling him Biles and no one told you you were wrong. Word Count: 2080 Pairing: Stiles x F!Reader A/n: I was feeling the absolute worse today so decided to write the absolute cutest story I could to cheer me up. Teen Wolf, it's been a while! Hope y'all enjoy! Sorry for any mistake! (I wrote this with 3 hours of sleep)

“Faster! My grandma could beat you with her eyes closed, and she’s dead! You suck Greenberg! That’s good sweetie, keep going!”

Obviously, Coach was after everyone. It was understandable, Beacon Hills hadn't won a game in forever, it was almost depressing to be on this team. Other schools made fun of you when they crushed you during games. 

And Coach wasn’t only screaming at the student in his team, but at everyone in the class currently running on the field.

But obviously, when Coach spoke to you, he didn't treat you the same way as the others. His tone changed, a proud smile appeared on his face, and he began to encourage you instead of denigrating you.

Obviously. Since Coach was your dad.

You finished your lap, out of breath, and leaned over to put your hands on your knees. In the distance, you could hear your dad's voice return to its usual tone as other insults replaced the encouragement he only offered to you. 

“Is that everyone?” You looked up to see the last person finally finishing their lap and collapsing in front of your dad, face red and covered in sweat. A small laugh escaped your vigilance with a smile that you quickly hid when you saw you had Coach's attention on you. “Pathetic,” he finished as he headed towards the school, announcing that class was over.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye, and, once certain that he was out of range, headed towards the poor wretch collapsed on the ground.

“Biles!” you laughed, helping him up. “You really need to improve your cardio, or we’ll get crushed at the next game!”

Once on his feet, you met his gaze and it was your turn to lose your breath as you inevitably lost yourself in the beauty of his amber eyes.

“You’re dad will crush me before,” he grimaced as he started walking towards the school alongside you. It was the first class of the day, and you knew the rest of the day would be long, especially with Lacrosse practice scheduled for the evening. “You’re lucky he’s not always on your back, you know?”

You shook your head, understanding what he meant. “He wants what’s best for me. I asked to join the team, he didn’t force me nor did he agreed I join because I was his daughter. He made me go through the tryouts like everyone else and I got no special treatments or favoritism. He just… Made a promise to my mom before she passed away, to never be the cause of my tears. He’s a great dad. Well, except when it comes to dating boys…”

Biles shook his head and sighed as he opened the door to let you enter the school first. “What about the other guys? Aren’t they mad about Coach’s daughter being on the team?”

At his question, a grimace of suffering stretched your face and you stopped walking. Biles mimicked your movement and turned to you, one eyebrow raised.

“Let’s say he made it veeeeerryyyy clear to the ones that complained. And the few ones that started rumors…” You shivered at the thought. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I don’t wanna know,” an expression of terror was now on his face. “Alright, I’ll hit the shower, see you at lunch,” Biles quickly scanned his surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and leaned down to place his lips on yours. They were soft and warm and even though it wasn't the first kiss you had shared, the butterflies still woke up in your stomach.

“See you later,” you watched him leave, a stupid smile plastered on your face.

Gosh, you loved that boy.

-

Later the same day, it was Lacrosse practice.

Even though you had spent time with Biles during the day, you were very excited to see him again to play the sport that bonded you two together at the beginning. And then, hiding from your father all day, always looking behind your shoulder to make sure no one was following you, spending dinner breaks in Biles' jeep to make sure no other teacher saw you together at the cafeteria…

It was grueling.

Sometimes, you wish you had the courage to just tell your dad. After all, even though he appeared rather withdrawn, he always supported you in your decisions and encouraged you to pursue your dreams. But a boy in your life?

You feared his reaction.

“Hey, Stiles!” 

The unfamiliar name, albeit with a familiar connotation, caught your attention and you turned your head towards the source. Practice had already started, but as usual, your boyfriend was on the bench while you were on the field. The person who had just spoken was also on the team, number 11 and friend of Biles, who, true to form, arrived late.

Biles jumped to his feet as if he had springs in his shoes and rushed towards Scott to whisper something frantically. You raised an eyebrow, not really understanding the reason for the secrets exchanged between the two boys, and continued playing without worrying anymore about what was happening.

-

Stiles Pov

“Hey, Stiles!”

Nervousness coursed through his veins as if he had just received a violent electric shock. The current reached his feet, and immediately he was standing up and rushing towards Scott, his stress-fueled speed almost on par with the werewolves.

“Biles. My name is Biles. Call me Biles!” Stiles quickly whispered, his hands going all over the place as if he was trying to fly away. 

Scott froze, his mouth half open, and his gaze left his friend and rested on the source of all this stress. The girl in question had stopped playing to look at them, but quickly returned to the game, shrugging one shoulder. “You know, you should tell her.”

“Are you crazy?!” Stiles' voice rose an octave, which caught Coach's attention. A quick wave of his hand to apologize, and Stiles continued the conversation in a low voice. “She’s Coach’s kid, and I love her so much, man, if she thinks my name is Biles, my name is Biles. Hell, I’m ready to change it on my birth certificate.”

Scott looked at his friend with wide eyes. “You love her that much?”

Stiles sighed, his head turning to look behind him where the girl of his dreams had just caught the ball and scored a point. Pleased with herself, her gaze immediately went to her dad who applauded her, then to him, Stiles - well, Biles, who looked at her with eyes full of affection. “You have no idea.”

--

“Stilinski! On the field! Greenberg, out of my sight!”

Hearing his name, Stiles was already standing, helmet on his head and lacrosse stick in his hands. Since he arrived, he was ready to play and radiated energy. Finally on the field, he ran towards the person he wanted to see the most and stopped next to her, smiling under his helmet. 

“Hey there.”

“Hey,” she replied, her smile just as big.

A loud whistle startled them both, but it was the calling of their names that made them break out in a cold sweat. Sweats of horror. Sweats…

Of terror.

“Stilinski! Finstock! Stop flirting and go go go!!” Coach yelled in their direction. 

Stiles shared a frightened look with his girlfriend, the fear of being found out strong in their veins. “Do you think he knows?”

“We were careful,” Y/n whispered as she ran to the other side of the field to start the practice match again. “But I can ask him after practice,” she offered, but seeing the fear in Stiles’ eyes, she felt compelled to specify “subtly, obviously.”

“Your dad scares me,” he added, getting into position.

“I know,” Y/n replied with a sigh. “I know.”

-

Your pov

The practice match was over. Although usually, playing Lacrosse managed to cure all of your daily life stresses and struggles, this time, even the sport that you knew and loved couldn’t stop the tornado of thoughts that invaded your mind.

Did your father find out about your relationship with Biles or not???

If so, you had to do everything to protect him, otherwise you were afraid for his life.

But first of all, you had to ask your father, subtly, if he had any doubts about the nature of your relationship with the number 24.

“Good job tonight Y/n! Dad’s proud of you!” 

You had just returned to the stands when Coach walked to you, a friendly pat of encouragement on the back. Usually, you would have been really delighted -your father's compliments were as precious as a treasure lost for hundreds of years- but stress prevented all good feelings from existing. For the last hour, you've been reciting what you were going to say, how to ask him, how to bring up the subject without seeming suspicious, how-

“I was thinking, hotdogs for dinner. You down?” Your father asked, cutting off all your concentration and courage to ask him. 

“Sure, uhm, dad, I uh… I wanted to-” 

“Why don’t you invite your boyfriend too?” 

You froze. Literally, your whole body turned to marble and you were stuck in the last position you had been in, mouth open, one hand outstretched towards him. Coach was putting away your equipment in your bag, completely unaware of what he just did by asking that simple question.

“Uh?”

“I think it’s time Stilinski acts like a man and steps up for his girl,” your father continued, glancing at you. Then, straightening up, he raised his voice and added: “STILINSKI! COME OVER HERE.”

Like a good soldier, Biles rushed towards Coach and you, leaving everything he was doing behind.

He was missing a shoe.

“Yes, Coach, I’m here, Stilinski, that’s me, reporting, present, right here.” With both hands on his hips, Biles looked at you, then at your father, then back at you, asking a thousand and one silent questions with his facial expressions.

“Hot dogs. You like em?” 

“Yes, sir, love them, enjoy them, delicious, delicate food, truly amazing,” Biles nodded, sweat rolling down his forehead, definitely not from the practice match that had ended 15 minutes ago already.

“Alright. You are eating dinner with us tonight. I think it’s time you stop hiding, you two, gosh,” the coach rolled his eyes and threw his arms in the air, exasperated. For your part, you were still frozen. Your father started to walk away with your sport bag under his arm but suddenly he stopped to turn towards you. “And Stiles?”

“Yes, sir, yes, that’s me, yes?” Your boyfriend responded automatically, his body straightening to form a perfectly vertical straight line.

“You should stop parking in front of my car. I have eyes. Be there for 7!”

With these words, your father disappeared into the school parking lot, where he would wait for you to go back home. But for now...

“Holy shit I’m dead, right?” 

“Wait, your name is STILES? Not Biles???” You exclaimed, turning towards him.

“Is that really what you remember from the conversation?!” 

“You’re not denying it!!”

“I’m gonna die tonight!” 

“You’re gonna be fine, Stiles!” You couldn't believe it. Not only your dad knew about your relationship, but you had completely shamed yourself by not even knowing your boyfriend's real name. “I’ve been calling you the wrong name all this time…” 

You hid your face in your hands. 

“Hey hey…” Warmth settles on your hands, and slowly, Stiles freed your face and gently lift your chin to look into your eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I kind of… liked it, you calling me Biles. It was our thing…” Stiles smiled, and damn, that smile was magical. You just couldn’t feel bad having someone so perfect near you. 

“I feel stupid,” you furrowed your brows, your expression pouty.

“If it can make you feel better,” Stiles continued, putting an arm around your shoulders to start walking towards the parking lot with you. “I’ll be dead after tonight, probably,” he added with a laugh. “And also, my real name is not Stiles.”

You stopped walking to look at him. “Really.”

“Yeah. But I’ll only tell you if I survive tonight’s dinner.”

“Alright,” you laughed as you continued walking with him, obvious relief being felt in your heart. It was so nice not to have to hide. “I think I can help with that, Biles. But…” You glanced down.

“Hm?”

“You’re missing a shoe.”

“Oh, I know.”

-

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa​​ @wickedinspirations​@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive​​ @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

[extremefrogrefrigerator]

all of the characters in interview with the vampire (2022) are so complex and are all subjected to such wild experiences but jesus CHRIST imagine being louis de pointe du lac's sister. the story starts out and your brother louis has a sketchy fucking job but you let it slide because Hey At Least He's Supporting The Family. and then one day he's like hey i have a new friend and you're like who is he and he's like French Individual. which of course is disappointing but hey! let's invite this french man over to dinner whats the worst that could happen. and turns out that the worst that could happen is mr oui oui cuntatron 9000 with his his little ponytail acting as if he has 47 large sticks shoved up his anal cavity bashing your Other brother about religion in a passionate monologue about how much he hates god and also he's not eating anything? Whatever it's your wedding day soon!! so your wedding day happens and it's banger, tap dancing and shit, but womp womp the next day your other brother Tragically dies but hey at least you've still got louis! JUST KIDDING during the vigil this blonde french fagatron tiddles and toddles up to your brother and he's like "we fucked last night why did you ghost me" to him and of course you don't have the capability to process this at the moment in your grief so you're like Whatever! but then on the night of said vigil louis proceeds to fuck off for several months where did he go? good lord how worrying. but then luckily he fucks back into the picture several months later when you host a little party! but he's got that blonde french fuckhead with him, who insults the banjo band you have in your front yard and is wearing a stupid little had but whatever! louis come inside please it's been forever. and also louis is wearing these little fucking sunglasses now so youre like Take those off what the fuck are those. and his eyes are all fucked up and Not Normal but you're like Whatever! and then he's like You Are Going To Have Twins and you're like What and he's like You Are Going To Have Twins It Will Happen ! and you're like I heard you the first time What and then he fucks off again with the blonde guy . but then turns out that you DO fucking give birth to fucking twins. you see louis and his gay ass sunglasses a few more times over the years but for the most part he's absent and also kicks your door down that one time with like. Way too much strength for a human being and also you've been hearing rumors on the town that your brother and The Worst Blonde Individual Known To Man are fagging it up homosexual style in their shared one-bedroom townhouse and and also why do you only ever see him at night? and you're not quite sure what Is Fucking Wrong with him so you think it over and you're like Hey I Think We Have To Disown This Guy .i know just how to do it let's put his gravestone in a graveyard and "bury" him and have an epic Surprise Grave Reveal when he comes over! because like what else can you do?? and then you never ever see him again . also it's like 1910

[kkvqwrites]

A Visitor

Someone from Simon's past comes knocking.

Word count: 1,480

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, fem!reader (no use of y/n)

CW: Mentions of past abuse/DV

A/N: This is technically canon divergent since Simon's dad is presumed dead. Also I could have sworn his name was Lee in the comic but when I went back to check I couldn't find it, so it'll do.

The knock at the door came at perhaps the worst possible time. Simon had dozed off watching rugby with the baby snoozing on his chest, one of his large hands plenty big enough to support her. The man was a notoriously light sleeper, and always vigilant, so it was nice to see him relaxed enough to doze off. 

You hurried to the door, hoping against hope the knock didn’t wake the two sleeping beauties. You hadn’t been expecting company, so your secondary hope was that it wasn’t someone who wanted to linger. Upon opening the door, though, you froze, perplexed. Standing before you was someone you’d never seen before.

The man was old, but how old it was hard to say. His clothes were worse-for-wear and he looked like he hadn’t showered in days. The wrinkles in his face betrayed a permanent smirk. He was rough around the edges, not just in appearance but in the way he carried himself. You had half a mind to ask if he was there asking for charity, but the words stuck in your throat. Something about this man made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

“Can I help you?”

“Dame of the house, I presume?” The words were polite enough on their face, but something about the way he said them grated, as did the way his eyes raked over you as he said them.

“Yes. Can I help you?” you repeated, hoping to speed this interaction along. 

“Name’s Lee Riley, here to see my son.”

The name wasn’t familiar, except for the surname. Dumbly, you blinked at the man for a few seconds before realization struck.

Oh.

Oh no.

Simon had inherited his mother’s warm brown eyes, but looking closely you were able to see traces of him in the man’s stature and bone structure. Standing before you wasn’t just any random person, but a monster you had heard about only in stories. You felt sick looking at that smirking face, knowing it was the same face Simon had to look at as a boy facing relentless abuse and terror. 

Instinctively, you squeezed the door shut just a bit tighter, as if to barricade yourself in the house and keep him out. The two people you loved most in the world were inside, blissfully unaware of the piece of shit on your doorstep, and you intended to keep it that way. 

“Get off my porch and never come back here.” You willed your voice not to betray how uneasy you felt. The man barked a snarling laugh.

“Ha! Mouthy bird my son went and found himself. Just like his old man.”

“He’s nothing like you,” you spat, your voice struggling not to rise alongside your temper. “And there’s nothing for you here, so get -”

A hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. Simon stood behind you, the gurgling baby in his other arm. His eyes were fixed over your shoulder on his father, expression unreadable.

“Take her and go upstairs.” His tone was gentle, not a reproach but a warning to get far away from whatever was about to happen. You hesitated only a moment, silently praying for some way to save Simon from this confrontation. He spent so much of his life fighting against his father, against the beatings and the fear and the expectations that he’d grow up to be just like him. You were desperate, in that moment, to spare him one more fight. But one glance between the two men, at the stare-down they were having, made your shoulders sag in defeat. This was something that had to happen, and you and the baby being in the crossfire would only make it worse. 

You lifted your daughter into your arms and made your way upstairs to the nursery. Once safely inside, surrounded by soft pink toys and blankets and baby books, you wanted to cry. Simon never got the opportunity to be soft, never got the tenderness he showed you and your baby. Getting out some blocks to let the baby play, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on downstairs on the porch. 

What you couldn’t see, what no one could see or hear, was the war that was going on inside Simon’s head as he took in the sight before him. The shriveled old man before him had once loomed so tall it seemed impossible to ever escape him. Now, half-bent and coming up to his son’s collarbone, it was almost laughable. This was the tyrant who robbed him and his brother of their childhoods; this was the coward who had beaten his sweet, joyful mother down into a zombie. He had seen her just now in your defensive posture, and something in him had gone scarily quiet. Ready. Eager, even.

He had done it once; bullied the bully and forcibly removed his father from the home, and he was all too ready to do it again. He was ready, in that moment, to do whatever it took to be the wall between this evil on his doorstep and the family he had built, that which he cherished above all else. The nerve of this piece of shit, the gall to show up out of the blue like this and contaminate the doorstep had Simon’s anger rising in a persistent wave. 

“Why are you here?” His tone didn’t betray the storm of emotions roiling under his skin; he’d had that trained out of him long ago. He didn’t much care what the answer was. What he was really thinking was Say something. Try something. I dare you. I want you to. Let’s finish this.

“Can’t an old, sentimental man visit his son? The manners of your generation!” The man’s taunting expression and jeering tone were almost enough to get his face flattened into the ground. Almost.

“I’m no son of yours - you said that yourself. Now I suggest you take my wife’s advice and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“Wife! Atta boy,” the man cackled, barreling on and completely ignoring him. “And a tyke too. Taking after the old man after all, are we?”

Simon’s knuckles flexed. You were right when you said he was nothing like the man standing before him; he had worked hard to be sure of it. Every therapy session, every time he communicated with you when he was upset, every time he cooled off before arguing, every time he looked at his infant daughter and vowed silently to the universe to only ever show her safety and love, he was making sure of it. Every time he used his strength and brutality - perhaps the only gifts his father ever gave him - for the good and safety of the world and made the decision not to bring it home with him he was making sure of it. Every time he used his pay to pay bills and take care of the house instead of spending it at the pub, he was making sure of it. Every time he nurtured the friendships and brotherhood he had with his teammates, he was making sure of it. Everything he was as a man, as a husband, as a father, was in spite of his upbringing, not because of it. And he would be damned if this man would take credit for any of it.

It was on the tip of his tongue, this acidic rebuttal, when realization struck: he’d won. He’d grown into a man he was proud to be, a man who embodied everything his father had tried to beat out of him. He’d created a home where he and his loved ones felt safe, he’d found a good-hearted woman and built her up rather than draining the life from her, and now she was a great mother to his daughter. His beautiful little daughter who would never know the fear, the hunger, and the confusion that had marked his earliest years. 

The realization was shocking and humbling, and he blinked, taking in the scene before him with seemingly new eyes. The dirty, snarling man before him was nothing. Not a challenge, not a threat, nothing more than a nuisance. Not worth the air it would take to explain why he was wrong, and certainly not worth putting his hands on and causing a scene. 

Simon let out a long breath, and with it, decades’ worth of something to prove. The man before him wouldn’t hear it, and couldn’t understand it, and that was okay. Because Simon understood it, and you understood it, and one day your daughter would understand too. He could see his future stretching out before him, and there simply was no room for the mean little man on his porch. 

“If you ever come back here, you’ll regret it.” He said, finally.

And then he closed the door.

[mangekyuou]

Straw Hats x Fem reader platonic! This just popped into my head after watching ATLA! What if S/O, who’s mute, owned a pet messenger bird? No, scratch that, a pet messenger hawk? Sharp-looking, intelligent, and fast, he’s her pet companion that she takes care of sweetly and kindly. He can deliver messages to anyone around the world! I’m surprised that One Piece didn’t have a pet parrot, besides Karoo. HCs?

★ WITH A MUTE CREWMATE WHO HAS A PET MESSENGER HAWK! headcanons ★

── featuring. the strawhats.

── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. platonic. mentions of your hawk fighting zoro and sanji lol. not proofread.

── notepad. this has been sitting in my inbox SO LONG. IM SO SORRY. i really hope this reaches the og anon.

accidentally crossing paths with the new rag-tag group of hotshot pirates that were becoming a thorn in the side of the marines was unexpected. becoming a trusted member almost overnight was even more so

you are welcomed with open arms by your new family. well, you and your vigilant and protective hawk that was always perched on your shoulder, ready to snap at the hands of your new and still unfamiliar crewmates if they got to get too close to you

luffy, friendly and touchy as he can be, seems to be your hawk's main victim of the pecking. he never learns

outside of steering clear away from your violent friend with wings, the straw hats do everything in their power to ensure you are comfortable. never will you ever feel left out with them

they make sure to always include you in conversations, even if you don't want to contribute to them

they learn other ways to communicate with you, whether it is handing you a pen and a pad to write on, or starting to learn sign language. whatever makes you the most comfortable

your crewmates have an unintentional habit of checking for you the moment you are no longer in their line of sight

nami is the worst about it. she can't even count the number of times she almost had a heart attack thinking you were gone because she didn't see you for more than five seconds, before smothering you in big sister hugs and scolding you to never do it again

franky is the second worst about it. the one time the two of you went on a mission to find supplies in a village, he got distracted and kept walking, not noticing that you stopped a while ago. when he turned around and you were nowhere to be found, he was losing it. he called for you all over the village before falling to his knees in despair and crying a river before you returned having already found the supplies. he swore if he wasn't already crying he would have cried tears of joy when he saw you again

the straw hats find your pet hawk and the bond that the two of you share is very cool. to demonstrate their intelligence, you write a letter to your family back home and send your hawk on its way. when the bird returns a day later with another letter when its journey should have taken them weeks, the straw hats are in amazement

every now and then they ask your permission to send letters to their loved ones, even though you've told them several times that they don't need permission

it was just getting your hawk to like them is a whole other thing

your hawk absolutely loves chopper and robin. when they are not near you, they are perched on the top of chopper's hat, watching the reindeer do his tasks, while feeding them snacks in between.

while with robin, your hawk is comfortable enough to snuggle into her lap and fall asleep as they do with you while she reads on the deck of the sunny. you're starting to think they love her more than they love you

but you need more than two hands to count the number of times your hawk has left a few of your crewmates full of scratches due to being irritated by them, mostly zoro and sanji because of their "stupid bird" comments

well what can you do, the bird has a mind of its own

MANGEKYOU 2024 ── do not copy, repost, or translate my works onto this platform or any other !

[seonghwaddict]

stupefied — kang yeosang

in which a small accident leads to something more.

prince!kang yeosang x fem!reader. genre. fluff, domestic fluff, slight crack. warnings. they're super awkward, description and mentions of wounds, a tiny bit of blood, they're super cute. wc. 5.8k.

lilo's notes. hi i'm back :3

　　　　　　　　　main masterlist

There was nothing that could explain why Prince Kang Yeosang was roaming the woods, other than the fact that he desired a break. He told his servants not to go looking for him because he was on a personal mission, but in reality, he wanted to mindlessly wander around in a disguise that would not attract attention. He set off in his worst garments and a hood above his head. The brief vacation was only supposed to last for a day, but it did not go as he had anticipated.

After winding his way through snow and wood for so long, he fell into a rhythm. His defences were down and his thoughts were building themselves into other things until he heard singing. It was an enchanting melody, but that did not keep him from being wary. Once he brought more focus to his path, he realised that the part of the forest he was in felt unfamiliar. He told himself he was too competent to fall into such a generic trap, so he got off his horse and secured him to a tree. After asking his companion not to make a sound—as if the animal would understand him—he moved further with much caution and hands raised. His fingers twitched as the voice grew louder and his boots pushed quietly onto the earth.

Up ahead, you hummed a sweet melody. However, you faltered for a second when you heard the snap of a twig. It was easy to believe that it was likely one of the many harmless animals that liked to roam about the area in the afternoon, so you continued. Your confidence began to diminish once the sounds of birds twittering faded into silence. It did not look like a storm was coming, so the safest conclusion was already thrown aside along with your composure. By all accounts, if you were so nervous, why did you continue singing?

As Yeosang passed a shrub, he saw you by several bushes filled with various berries. His first thought was not him questioning why a young woman would be by herself in this secluded part of the forest. Instead, he thought of how carefully your fingers skimmed across each fruit to study them. He was close enough to see the way the sun caused a glimmer that beamed off your shoulders and brought a shine to the locks of your hair. If he was closer, he would have seen that your rosy lips were the result of you biting them to strengthen your concentration on berry picking. To his hidden delight, those same lips did not stop singing as minutes passed. The sight before him eased his suspicions significantly, but he was still hesitant about making his presence known. The Prince had planned to turn on his heels and try to forget what he saw, but once he put his guard down, his vigilance followed suit. A larger branch whimpered as it cracked from the weight of his body, and the next thing he could properly process was the girl’s frightened eyes meeting him.

From your perspective, it was after you had noticed that the birds were completely silent that you heard the branch break. You glanced at your surroundings briefly, picking up the largest rock you spotted. Just in case. You were on edge more than usual, so you whipped around to see why the sound was coming from behind you, and what had been causing it. Any other creature was what you expected, but when you saw a man crouched behind a shrub, you instinctively screamed and threw the rock right at him, hitting his head. The basket of freshly picked berries was knocked over as you tried to gather the fabric of your dress. Your shoes carried you to the nearest tree and you hid behind it and held your breath. The anticipation grew up your spine as the silence persisted. Minutes passed without any response from the mysterious man so she peeked. You could see the man’s wavy black hair still peeking out of what he previously hid behind.

You had concluded that ten minutes was not the normal amount of time that someone would pretend to be unconscious, so you approached his still body with your hands stretched out, ready to defend your own life. His face was the first thing she noticed about him. His features were so striking that you felt that if you reached out with your hands, your fingers would have bled. His physical appearance did not match the frayed clothing that he was wearing. Every strand of his hair fell into perfect position even though he had been knocked down on the ground. He was well-groomed in every sense of the word. It was odd. From your speed search, there did not seem to be any weapons on him, which made the situation even stranger.

“Oh, no.” You sank to the ground in shame.

Your fingers warily made their way to his wrist to check for a pulse, then his neck. He was so cold that without the hammering beating of his heart, she would have assumed that he was already dead. The growing red colour on his arm and the thin cut on his temple made the situation even more critical. You needed to get him to your home, but you did not know how to. You scrambled to pick up the man, but the weight you felt when you attempted to lift him by his shoulders was enough to convince you that dragging him back home would not work. Everything seemed pointless until you heard the heavy breaths and cries of a horse not too far from where you were. You thought that if it was not this strange man’s horse, then who else would be around to tie a horse to a tree? After practically begging the horse to lie down, you were finally able to drag the man onto it. That’s when you definitely knew you made the right decision. The majestic, pitch-black creature seemed so comfortable with the heavy man thrown over it like a towel.

“Come along now, sweetie.” You took the horse’s reins and walked it to your cottage.

When Prince Yeosang woke up, the first thing he saw was a cat. It was perched on his chest with no thought about the consent of the stranger. Its mismatched green and blue eyes almost distracted Yeosang from the fact that he was in a room that he was unfamiliar with. Not only that, but he felt something wrapped tightly around his arm and something else sticking against his temple. Before he could panic, he heard someone coming into the room.

“Laura!” You came rushing in. The cat was quickly removed from the prince’s chest, and he felt like he was left completely thoughtless. You tried to cradle Laura, but the cat leapt from your hands and out of the room. “I’m so sorry,” oyu said. The man stayed completely still, as the emotion on his face still remained ambiguous. You took that as your cue to introduce yourself with your first name. You waited to see if he would introduce himself too. When he didn’t, you continued. “You fell on a rock and were out cold when I checked you. Um,” you quickly pointed to the window on your right, “your horse is outside. I fed him… he’s really pretty.”

“Thank you,” he said. At any other time, the prince would be ready to fight his way out of a situation, but he was more focused on the light from the candles in the room gently contouring your face. Your beauty was painfully enchanting. It was a surprise how your features stupefied him the moment you stumbled through the door.

“Your food.” You dashed out of the small room as quickly as you came in. Your dress moved like billowing clouds as you made haste to retrieve his food, your quick footsteps giving the illusion that you were floating. Yeosang felt like he was looking at a person from the very fairy tales he heard as a child.

You came back in carrying a tray with a bowl and utensils in the centre. “Would you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Some food,” you nervously stated. Your idea of bringing the man back to your cabin was as awkward as you expected it to be, you were starting to regret your plan.

“Oh…” he nodded, “yes, please.” It should not have been that easy for a stranger to convince him to ingest anything, but he already had the silverware in his mouth before he was mentally chastising himself for being so easily charmed.

“I’m sorry for the confusion. I think you got cut on a sharp rock because your arm was bleeding really bad,” you said. That is when Yeosang finally stopped eating and looked at his left arm. It was utterly embarrassing that he did not notice it was entirely bandaged until now. He did not want to admit how bad it looked from the few discoloured parts of flesh peeking through. “And… you must’ve hit your head on something. I put some plasters on the little bit, but I think it should be fine by now.”

“Still, I would hate for you to continue your journey with an injured arm,” you added. You kept your attention on his wounded limb, it was jarring to see how dark his eyes were. They intimidated you into looking anywhere but at him and attempting bad conversation. “You can stay here until you feel well enough to return to what you were doing if that’s what she would like.”

“Thank you so much for your kindness.” Yeosang was no longer going to lie to himself. He knew he would rather spend days with the bewitching woman who saved his life than return to his very own prison. He would just hope that you didn’t have any ill intentions because it would be a shame if he would have to take you out himself.

“So,” you got up to mindlessly shuffle some stuff in the room. “What’s your name?” you grinned.

“Yeosang,” he replied without much thought. He wanted to take it back, but it was too late. No one really called him that anymore—but if you didn’t recognise him as the prince of this nation, he would try his best to keep it that way even if he could only experience a form of normality for a few days.

“That’s a lovely name… May I ask where you’re from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around the nearest town…” You trailed off at the end in hesitation.

He thought for a moment before he said, “Gyeongju.”

“Oh, my—What’s it like? I’ve never been to the capital.” You could not stop your true reaction from escaping.

“It’s…” he let out a sigh, “pleasant.” The conversation died for a moment so you focused on Laura making it to the top of your dresser. It was your excuse for still not looking at him. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was raised here” you replied as you stroked Laura. He nodded. The conservation did not go any further until you chimed in again, “Well, it’s late. It’s such a shame that you just woke up.”

“I’m sure I’ll sleep,” he voiced politely.

“Okay.” You smiled and began to snuff out the candles around the room. “The door’ll be open so if you have any problems, you can just ask.”

The prince mindlessly nodded to your instruction. It would have been easy to ask where you would be if he was not so uncharacteristically timid. Yeosang refused to try to sleep. There was still some hesitance that made him cautious of sinking into the bed with a weak arm. It grew stiffer as the night continued, so he distracted himself with a book that was left on the wooden dresser.

The feeling of a weight on the Prince’s chest woke him up. When his eyes snapped open, they were looking at the sharp eyes of a feline which brought back memories of the afternoon before. His consciousness did not scare away the cat—as he had desired—but he knew picking up Laura would surely bring unpredictable pain. So, he stayed in an undisclosed staring match with her even as he heard small movements outside the room. After a short period, his focus broke once he heard distant calls for the cat. The young Prince looked back at the cat, which was now preparing to fall asleep on his lap until it met his eyes again. Laura stood right back up—he almost expected her to groan—and hopped off of the bed and out of the room. He followed suit, careful not to strain his injuries, and got out of bed. His body ached more than he was used to. It hurt all over, but there was a more pronounced pain in his forehead. Unfortunately, there was not much to do but follow the path Laura had shown to the kitchen.

“Laura—” The cat quickly interrupted you by hopping into your arms as you crouched. “Where did you go?” you petted her. Yeosang walked into the kitchen, but his steps in his shoes were very quiet. You didn’t notice him until Laura turned from staring at absolutely nothing to the towering wounded man. “Did you wake him?” You whispered to her. Laura continued to stare at the towering, pale man. “I apologise,” you muttered. He nodded with the faintest, courteous smile. You took the trace of emotion that you were given and pulled out a dining chair as you gestured him over. His long legs took him over to the dining table without much effort.

“Thank you.” He completed a small bow, and he sat. Instead of going into his meal, he looked around as you were occupied with trying to get Laura to eat. His brief scanning of the house had him see his horse through the window to the right of him.

“He was fed this morning,” you reassured him.

“Thank you.” He felt like an echo in a cave. He still had not said anything besides constantly thanking you for your hospitality. “He appears to be doing much better than I am.” He was satisfied to see how easily you let out a small chuckle.

After making sure Laura had finished eating, you rose and grabbed the handles of a woven picnic basket. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you told him as you looked at his nose instead of his eyes because it was easier that way. You turned to Laura and whispered to her ears, “Please, behave, and don’t embarrass me.” As if she would listen if she could. As you went through the door, you looked back for a brief moment. You saw the man’s head whip back to attentively look at the cat on the dining chair. You closed the door and sent a small prayer that if the man tried to take anything or cause any trouble, then your cat would at least try to put up a fight.

Once the door had completely closed and your gentle footsteps grew quieter, he waited three minutes while eating and carrying on the staring match he had with the tabby cat, then got up and let his legs lead him throughout the house. Different varieties of dried flowers spun into circles were gently laid into a bowl. Next to it was the basket of berries he believed he saw yesterday. Plates were lazily leaning against the wall on a shelf while mugs were hanging from hooks. A sweet smell lingered in the kitchen, even though it looked recently cleaned. He couldn’t exactly name the scent but it resembled a mixture of vanilla and something fruity. He did not lose interest in the kitchen but knew his nosy lingering may take longer if he stayed. Yeosang walked to the living room to see two small armchairs next to a well-maintained fireplace. The abundance of shelves on the wall were filled with many books of varying sizes and colours. There was a knitted blanket haphazardly tossed over the chair facing his room.

He continued scanning the room and saw a closed door he never noticed; he had no time to think about the chairs any further. Had he been a guest anywhere else, he would have honoured privacy, but he considered this a unique circumstance. His fingers enveloped the handle and the door whined as he slowly pushed it open. All he did was poke his head in and was met with a clean and very simple room. It was a lot like the one he slept in, except there were different items decorating the tiny dresser. 

Ultimately, Yeosang felt pleased enough with what he glimpsed that he took his snooping to the front door. He held the door latch, peered through the window next to it, and opened the door.

The sun hit his cheeks in small ruptures as its rays tried to twist through the thick trees that blanketed and guarded the cottage. His horse stood without any sign of distress. Yeosang petted the horse while simultaneously giving him some of the berries that Yeosang took off of his plate.

The Prince looked around the exterior of the cottage as his companion leisurely absorbed the sun. The house almost appeared swallowed by bushes, shrubs, flowers, and a few potted plants. His slightly tattered shoes led him around the house. There was a small garden of salad leaves in their pots. With one of his hands brought behind his back, he leaned in to look further at the vegetation.

“You found dinner.” 

Your small voice only tapped his ears, but it startled him into losing his balance. He would have caught himself if she had not assumed he would crush the leaves and attempt to catch him. Your hasty moves caused your steps to be misplaced and she crashed into his hard, warm back. You expected to take him down with you, but he did not budge. Once you realized your face was not meeting the dirt, but rather remained on his back, you erected your spine back up and tried to ignore the wave of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry!” You frantically tried to smoothen the wrinkles on his clothes while avoiding his eyes.

You thought you heard a chuckle come from him. It would have been hard to miss it if his shoulders did not shake when he laughed. “I should be apologizing,” he briefly looks at the plants before switching to look you in the eyes, “I’ve been exploring.”

“That’s fine,” you assured. As he watched you pick up your basket, Yeosang wondered how he got so occupied that he did not notice your return. You walked back to the front of the cottage and inside without checking to see if he was following you. Laura poked her head up upon the opening of the door and right back down when she saw it was you.

“May I?” you heard him say. You turned and saw him, gesturing toward the rows of books you had on display.

“Go ahead,” you said, “there’s not a lot for you to do around here, unfortunately.”

“It’s quite alright, this is enough entertainment.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” You went back to rummaging through a cabinet for the items you needed to tend to the plants outside.

For Yeosang, the morning went by as quickly as the last chapter of the book had arrived. He noticed that you had gone outside, but not that the sun had already made it to its highest point by the time he closed the story and set it aside. He made an effort to inconspicuously look outside the window leading outside to the front of the house to see if he could spot you and not just a tall black horse. His effort was a failure, but his pride found another alternative. The Prince rose from the chair and walked outside.

As he pretended to walk closer to his companion, he got a much better view of you. Your hands were occupied with tending to the pieces of each plant as your eyes followed them with deep concentration. He saw strands of your hair spilling out of a patterned headscarf you used to protect yourself from the sun. From those same strands came a single bead of sweat that started from your head, down the side of your face, and past your jaw. It continued down your neck and that’s when he refused to keep looking further.

“How was the book?” You looked at him for a moment to see him looking at his horse with too much focus.

He looked over and tried to pretend to have just noticed you. “Good,” he replied. He watched you get up from the ground.

You removed your gloves and walked closer to him. “Could I– um–” She pointed to his bandaged arm.

“Of course,” he replied.

As soon as you were given permission, you took his hand with one hand and lifted his arm with the other. You inched closer in hopes of seeing more without having to move the arm any more than needed. During your inspection, from his height, he was able to see the natural curl of your lashes. The fragments of the sun made the warm glow of your skin more apparent. When you took his hands, it was a moment of cold clarity. He could not remember the last time he was so aware that he was touching another person as it was happening.

“Yeosang?” you looked up at him and were surprised by the lack of space you were giving him. It was easier to pretend that you did not notice.

He hummed in response

“I asked you ‘how much does it hurt?’”

“It aches, not as painful as yesterday, though.”

You nodded, gently placing his hand back down. “And your head?” You gestured at your temple.

“Feels fine to me.”

“Wonderful.”

The rest of the afternoon flew by thanks to the chores she tended to outside and inside, with Yeosang lingering behind you every step of the way. He offered help many times, but you denied his offers and told him not to put stress on his arm. Not wanting to be completely useless, he held a short conversation. It was when dinner was ready and Laura was eating out her plate that you both fell back onto the topic of where he was from.

“Forgive me for asking, but what’s the Palace like?” you asked. He mentioned working there during one of your short conversations.

“Um,” he thought for a moment as he chewed, “clean, I suppose?” You finally heard the sound of laughter not just from yourself, but from him as well as he shrugged. It was nice, and it filled up the house with warmth. “I’ve never had the chance to observe it all,” he said.

“Were you busy?”

“Many duties,” he claimed.

His responses were as short as the time you had known him, but they were getting longer, much to your delight. You wanted to ask him what his job was, but you were not sure if you would be poking too much into his personal business. However, your curiosity about the outside world fueled you to keep going. “Are those duties being neglected right now?”

 “Possibly.”

“I’ll try my best to help speed up your recovery,” you pushed around a piece of asparagus on your plate.

“Much appreciated, but I’m sure they don’t miss me too much.” He quietly appreciated your questions, because as he answered them, the excitement in your eyes never dimmed.

You nodded in response and continued to eat. You pretended not to look at him as he ate, but even in the evening, the dim lighting of the candles scattered around the house made his face look even more enticing. You saw him glance over to check on his horse outside.

“Your horse should be fine outside. Nothing ever comes by here,” you assured.

“It is quite an isolated home,” he realised.

“Yes,” you agreed.

It was quiet for a few more moments until he asked a question of his own. “Have you always lived here?”

“Yes. Can’t really remember living anywhere else.” You tried to pet Laura as she wrapped herself around your foot, but she then began avoiding your hand before skittering under the table to settle at his feet.

“Really? I’ve never come across here,” he said as his brows furrowed, but he nodded before going back to his meal.

The rest of the evening was spent cleaning up the events of the day that passed. The current occupants of the house finished the day with reading. Once it was time to retreat into sleep, you were already fast asleep on the chair with your quilt and a book trapped under it with you.

Yeosang saw how shallow your breaths became and how supple your cheeks were when they were pressed against your shoulder that you used as a pillow. He took it as his cue to go to the bed he was given. He went around and snuffed out each flame in every candle with the tips of his fingers. He pretended to ignore the cat as she followed him into the room and slept beside him. He made the effort to try to rest by telling himself that this would probably be the only real rest he would get for the next decade.

The sun brought in the next day and he never remembered falling asleep or waking up. The stiffness in his back made it clear that he did both of those things. He wished that he was not a little disappointed that Laura did not greet him with her morning stare, but he did not take it personally. He simply put on the same shoes and hoped that he would find someone in the kitchen even though there was no noise coming from any part of the house. He made it into the living room and was met with complete stillness and silence. From the window, he could see his horse grazing. Once he made it outside, the sun was shining much brighter than he expected. He had slept longer than he had intended.

It was relieving to see Laura preoccupied with attacking insects, but one more person was missing. Amid his deep thoughts, he petted his horse and scanned around the house for any sign of you getting a task done.

“I suppose you don’t know where she is,” the Prince playfully said to the cat.

Later, a certain beauty walked back to her cottage with a picnic basket of her clothes in one hand and a large bucket of water in the other. You bid good morning to your cat and his horse on your path back inside the house. It was almost as quiet as you left it, but you did hear some movement coming from inside your old room.

He could already tell it was you who came back just by the gentleness of the sound of the footsteps that came inside. The prince already had a book in his hand, trying not to look flush when he saw your head poke into the room.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he made the effort to remember to smile instead of just staring.

“I’m here to change your bandage.” You came in with a new set of clothes in your hand and the other necessary items to clean up a wound. The various plasters you stuck onto his right temple were already removed the day before, nothing but a faint bruise was left behind. His arm, however, would take a bit longer to heal. As you took off his bandage, you forced your hands to not tremble, repeatedly reminding yourself to only touch where it was necessary despite how tempting the muscles of his arm looked. Once the fabric was completely off, he got to see the injury that was his excuse to extend his vacation. The deep cut started halfway up his forearm and to his upper arm. It was like a dark red serpent permanently etched on his skin. I suppose that does seem pretty bad…

“I think it might scar,” you said as you gently tried to wipe off areas of dried blood.

“I wouldn’t worry,” you heard him say, “… a scar isn’t too hard to get rid of.”

You nodded in hesitation and pretended you could not feel his deep brown eyes staring at you as you worked. “I brought you some water from the stream so you can bathe. You can wear that shirt over there while I clean this one.”

“Thank you, but I’ll heal just the same without you inconveniencing yourself.” His comment was genuine but had a mixture of disappointment.

“Well, it is my responsibility.” You tried not to seem entranced by his starless eyes as you both stopped for a moment to look at each other.

“Why?” he asked. You shrugged your shoulders in response, ignoring the unspoken truth marinating on your tongue. It’s my fault you got hurt.

The afternoon with him in the cottage was slightly more talkative than the days before. He attempted to play with Laura as he pretended to read, skimming the same line over and over and over again. In the moments when he was not too distracted, he watched you complete some more chores around the property with the occasional insistence to help. You begged him to remain rested and even threatened him to sell his horse if he tried to help, but in exchange he let you continue to ask about the capital. His description of the palace brought shame to the books describing the same place. He was surprised at how willing he was to recount the layout of the place he had come to know well. By then, speaking more openly to you was much less difficult than he had expected it to be.

By the time the sunlight took over the country, he was intrigued by how quickly the days were being eaten by the cooperation of the moon and the sun. On his way to return the books that he took, he watched you begin to blow out each candle until the darkness flooded the cottage. Yeosang took the opportunity to retreat into his temporary room, in which Laura was already sleeping at the foot of the bed.

“Yeosang,” you spoke into the darkness. He turned around. You noticed how well his figure fit into the darkness. His ink hair almost blended into the surrounding shadows. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled.

It was a good night. He allowed his bed to swallow him much easier than the nights before, but you took longer to fall asleep.

The very late afternoon the next day was the perfect time to go searching for food in the forest. It was initially meant to be a solo trip, but the not-so-unfamiliar stranger refused to hear your request to rest his arm, tagged along, and promised to only watch. The walk throughout the woods was filled with the sound of shoes crushing leaves and branches accompanied by a pleasant chat. It was a few minutes into your search that she found what they were looking for.

��They’re beautiful!” You smiled and looked back at the tall man to see if he was just as happy as you were. He returned your smile with his own since he was amused by your child-like giddiness.

Without paying caution, she enthusiastically reached for the berries. He reached for your wrist to stop you from hurting yourself, but it was too late. A particular thorn right above the fruit sliced through your flesh much deeper than it would have if she had noticed it. As the thorn ran through your hand, parting skin from one another like a boulder spilling crashing waves in the ocean, blood began rushing out of her open wound. She knew better than to pull back her hand recklessly, knowing it might make the situation worse. He did it for her instead. He carefully took her hand and tried to cover the wound. 

The wound wasn’t terrible or serious in any way, but neither of you acknowledged that as he cradled your hands a mere five minutes later, the two of you sat on the sofa. His hands, though large and masculine, felt surprisingly soft. He wiped the spilt blood clean and carefully placed a plaster over it. Even after successfully treating your small wound, he kept your hand in both of his, looking down at them and absentmindedly brushing his thumb over your knuckles. You didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you’d been yearning to feel his touch more and more as the days passed.

A comfortable silence passed over the two of you, but minutes later a conversation came by naturally. If someone asked you what this conversation was about, you wouldn’t have been able to answer, for you were so comfortable speaking to him that you let down your guard, words flowing freely without a second thought. At some point, the two of you had moved closer. So close that you had lain down while he stayed sat, your legs thrown over his at some point as his hands tapped and caressed your knees.

You talked well into the night. Naturally, you grew tired, your eyelids drooping as you looked up at him, trying your best not to fall asleep. He caught on quickly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave your knee a brief squeeze.

“You’re tired,” he pointed out, “you should sleep.”

In response, you pouted and shook your head. “No, no. I’m fine. Keep talking to me, please.”

His smile softened at your words and did as you asked. The low baritone of his voice did nothing to keep you awake, soothing you further asleep. Minutes later, he thought you’d agree to go to your bed and sleep, but you only whined in your half-asleep state and pulled him down with you, clutching onto his sleeve but still careful not to hurt him.

And so he found himself laying with you on the couch, the two of you squished together on the narrow furniture yet it was still comfortable. You fell asleep much quicker than he did, already prancing around in dreamland by the time he finished manoeuvring the two of you to lay comfortably. Eventually, your gentle breaths against his neck and soft hand on his arm lulled him into a deep sleep.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 5 - Clandestine Meetings

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

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Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Every interaction has finally led you to this moment, straight into the arms of the man you love.

18+ Only! Minors DNI! (Smut and Mature themes)

CW: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Infidelity (reader is married). Dirty talk. Smut! Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. Big Dick!Steve. Protected P in V. Hint of a breeding kink (for both reader and Steve).

WC: 8.4K

The hours ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace while sitting in your room waiting for the first trace of light to filter through the curtains so you could sneak back out. You sat alternating between chewing your nails and ringing your hands.

Your only consuming thought was getting back to the office to gain access to your phone and warn Steve.

At least waiting for morning didn't make it quite as suspicious. It would be under the guise that you needed to make sure the space was properly cleaned and organized for business as usual come Monday.

It wasn't unusual. Nik knew you were meticulous, if not a little OCD regarding the gallery. He wouldn't bat an eye your way. At least you hoped so, after what you had overheard on your way in, you had to be extra vigilant.

When those first beams of light finally trickled in, you were off, not bothering to alert your driver or anyone else in the house, grabbing the keys to your cherry red convertible that Nik had purchased for you when you'd returned from your honeymoon.

It was one present you were now thankful for, the only vehicle in the house you had exclusive access to.

You quickly went to the garage and got behind the wheel, starting the engine and initiating the automatic garage door.

Nik watched you from his second-floor window with disdain and contempt, immediately phoning one of his many goons to make sure they followed you. Lucky for you they would have nothing useful to report back to him today.

You raced across town feeling as though you were against some sort of impending countdown.

It was early but you hoped Steve was already up as you sent your text.

6:20 AM: Please call me.

Simple. Effective. The phone rang within 30 seconds.

“What's wrong?” He asked before you had the chance to speak, sounding a little winded. “I'll be there in 10 minutes.”

“No, no. Steve. I'm fine.” You assured him, an audible sigh of relief was heard on the other end of the line. “It's you I'm worried about. When I came home last night, Nik was speaking with the boogeyman. Have you heard of him?”

There was a pause, his mind silently letting it register who you were referring to while choosing his next words carefully to not alarm you in any sort of way.

“I have. What did you hear?”

“Nik said he wanted to have him on standby. It doesn't sound like he's planning anything right away, but it's Nik. Any little thing could set him off.” You felt yourself getting worked up as you took a ragged breath. “Steve, I— I can't—”

“Dove, listen to my voice. Take a deep breath for me, tesoro. It's just you and me right now.”

You focused solely on his calm demeanor, yet commanding tone as you inhaled and then let out a deep exhale like he asked.

“Better?” He questioned.

“Better.” You parroted, a small smile finally gracing your features.

“Good, now let's avoid trying to give me a heart attack first thing in the morning, yeah?” You could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke. He was ready to leave the house at a moment's notice for you. He'd been prepared for all kinds of scenarios, hoping for best but always prepared for the worst.

“I can't promise, but I'll try to save the dramatics for a more reasonable hour.” You laughed, as the rest of your trepidation further slipped away. He had a way of doing that. Making you feel completely calm and safe.

“I'll come by tomorrow, if that's alright.” He took a seat at his desk and leaned back in his plush leather chair with another sigh.

“Of course, but I'm fine. Truly. I just needed to let you know.” I needed to hear your voice.

“I know, Dove. I just want to come by to see my girl.” The words came out so easily, he didn't even notice when they slipped out. In his mind, you were always his.

“Your girl, huh?” You grinned to yourself.

“Always, tesoro mio. Stay safe and say hello to your father for me.”

“My father?”

“It's Sunday, no? That was always a tradition in your house. Don't tell me you don't do that anymore.” Something Steve had always longed for. A family that actually cared enough for one another to have dinner once a week. He craved that kind of closeness with his own family some day.

“Of course, it's just— nothing, it doesn't matter. I'll see you tomorrow, amore mio.”

Amore mio. Your parting words had him over the moon. You were still his, in every way. He had a few more surprises for you in the days to come and he couldn't wait to share them with you.

He suddenly felt like a teenager again. Sneaking around so his father wouldn't find you together, except this time the stakes were much higher. He knew the dangers, but you were more than worth it.

-

The truth you didn't want to tell Steve was that you hadn't made lunch plans with your father. Not since the day he shed light on everything that he knew.

You had been keeping him at an arm's length. Texting him instead of calling him. Avoiding any face-to-face interactions if at all possible. It wouldn't last forever but right now it's what you needed.

He respected your decision, but he was hurting too. His only child going from devoted daughter to almost completely ignoring him gave him immediate whiplash, but deep down he knew he deserved it. After that day, he vowed to make everything right.

He was prepared to follow through, whatever the cost. He wasn't about to lose the only light he had left in his miserable life.

The day was open to possibilities, rarely staying at home anymore unless some sort of “wifely” duty was called for, but even that was becoming less frequent. You suspected Nik wanted nothing to do with you at this point.

It did worry you, but at the same time there was a huge sense of relief.

It was a beautiful, sunshine filled day. A walk around the park to clear your head and get some fresh air was high on the agenda.

You found an empty park bench close to the playground to read for a while.

The breeze was warm, spring would soon usher in summer, as children laughed and carried on around you. The book you tried to read, long forgotten sitting closed beside you.

You let yourself imagine for a moment what it would be like to be nothing more than a woman sitting at a bench who was free to do as she pleased, not chained to a life she was born into but one that was all her own.

Given the chance, you could walk away but the man you loved could never have that luxury. Deep down you know that he would have tried to make your life as normal as possible because it's what you had always wanted.

A simple dream of being a wife and someday a mother almost seemed too out of reach but when you looked at him you could still picture it all perfectly. You were both like minded, sharing the same dreams and goals. It has always been that way.

A child screamed in the distance, knocking you from your daydream. It was getting late in the afternoon as you packed your things and headed back home for the day.

You'd been expecting him all morning.

“Excuse me, miss?” He asked toward you and your assistant, Abigail turned as you bit your lip, hiding the smile that threatened to give you away all too easily.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington. How can…” Your assistant began, but you quickly cut it, relieved to see him again.

“That's okay, Abigail. I'll see this gentleman.” She nodded and quickly dashed away.

He had turned back to a sculpture that had just made it to the floor, hands clasped behind his back seemingly studying it as you walked up standing beside him.

“Quite exquisite, no?” You asked.

“It's well, it's…” he tilts his head, eyes roving down and back up your body instead. “I would say breathtaking.”

“Is that so, Mr. Harrington?” You finally meet his gaze, soft hazel eyes focused solely on you as he studies your face.

You didn't want to break the trance, but it was beginning to feel suffocating being in this close proximity to him.

You swallowed thickly before looking away from him, cheeks flushing pink. You'd hope he hadn't noticed.

“So, does anything catch your eye?” Simply referring to the art.

“Absolutely. But what I want is sadly unavailable.” He whispered; you hadn't noticed when he'd inched closer; his woodsy scented cologne suddenly surrounding you.

You met his eyes, as he tucked his bottom lip briefly between his teeth drawing your attention back to his pouty lips.

“I would love nothing more than to take her home. Show her all the ways I've missed her, wishing I could take it all back.” Your body felt like it was being pulled toward him, as his eyes drifted to your lips.

“Steve, I—” It came out almost pained, as you released a breath you'd been holding.

“I told you once if this is too much, I'll stop. Just tell me what YOU need.”

Need. Not want. As if he already knew.

“I need room to breathe. I need the love and affection I so desperately crave. I need freedom.” Your eyes checked the room before stepping closer and whispering to him. “And most of all, I need you.”

“I'm working on that.” He replied, a small twinkle in his eye. He was up to something.

“I trust you are, but right now, Mr. Harrington, I need to get back to work.”

“Of course, I'll leave you to it.” He reached for you, fingertips grazing lightly across your skin before pulling your hand up tenderly to his lips placing a small kiss to the back of your hand; squeezing lightly before letting it rest back at your side.

The moment his lips touched your skin your mind went blank. You stare at him unblinking for a moment more before he smiles.

“Arrivederci, my dove.” He turned, leaving you to trail after him.

Steve would stop at nothing to keep you safe and make you his once more. He was ready to play the long game and he knew he'd win; family or husbands be damned. He knows who your heart truly belongs to just as he knows his has always belonged to you.

You had a habit of leaving your burner out in the afternoon while you finished working.

Sometimes he would text or call, knowing you were still at the office. You checked it after taking a small break.

921-987-5555 5:38PM: Tesoro, I left a few things unsaid this afternoon. Are you free to talk?

Sent 6:09 PM: Of course.

The phone began to buzz a few moments later.

“Mr. Harrington?” You asked.

“Ms. Alexander, it would be a pleasure to have you accompany me for dinner tomorrow evening.” He stated.

“Ste—” releasing a heavy sigh, as he interrupted.

“Ah, ah I know what you're going to say, but just listen. I have a place just around the corner from your gallery. It'll just be you and I, away from prying eyes.” Pausing a moment to light a cigarette between his lips letting what he had just said sink in for a moment. The two of you. Alone.

“What do you say? I'll show you those cooking skills and make us a nice dinner.” Taking a large drag, giving you the moment to speak.

“I— I'll think about it. It's—”

“Hey, don't worry about those goons or the goddamn Boogeyman. You deserve a night without worries. I want to give you that at least. Just think about it. Please?” He chimed in, as your mind began to drift with the possibilities.

“Okay.” You replied softly. “I'll think about it.”

“Good girl.” He purred, leaning back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. If his father could see him now, he'd likely kill him. “Take the night, Dove. Think it over.”

And you had been thinking it over. The last four hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling. It all felt like a fever dream. It was happening so fast yet taking its time.

You began to relive that moment from the gala over and over, always wishing and hoping for more. This was your chance.

You suddenly began aching with need at the thought of finally being alone with him, imagining his large hands roaming your body. His lips trailing soft kisses. His mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your fingertips slipped past the waistband of your satin sleep shorts until they swirled along your clit, dipping further to your entrance as images of the two of you tangled together danced behind your eyelids. It didn't take very long for your orgasm to build at the thought of him filling you completely, remembering vividly what his cock looked and felt like.

He was bigger than anyone you'd been with since, not only long but thick with a prominent vein that ran down the underside almost from base to tip. You could picture the way he stretched you open with just his head, working you down his length little by little while whispering sweet praises in your ear.

“Steve.” You whispered out, breathy and high, working yourself as your fingers tried to reach that sweet spongy spot inside you. Your clit was throbbing, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you came harder than you had in a long time, picturing him telling you what a good job you'd done.

You slept easy that night.

It was never a choice. Your mind has been made up since the first time you had laid eyes on him again. It was time to take a leap.

Once you'd reached the office, you sent him a simple text stating, “when and where?”

It was followed quickly with an answer. His driver would be parked around back at 7 PM.

Your nerves were high, and your heart was pounding, excitement more than anything fueling your body.

When you locked up the driver was already outside waiting for you just as Steve had instructed, opening the door for you.

“For you miss.” Announcing when you got closer, handing you a small manila envelope. You hold it close as you sit down. “We don't have far to go, but do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” Replying as he nodded and closed the door. No doubt under Steve's explicit instructions to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

The envelope has a little weight to it, you noted while opening it. No letter, you flipped it over as a brass key fell into your hand with a small slip of paper.

Top floor. Apartment 3.

Take the elevator, it's the last door on the left.

This was it. It felt like everything had been leading up to this moment and your life was about to change. If only you knew how true that would be after tonight.

The driver stopped about a block away at a smaller, but well-maintained apartment complex. Very low key. Your head swiveled, eyes looking over your shoulder for any hint of being followed.

“That key will open the main door; the apartment should be unlocked.” Tipping his hat as you exited the vehicle and walked the couple of stairs up to the front.

The interior was nice, recently updated with fresh paint and new flooring. The elevator was adjacent to the door, you entered and pressed 5 as it began to ascend.

You shifted, tapping your foot in time with each beat of your heart for the short ride up, as the door slid open revealing an equally empty hallway.

You took a deep breath, stepping out, immediately noticing a large, very intimidating gentleman posted by the stairwell. He spoke into an earpiece as you walked past him, otherwise ignoring your presence.

Steve has enough security stationed at various strategic points that no one could get within a fifty-foot radius of the two of you tonight.

Face to face with the cream-colored door adorned with the brass 3, you wondered if you should knock but dismissed the silly notion because he was expecting you, after all.

You slowly turned the matching brass knob, letting the door swing open slightly.

The intoxicating aroma of rosemary and garlic wafted through the air to meet you, pushing the door open so you could slip in.

It was a smaller apartment, the entrance situated inside the kitchen. His back was turned, humming to himself, as he chopped some fresh herbs.

His black dress shirt sleeves were rolled up his forearms, with a towel slung over his shoulder, still dressed in his expensive trousers and Italian loafers. He almost seemed completely out of place but at the same time, exactly where he should be.

Closing the door softly, you lean against the wall taking in the sight. He looks completely domesticated and it immediately feels like home.

For a few moments, you can imagine that this is your life. The life you were meant to have. Coming home to him each night. A loving, and caring man that had only had your best interests at heart. You craved these kinds of intimate moments.

He finished chopping and tossed the leafy greens into a pot of simmering sauce on top of the stove.

“There's a bottle of wine and a glass for you on the table.” He spoke, taking a spoon to stir in his newly added ingredients. “I know merlot isn't your favorite, but it pairs well with the meal.”

“Merlot is fine Steve. You'll find my tastes have changed somewhat.” Tossing your purse to the open counter beside you.

“Is that so?” He raised a brow toward you, looking over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his spoon raising it to his lips to have a small taste.

“That is so, Mr. Harrington.” You grinned, pouring your wine as you looked over the label, but it was from an Italian vineyard you hadn't heard of.

“Need any help with that?” Asking as you stepped closer to him.

“Now, what kind of host would I be if I let you lift a finger? Hmmm?” Pulling the towel from his shoulder, wiping his hands and tossing it to the counter before turning his attention fully to you. He found his own glass, eyeing you appreciatively over the rim as he took a sip.

“You look nice today.” Saying as an almost afterthought, eyes trailing down and back up. You were wearing a maroon silk button up, paired with a simple black skirt, sheer black hosiery and matching heels. Normal work attire.

“As opposed to any other day?” You giggled, sipping on the rich wine, noting hints of blackberry and subtle dark chocolate when the liquid splashed along your tastebuds.

“Tesoro,” he states, setting his wine down and taking a few steps to close the gap between you as you follow his lead, setting your own glass down. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, your own landing on his chest, as you look up at him with bemused curiosity.

“You look beautiful, EVERY day.” He was crowding your space, invading your senses. A tingling, buzzing feeling began to hum beneath your skin. He was so close when he spoke his warm breath fanned across your cheek.

“You don't see me everyday.” You remarked, eyes trained on his, subtly shifting to his lips and back up.

“Don't remind me.” He huffed, his hold drifting to your lower back, pressing you closer still.

You were suddenly hungry for something other than food, as you bit your lower lip, looking up at him as if he'd hung the moon with stars in your eyes. You could feel the heat of his body radiating between the thin layers of fabric separating you, your own heat just beginning to pool between your thighs.

“Oh, wait.” Remembering what you had bought earlier in the day, reluctantly pulling from his grasp.

You reached your purse, noticing the rings still adorning your left hand. Pausing a moment, you pulled them off, slipping them into a side compartment. You weren't a Petrov tonight, pushing all thoughts of Nik aside.

It was just you and Steve.

“Here!” You pulled a box out, tossing it toward his chest. He caught it easily, looking down with a puzzled look.

“Condoms?” He quirked his brow up at you.

“Uh, we can't be too careful right now. As much as I would love for you to— um” you giggled, turning away from him briefly, suddenly feeling shy under his questioning gaze.

“Fuck you raw?” He finished with a salacious grin that had you blushing like a schoolgirl. “Like we haven't done that before?” He huffed an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah, well, Nonna Vittoria made sure we were covered back then, Steve. I haven't taken birth control since I got married.” You sucked in your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes. “If I remember correctly, your pullout game was terrible.”

His mouth fell open slightly, with a small gasp that had you laughing out. Nerves slowly melting away with the lighthearted banter.

“That isn't my fault. IF I remember correctly, you were the one always begging for it.” His hands drifted to his hips as he shot you a playful glare.

“Steven! I did not! We have to be careful until…” You looked away again, suddenly feeling shy once more. A silly notion.

“Until?” He questions further, taking a step into your space.

“Just until, well— we're together.”

“Are we not together?” His hand cups the nape of your neck, as the other drifts to your hip pulling you into him. You toy with his collar before looking into his honey hued irises that seemed to draw you in.

“You know what I mean, Steve. I can't exactly be fucking you without some sort of plan.”

“Wait, is that why you're here?” He looks around the room, as if confused. “I thought I was just making us a nice dinner.”

“Stop!” You whine out, slapping his chest, squirming slightly to step away from his grasp but he holds firm.

“Where do you think you're going, huh?” He asks, leaning in, the tip of his nose nudging yours. “I'm not letting you go.”

“Promise?” Tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

“I promise, tesoro mio.”

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with a needy and raw excitement. Intense in all the best ways but you needed more. You were hungry, licking at his mouth. Tongues meeting in a messy crescendo, tasting each other, as if it were the first time all over again, nerves suddenly giving away to butterflies dancing at your ribs.

Your hands began pawing at his chest, gripping the fabric of his starchy, black dress shirt. Fingers finding the buttons and making quick work of them.

“No interruptions this time?” You breathe out, pulling slightly away from him, pushing his shirt open, as he grips the bottom to move it free from his slacks and lets it peel away from his body leaving him in his undershirt.

“No. Fuck no. He's under strict orders not to bother us.” His lips find your jaw.

A small giggle quickly turns into a breathy moan as hot, open mouth kisses trail down your neck then to your collarbone. The fabric of your top hangs loosely around your shoulder as he starts to suck lightly, eliciting a moan from the sensation. He has to stop himself from leaving a mark, placing another kiss there instead.

He unlatches his lips momentarily to look you in the eyes, already blown full of lust.

“I thought instead of going at it on top of your desk, you deserve a proper bed. A proper fuck.”

His nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your top, moving slowly as he speaks again, savoring the way your body tenses at his movements.

“I want to take my time. Worship you, the way you deserve.” He reaches the last button, pulling it away from your skirt and lets the silk drift open, revealing a lacy black bra underneath. The cooler air hitting your skin makes you shiver slightly.

His hand comes to cradle your jaw. The affection you've come to crave, a foreign concept to you as you melt into his touch.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, the feeling makes your eyes flutter closed. Your teeth graze his thumb pad when he pushes slightly past your lips, before your tongue darts out swirling the tip of his digit, taking him into your mouth and sucking.

He groans out, suddenly pulling away, and wrapping his arms back around you.

“Fuck. My dirty girl.” He grits out, hands reaching the fat of your ass pushing you flush to his hips, his fingers gather the fabric of your skirt in his hands with aching length pressed into your lower stomach. The anticipation was suddenly overwhelming. You needed him like you needed air to breathe.

“Steve,” you manage before he dips down and captures your lips again, as if reading your mind. His palms cup your ass and hoists you up on the counter situated behind you, making you squeak out in surprise as your heels slide from your feet with a thud onto the tile floor below.

You grip his shirt as he shifts forward, wrapping your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up when you grind your hips forward searching for any kind of friction to alleviate the prominent ache between your legs, finding his bulge with ease as you both moan out in unison.

His hands slip your shirt from your shoulders, without breaking your heated kiss, letting it drop to the floor to meet his. His palm finds your breast, kneading your warm, pliant flesh.

You suddenly grip his length through his trousers, making him release a guttural groan that has him pulling back.

“Fuck.” He hisses, forehead coming to meet yours, panting into each other's space. His pause made you momentarily question if you'd done something wrong.

“I wa— no, I need to taste you.” His voice is raspy and lust laden, taking something silver from his pocket that suddenly catches your eye.

“Are you very fond of these tights?” He asks. You realize he's holding a switchblade that pops open with a push of his thumb.

Your answer comes as you part your thighs further for him, rucking your skirt up to your waist as his eyes land on your core.

In one swift motion, he pulls them taut away from your skin and easily slices upward through the thin nylon material.

“And those?” Eyes flitting back up to you just a moment to seek your permission on the next barrier. In this moment, you didn't care if he cut every piece of clothing from your body.

You nod, sucking in a breath when his fingers delicately dip past the band, slipping the blade under and cutting both sides, as it falls away from your soaked pussy.

Closing the blade, he tosses it to the counter beside you as his hands wrap around the plush of your thighs.

“I'll buy you new ones.” He absentmindedly says, eyes glued to your glistening folds, suddenly pulling you toward the edge of the counter as he takes a knee, tossing your left leg over his shoulder.

His free hand pushes your thigh to further accommodate his frame as he finally comes to eye level with his meal, warm breath fanning your exposed core, causing you to shudder.

His name slipped past your lips in a breathy whine.

“I know, angel.” He cooed, eyes catching yours as his thumb and forefinger came to slowly spread your lips open for him. “Look at you, a mess already.”

He leaves you no time to respond, his tongue finding your entrance, the tip entering slightly before licking a broad stripe all the way up to your aching clit. Your hips jolt involuntarily at the sensation his mouth brings, as he moans into your pussy.

He unlatches himself momentarily to check your already blissed out expression. Barely holding yourself up with shaky arms, with your head thrown back.

“Angel, just lay back f’me.” He says, as you look back down toward him, slowly lowering your back to meet the counter. “That's it. We might be here a while, baby. Your arms were already getting tired.”

As soon as you get more comfortable, he pulls your other leg over his shoulder to dive back in. He began by swirling his tongue across your puffy clit, then flicking it, setting a rapid pace that already has your head spinning.

He'd grown as a man, and obviously gained some new skills along the way that suddenly made you feel a pang of jealousy.

You pushed those thoughts from your mind, instead running your fingers through his perfectly quaffed mane, tugging when his tongue slid back down to your entrance.

“O— oh, Steve.”

Darting in and out, his nose brushing your clit with every upward movement, then moving back up, sucking it a little harshly and soothing it with the fluid motion of his expert muscle.

His eyes close for brief moments but he wanted to watch you fall apart.

His lips and tongue focus on your bundle of nerves, easing his finger up to your entrance, swirling and teasing before dipping in gradually to see your reaction.

You moaned out, tugging a little more harshly on his locks.

He pushes his digit into your soaked hole, feeling it clench around him. He quickly adds a second as your back arches off the counter pushing your pussy further into his face, his fingers moving in and out of your tight channel.

He curves them up, stroking, searching for that spot that will have you screaming his name.

“Steve! Right there!” You whine out when he finds it, grinning to himself.

He doesn't stop, watching as your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back against the counter. Your hips grind into his face chasing your high.

Your mouth goes slack, each brush of his fingertips and suckle of his lips sending you closer to the edge. You'd all but forgotten pleasure that an expert lover could bestow until this very moment.

He begins to flick his tongue in time with his fingers thrusting in and out of you, first rapidly from side to side, then up and down.

He wouldn't let up until he made you come, uncaring how hard his cock was straining and aching against the confines of his trousers.

“Ah— Ste— I'm, I—” Your orgasm suddenly hit with a blinding force, unable to get out a coherent thought before your pussy clenched down around his fingers as you began to writhe and moan beneath him. He pins you to the counter with his free hand when your hips begin to rise, making you take everything he was giving you.

He moans into your cunt, your juices leaking out around his fingers, lapping up your arousal with eager need.

He works you through your release, before you have to push his face away, trying to scoot away from the sensitivity of it all.

“Steve, Steve. Stop. I—” You huff out, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.

He grins, lips and chin shining with your release, that he gladly licks away. Your legs fall from his shoulders when he eases back up from the floor draping himself over your body, brushing the hair from your face.

You slowly open your eyes to see him beaming down at you, with a bright smile and shining eyes.

“Hi.” You giggle.

“Hi, angel.” Kissing the tip of your nose, before his lips brush over yours.

You wound your arms around his neck, finding his lips, greedily licking into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

His cock stirs, pinned up against your core, alerting you to his unsatiated desire. His hand finds the back of your neck, as he guides you to sit up gripping your thighs as you wrap them around his waist, locking your ankles at the base of his spine.

He carries you down the small hall to the bedroom, his lips working against yours the entire way, finding the edge of the bed, easing you both down. When your back hits the mattress, you finally detach from him long enough to help pull his undershirt over his head and toss it somewhere across the room.

He sits back, as you unzip the side of your skirt, pushing it down your thighs and tossing it away as well.

The small lamp in the corner provides enough light for your eyes to rove the expanse of his chest and abdomen. A silver chain is nestled in his chest hair, a matching bracelet adorns his left wrist.

A bronzed backdrop for the constellations that were scattered across his body, but he’s littered with a few more scars than you remember.

Steve had never been one for tattoos, but he had one on his bicep, his family crest along with something you couldn't quite make out on the left side of his ribs.

He smiled, looking down to where your eyes had landed, as you tilted your head to gain a better look.

His finger traces the outline of a small bird. A dove, with an olive branch held between its beak.

“I always carried you with me. You're my peace, my purity and everything good in this world. We can't change what we were born into Dove, but we can choose who we love. It's always been you.” Your glossy eyes found his; heart suddenly aching with his admission.

He leans back over you, thumb brushing an errant tear that slipped from your eye.

“I love you. I never stopped loving you, tesoro mio,” He whispers, speaking from his heart.

“I love you, amore mio.” Whispering back, with a sense of relief washing over you. A secret long held, burning you from the inside out, finally speaking it out loud and back into existence once more.

He leans in, kissing you tenderly, less hurried than before, taking every precious moment with you that he can. It's a gift not to be squandered.

He wants nothing more than to take his time and reacquaint himself with your body once more.

He pulls back, as you chase his lips with a whine, but his hands quickly find his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button on his trousers before you halt his movement.

“Let me.” You move to shift to your knees, but instead of helping him from his pants you reach around to unclasp your bra first. The straps ease down your arms as your chest is revealed to him.

He groans, reaching out to close his hand around your breast. You pull your lip between your teeth when his thumb grazes your nipple, sending a spark shooting back down to your core. You lean into his touch, your own fingers finding his zipper and pulling it down.

Your hands push his pants as the pool at his knees on the bed. The tent in his boxers doing nothing to quell your desire that's slowly beginning to build back up. Licking your lips, you grow a little brazen, pushing past his waistband and taking his girthy cock into your hand.

He's hot and heavy, bigger than you remember as you squeeze slightly. He tips his head back with a wanton moan, suddenly pulling your hand away as he slides from the bed. You pout at his abruptness.

“Hang on!” He calls back as he quickly darts out the room, hanging onto his pants to keep them from sliding from his hips.

You let out a small laugh, laying back against the silk covered pillow.

He comes back into view, holding up the box of condoms long forgotten on the kitchen floor, laying them on the nightstand as he comes back over to you.

He swiftly pushes his pants and boxers past his hips, letting them pool at his feet as he steps free of them.

Your eyes drift to where his hand is already wrapped around his cock. He pumps himself a few times, finding the head and smearing his precum down his shaft with a groan.

Finally joining you back on the bed, he situates himself back between your legs. His leg pushes yours further apart as he crawls up to meet you face to face, chest pressed tightly to yours.

He's a weak man. Say the word and he would slide into your dripping cunt without another word but he sees the way your eyes cut to condoms when his dick twitches at your bare core.

Leaning over, he furiously rips the box open and takes one out. He opens the small package, looking at you one more time for confirmation.

“It's just for a little while.” You lament. He nods, rolling it down onto his shaft.

“As you wish, Dove.” Saying as he finishes with the condom, holding himself at the base as he leans back over you, guiding himself to your entrance and stopping.

“Just know this,” his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “I can't wait for the day you beg for me to fuck my cum into this tight, little pussy.”

You gasp, cunt suddenly clenching when his head catches your entrance and breaches just slightly. It takes everything in him not to bury himself completely.

Your legs tighten around his waist at the intrusion, as he slowly cants his hips forward. His thick cock presses slowly into your tight heat. You hadn't been with anyone in a few years, let alone anyone that could ever compare to Steve's size.

“How the hell did we make this work before?” You huffed out, pressing your lips tightly back together with a grimace.

“Hey, it's ok.” He leaned down on his elbow, pressing his body close to yours, trying not to laugh at your pouty expression that he found absolutely adorable.

His fingertips smooth out the lines between your brows from where they were pinched, you melted into his touch, listening to his soothing voice.

“This little pussy just needs to relax.” He said, trying to keep a straight face, as you let out a small giggle.

He felt your muscles loosen slightly, granting him further access letting him push in another inch.

“See, angel. She knows what she wants.” He lifted his torso to look between the two of you. Barely halfway in, but he was trying to restrain himself for you.

You nod, as he pulls himself out and pushes back in. In and out, in and out at a slow but steady rhythm. His cock inching along your channel a little further each time, drawing small gasps and moans from you.

“That's it.” He praises, finally pushing in to the hilt, burying his face in your neck as you wrap your arms back around him.

“Y— you feel so fuckin' good.” He breathes out, pulling almost all the way out, barely leaving his head in.

“Ahhhhhh— fuck!” You cry out when his hips snap forward, plunging back in without any warning punching the air from your lungs at the force.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out, looking down at you.

“Fi— fine. Ju—just keep—mmmm—don’t fucking stop!” You manage out between his steady thrusts.

“There's my girl,” urging your thigh higher on his hip, he grips the headboard for more leverage, suddenly pounding in and out of your tight cunt.

The mix of your moans with skin slapping skin echo around the room. The new angle has him hitting that spot within you over and over as your mind starts to go fuzzy and numb.

Your nails dig into his back, urging him on.

“Fuck, Dove. Mark me. Claim me.” His head tilts back, his silver chain dangling in your face. You grip it, catching his attention as you pull him back down toward you.

“Kiss me, Steve. Please.” Suddenly needing him closer.

He could hear the waver in your voice. There were tears spilling hot over your cheeks, as he heard another soft “please” fall from your lips.

He stills, cupping your jaw, leaning back into your space; his lips meeting yours with tender urgency as they meld together.

Your fingers still grip the chain tightly, your free hand running up the back of his neck, nails scraping at his scalp and toying with the hair there.

You needed tenderness that his lips and touch could provide. A sense of intimacy that you haven't felt with anyone in a long time, not even your own husband.

“Angel, Ca—can I move?” He mumbles breathlessly against you.

You nod, as his thick cock drags out and pushes back in. His heavy balls hitting your ass with his upward thrust.

His hand slides down between the two of you, finding your neglected clit, drawing figure 8s with precision.

“I want you to come with me.” He said, kissing the side of your neck.

“Please.” It seems that's all you could manage. The only word in the forefront of your mind. You didn't know exactly what you were asking for at this point.

“I've got you, baby.” Pecking your lips once more before angling his hips up, and hitting that spot with the head of his cock that has you crying out with reckless abandon.

“St— please, don't stop.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He responds, keeping his pace, staving off his own release to see you fall apart one more time.

His eyes drift across your flushed face, so concentrated with pleasure and pure ecstasy, he couldn't fathom anyone ever denying you when you look like this. But he knows now you're his and no one else deserves to see you like this. No one else will EVER see you like this.

Your pussy fluttered, as your hips meet his next thrust pulling another particularly loud moan from you.

He was so lost looking at you, he momentarily forgot all about himself, solely focusing on giving you what you wanted he barely caught what you'd said before he felt his brain almost short circuit.

“We could ju— mmmmm— just pretend.” You repeated. “I want you to come in me.”

You were babbling at this point, that buzz in your abdomen was getting stronger, pulling you toward another high. Your hips were meeting his with more urgency.

“You’d like that, huh? Having another man’s cum deep inside you.”

Your pussy responded to his words, sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core.

“Oh— St—” but he didn't let up. He could feel you getting close.

"But you're not really his, huh, Dove?” His nose nudges your cheek. “Huh, baby? Look at me.”

You slowly look up at him, his hair a wild mess from your fingers tangling in the chestnut tresses. Those hazel eyes are almost black as they bore into yours. His next words nearly send you over the edge.

“He doesn't deserve this pussy. It's mine.” He stops toying with your clit, instead grinds his hips so his pubic bone grazes it with every upstroke; taking his hand and pulling yours away from his necklace, threading his fingers through yours as they mold together so perfectly.

“Yes! God—yes! Mmph— Steve, it's all yours. I'm all yours!” Clawing at his shoulder, gripping his hand tightly.

“That’s right, angel! You're all mine.”

It felt like the world stopped, a blinding light behind your eyelids and all sound seemed to fade. A hot white heat flooded your core with the most intense orgasm you'd experienced in a long time. With a scream of his name, your back arches off the bed meeting his chest as he continues to rail you into oblivion.

“That's it, make a mess! Cum on my cock—fuck!” He couldn't finish talking you through it when your cunt clamped down around him, it was all over for him. His abdomen tightened, pushing his length as far into your cunt as he could, his head nudging your cervix as he released into the condom, wishing he was filling you full instead.

They always say sex is better with someone you love. Something about him completely surrounding and grounding you was a high, in and of itself, that you couldn't explain.

He finally stills a few moments later, head falling to your chest. You were both sweaty and spent. Your limbs felt like they were entirely boneless but you managed to wrap your arms back around him as he caged you in.

He bared his weight until you coaxed him to lay on top of you, rubbing soft patterns up and down his spine in the quiet afterglow. He snaked his arms under you, burying his head between your breasts.

“Fuck, I love you.” He finally spoke, kissing up your sternum as his eyes met yours.

He didn't want to ask, he wanted to keep you safe and wrapped up in his arms for as long as possible but he knew the inevitability of the situation.

It's as if you knew what he was thinking.

“I can't stay.” You whisper.

“I know, but just a little while longer.” He moves to get up, removing himself from you as you wince, already missing the way he could fill you completely.

“Sorry, tesoro. Stay right here. I'll be right back.” He kisses your cheek, slipping into the bathroom to dispose of the condom before returning to find his boxers and pulling them back over his ass as you gave him an appreciative once over.

“Don't move.” He reiterated, moving into the hall.

You laid there listening to the clinking of china and silverware, a few grumblings and a loud “shit,” that made you giggle and sit up in the bed.

He emerged from the hall carrying two plates loaded with the long forgotten pasta he had made for you.

“There's a robe over there in the drawer for you, in case you don't want to eat in the nude.” He grinned, as you slowly got up and pulled said robe from the dresser. You paused, noticing it was stocked with various other clothes as well.

“If you need them.” He said as you turned back around, tossing the silk over your shoulders as you slipped back in beside him. “This place is fully stocked with whatever you might need.”

“You really are too good to be true, Mr. Harrington.” Saying as he handed you a plate.

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “Eat.” Steering the conversation.

He didn't want to argue the virtue of his morality. He was an outright ruthless asshole when he was outside these walls but you could bring him to his knees with one simple smile.

There would come a time when that conversation would need to be had but he wasn't worried about it right now.

You take a bite and the rich sauce explodes on your taste buds as you hum around the fork, closing your eyes to savor it.

“Oh my God! This is so good!”

He grinned around his own mouthful, thoroughly amused with your response.

“What else is there I don't know about you? Hmmm?” You inquired.

“Oh, I think we'll have plenty of time to catch up, no?” He planted a kiss to your cheek, sitting back against the headboard enjoying the moment, while he still could.

Once you both were both stuffed, he wouldn't let you lift a finger as he took the plates back to the kitchen.

He came to lay next to you as your fingertips traced the tattoo as he fondly recalled the memory of getting it. It wasn’t long after he left, but he was waiting to surprise you. A surprise that had taken a bit longer than he had initially anticipated. He left out the part that the ink had caused numerous arguments with an ex-girlfriend when he wouldn't get it covered for her, ultimately ending the tumultuous relationship.

You had gotten quiet, getting tired as the night was drawing to an all too soon close.

“Steve?” Coming out barely above a whisper.

“Hmmm?” He hummed into the top of your hair.

“I just want you to know what you're getting into. Nik isn't going to just let me go. This— Us.” You couldn't help from tearing up at the thought of returning back to that life like this never happened.

“Dove, don't worry about that. Leave it to me. There are things that are going on that you don't know about. That I don't want you to know.” He tucked you in closer to him, kissing your temple.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” You answered, letting yourself shed a single tear. It was the truth but it still didn't quell the fear bubbling just below the surface.

He held you a little tighter, basking in the way his heart soared. Elated to have you back in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

A little while later he watched you get dressed, sans your underwear and hosiery. That little detail had him grinning again as you blushed.

He'd made a mental note to make sure you had new ones the next time you came by to replace them.

He held your hand as he walked you to the door, reluctantly releasing you after peppering you with another barrage of kisses that had you laughing out, a sound he could easily get lost in.

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at the rarity of your actual name gracing his lips.

You would take the impact of the moment, truly the entire day, with you until you could see him again. Hiding it away and showing it the light of day in secret but his love and affection would keep you going until you could finally show the entire world that he was yours once again.

Taglist: @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @bunnyhargrove @taccobelle @madaboutjoe

Want to be added? Just let me know!

[the-writer-arrived]

Who... are you?

Synopsis: oh no! you got into an accident and now you don't recognize him. Will he tell you he is your lover? Or will he keep it a secret?

Characters: diluc ragnvindr; zhongli; alhaitham.

Warnings: gender neutral!reader; angst (i guess?? but not fluff either?? smth in between); not exactly hurt/no comfort, but whether you regain your memories of him or not will be up to your imagination :3

A/N: i can't believe my first fic is already past 2k notes what the hell 😭 thank you all so much!

When news reached him that you got hurt, he dropped everything that he was doing to find you at the Favonius Cathedral.

He is so incredibly relieved to see you awake, to see you alive.

However, his relief is short lived when you utter those three words...

"Who... are you?"

You... must be joking, right? You've always loved to play pranks on him to see him flustered or exasperated with your cute antics.

Please, for the love of Barbatos, please be joking...

But when Barbara says his name and the look of recognition doesn't appear on your confused expression, his heart falls to pit of his stomach.

You... forgot him? But how? Why?! Who--

No... No, none of this matters right now.

With a forced smile, he introduces himself.

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. You may not remember, but I'm your... friend."

He's thankful for Rosaria stopping Barbara from saying the truth.

He doesn't like having to lie to you, but he convinces himself it's for your own good.

Diluc feels so guilty for putting you in danger. It doesn't matter if your accident was simply an unfortunate situation or a premeditated attack towards you.

He has an inkling that it's probably the second option, knowing how many enemies he has...

How many more innocent people will have to get hurt, for him to understand he has to stop allowing others to get close to him? That he is just like his pyro vision, a flame too bright that burns everything it touches?

After he takes you to your previous house, Diluc goes straight into investigating the circumstances of your accident.

Even going as far as to ask for Kaeya's assistance, just to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible, so he can assure your safety.

Going back home isn't the same anymore. The mansion doesn't feel like home anymore, not without your presence there.

You've gone back to when you didn't know him, but he can't do the same.

How could he, after experiencing something so sweet, so soft and perfect like your love?

Diluc's longing for you is nearly painful for his heart, to see you so close yet so far away...

...But he also can't bring himself to get out of your life completely and alleviate his suffering.

So, he settles on having pleasant but painfully platonic conversations with you as Diluc Ragnvindr, and protecting you as the Darknight Hero (the title you loved to utter just to tease him).

"...Maybe we were never meant to be, my love."

Xiao was the one who told Zhongli about you getting hurt.

The Vigilant Yaksha was doing his usual patrols, clearing out monsters and other evil spirits, when he spotted your unconscious form.

Dread filled his veins, fearing for the worst, but the thumping sound of your heartbeat inside your chest told Xiao you haven't departed from this world.

So, he took you to Wangshu Inn, asking Verr Goldet and Huai'an to call a doctor, before he went to find his old master.

Zhongli reassures Xiao that he shouldn't blame himself for what had happened to you and that he's extremely grateful to the young adeptus from taking you to safety.

The two enter the bedroom Xiao had left you to find you looking a bit disoriented, but awake.

"Xiao, there you are! I wan-- Oh? Who's that next to you..?"

The expressions on their faces would be considered comical, if the situation weren't so severe...

In all his 6000 years of living, there weren't many situations that has rendered the Lord of Geo speechless like he is right now...

No, he isn't an archon anymore, he is Zhongli, a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, a mortal just like many others now.

And, as Zhongli, he's had his fair share of unexpected moments that has left him at a loss.

Especially when it comes to Director Hu's way of advertising their services...

But with you, Zhongli always had something to say: a piece of knowledge about the simplest of objects, an ancient tale from the begginning of time, a declaration of love he never tires of repeating to you...

So, to have him not knowing what to say is certainly a feat although not one you would be proud of, if you were aware..

Even so, the ex-archon doesn't let that affect him for too long.

"Greetings, my dear. It seems that your memories are a bit hazy, so allow me to remind you. I am Zhongli, your lover."

After your initial shock and bewilderment of having such a hot and sophisticated man claim that he's your lover at the information the tall man shared, your doubts are eased when Xiao confirms everything that was said.

If your adeptus friend, who isn't known for his fondness of humans, is standing by this man's words with such certainty, then this Zhongli must be telling the truth...

For a being that has being alive for a millenia, Zhongli always considered the passage of time to be something hard to keep track of.

In fact, that was one of the many challenges he had to face while adapting to the ways of the humans: he would blink and the newborn child of the couple he had seen the other day is already an elderly person.

This time, however, he feels that the time must be dragging its feet just to mess with him.

Each day that passes without your memories of him returning to you makes Zhongli restless...

He can't help but be reminded of that wretched thing called erosion...

The thought of you, his dear beloved, slowly forgetting everything and everyone precious to you... To become a shell of your self and to be plagued by anger and pain... He won't be able to bear to witness this happen again.

He knows humans age at a much faster pace than him, he knows that you won't be next to him forever like he so dearly wishes... But it's not time yet.

He still has time to hold you in his arms, to enjoy your affection, to marvel at your existence.

And Zhongli will not let anything get in the way of his happy years with you, not a temporary memory loss nor the erosion itself.

"Oh, you wish to know the story behind this object? I gifted it to you on our fifth date. Don't make that sad face, my dear, you're still in the process of recovery. I will gladly tell you about that day in great detail."

Usually, when someone receives news that their lover was found unconscious and is currently being taken care of at the Bimarstan, people expect to see them rushing to be at their beloved's side.

But Alhaitham takes the news with his usual straight face and leaves the Akademiya at an almost leisurely pace.

The Scribe is wildly known by his near excessive rationality that drives his behavior 99% of the time.

Therefore, it would be quite out of character for him to make a huge fuss like the matra who gave him the news expected. After all, letting your emotions take control at a moment of crisis doesn't help anyone.

That is what Alhaitham repeats to himself like a mantra while he makes his way to the hospital, his steps a bit quicker than usual, his eyebrows slightly more furrowed.

Has the Bimarstan always been so far from the Akademiya?

After finally reaching his destination, his eyes find you right away, laid in bed with a few scrapes and your head bandaged.

The doctor explains to him you don't have any grave injury, but, considering you hit your head, they can only be sure after examining you again after you wake up.

Alhaitham sits down on the chair next to your bed and opens his trusty book while he waits for you.

Unless they are either shameless or brave to stare at his face for a long time, no one notices that he's barely paying attention to the words written in the book. His eyes frequently switch to your sleeping form, before going back to the same paragraph he's been reading for the past thirty minutes.

The anxious Scribe is quick to notice the slight twitch of your eyelids and change of your breathing, signs that you are slowly awaking.

"Ah, finally decided to wake up? I was begginning to think that you find the Bimarstan's bed more comfortable than ours. If so, you truly have poor taste in furniture."

The tiny smile he has on his lips vanishes when, instead of your usual eye roll and smile peeking at the corner of your mouth, you frown at his teasing.

"First of all, rude. And second, who even are you to casually offend my taste in furniture? You don't even know me!"

...Of course things wouldn't be so simple.

Turns out that your head injury affected your memories, more specifically, the ones about Alhaitham.

The doctor said that it should be a temporary thing, even so how troublesome...

Even more troublesome is the fact that Alhaitham had to get Tighnari, Cyno and even Kaveh to convince you that he isn't lying when he says that he is your lover!

He supposes it's a good thing you have a sense of self-preservation and don't blindly trust everything that people say...

Still, it kind of hurt seeing you so skeptical at the idea of you two being in a relationship.

After bringing you home, he is quick to do and adapt his routine to make you as comfortable around him as possible during your recovery.

You feel awkward sleeping on the same bed as him? No problem, he'll take the couch for the time being.

You have a headache? Here's your medicine. Don't worry, it doesn't have the bitter taste that you hate.

But, no matter how much he tries to avoid that, there are moments when his old habits slip up and make things a bit awkward.

Like when he wrapped his arms around you from behind while half-asleep, causing you to flinch or when he leaned to give you a goodbye kiss before going to work and you leaned away in embarrasment.

While with you, Alhaitham never makes a single complaint or shows his frustration about this complex situation, none of this is your fault and he can see you working hard to remember him.

Away from you, though... He has never been more grumpy than before. Snarky comments at anyone who utters a single dumb thing (in other words, all the time), butting heads with Kaveh even more frequently and more distant than ever.

Alhaitham doesn't necessarily hate when unexpected things occur. Sometimes they brings good things, like you, in his life.

However, this situation is definitely something that brought nothing but headache for you both.

He can't keep on living without waking up with you in his arms, without your kisses, your banters... You made him addicted to you and now he's suffering from withdrawal symptoms.

He doesn't like the term "memory loss" for your current condition, because it implies your memories of him are lost forever, which they are not. They are simply misplaced in your mind, and he will do everything to help you find them again.

"Hm? Why am I following you around like a lost puppy? You misunderstand, I am simply testing my theory that if I spend more time with you, there is a higher chance for you to remember me more quickly. What about my work? The Akademiya can survive a few days without me. Besides, I have a much more important matter to focus on right now."

[otteranha]

Eddie’s trying not to beg Steve to stay. Harrington’s already gone above and beyond for him, he deserves a night to sleep in his own bed. But God, does it have to be now? No one will talk about it except to pat his hand and tell him with tight lipped smiles that there’s nothing to worry about- legally the mob can’t do anything. Eddie’s been declared innocent, a tragic victim of the copycat killer.

It doesn’t change the fact that there’s been a group of people standing vigil outside the hospital since he got there. It doesn’t change the fact that the group has been growing in numbers until all of Hawkins seems to either be fleeing in desperation or taking up camp four floors below the room where Eddie lies unable to walk as far as the bathroom without help. It doesn’t change the energy of the mob, steadily humming louder, faster, with the intensity of a hive about to swarm.

“Should have known he’d be hightailing it when trouble came,” Wayne tells him. He’s furious on Eddie’s behalf that Steve would leave now, when the police protection detail has been declared no longer necessary. When the mob below is bigger than ever and angry enough that Eddie can feel it all the way up here.

“He didn’t want to go, he needs to sleep.” Eddie saw how badly Steve wanted to stay, how he was sweating and jaundiced and worse looking than he had since that first fight with the demobats. Steve needed to go home, deserved to go home. But part of Eddie, most of Eddie, wails inside for Steve not to leave him. Not tonight, please not tonight. He’d tried not to let Steve see it, doubted how well his subterfuge had worked.

“I wish I could stay but I just can’t, not tonight. I’m so sorry. But I promise- Anything goes wrong Eds, I’ll be here. I have to go now but if anyone needs me, if you need me, I’ll be here, I swear it.” He’d done a strange thing then, pressing Eddie’s hand to his brow before kissing the back of it like something out of one of the tales of courtly love Eddie had devoured as an Arthurian-legend obsessed kid. And then Steve was leaving. It was almost nightfall. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Eddie, his face anguished.

True to form, Eddie rallied. “Go on, and don’t worry about lil’ old me. I’ll be fine.”

The mob waits until just after midnight, then comes for him. They drag him from his bed, and Eddie has an insane thought apt to this insane situation that he’s glad he wore sweatpants under his hospital johnny so at least he’s not going to die bare-assed in front of the remaining population of Hawkins. Or maybe he jinxed himself by assuming the worst when he decided to wear them that night.

He sees the kids being held back by their parents, screaming for him as he’s hauled to the elevator, hopes desperately that Claudia and Karen and Sue and Charles will be strong enough to restrain them. The kids aren’t babies anymore; they’re tough and too used to fighting to protect their own. But this isn’t a fight they can win and he prays that parent-adrenaline will be enough let them wrangle his stupid, brave friends away from his side. He couldn’t keep Wayne away, they’d shouted at each other, all terrified love, him trying to make Wayne go, until the moment the door broke down and he was being dragged, his uncle’s grip still white-knuckled on Eddie’s wrist hard enough to bruise.

Everyone is shouting, himself included. He’s pleading his innocence, swearing he never hurt Chrissy. Until he sees the pyre and all the words evaporate inside him and he’s just screaming. They’re jeering at his tears, his terror. Calling him killer, devil-worshipper, Satan himself and worse. And then- something in the atmosphere shifts.

Eddie doesn’t see why the mob’s screaming changes, he’s hypnotized by the pyre. Do I weigh more than a duck? He thinks. You can’t burn me if I weigh more than a duck and then oh I’m hysterical.

“Get away! Get away from it!” They sound higher pitched now, a note of vibrato in the clamor. The shift in his captors’ tenor finally seeps in and Eddie looks around. The number of people buffeting him to a hideous end is shrinking, people peeling off and running. He can hear gunshots and then-

Snarling. Crunching sounds. Someone- something roaring into the night. It’s just the men holding Eddie now, Carver’s crew mostly. Wayne’s run up beside them and they don’t spare him a glance as he wrenches Eddie away from them. There’s a wolf. Massive, tawny, scarred, absolutely furious- lunging for them, slashing them with razor sharp claws until none of them are left standing. When the last of the mob is gone the wolf pads close and presses against Eddie’s side with a whine.

The kids come sprinting to him. “Jesus Christ, Steve! Well now they’re definitely going to think Eddie’s the lord of evil!” says Mike.

Eddie looks down at the wolf. He still feels like he might have a heart attack any minute, but the warm, soft fur is grounding. Steve Harrington looks up at him under the light of the full moon and wags his tail.

[to-the-stars8]

Vigilant Coffee

Batfamily x Reader Chapters AO3

21-Vacation

If anyone ever asked you if the toxic water and/or air of Gotham had any effect on you, you would say no. You were about as normal as any other person you came across in your day-to-day life. That was until you realized you were starting to understand what Kite Man was saying about how cool kites were. Maybe, you thought, you needed a vacation far, far away from this city. 

“Random question,” You said halfway into his tirade. “Have you ever left Gotham?”

“No, why?”

You weren’t surprised. “Nothing. Go on.”

That morning, you put in a request for a week’s vacation. 

And, your trip was wonderful. For the first time in a long, long while, you breathed in fresh air and walked around without the worry of being robbed. Despite the freedom, you felt a sense of longing for your drab city. There was something about Gotham that was intoxicating, and it wasn’t just the water. It was the rush of never-ending life, the kindness felt by the locals despite being dealt the worst hand imaginable, and, most importantly, the vigilantes. 

So, as you tied your apron on for your regular night shift, you felt a sense of excitement to see your vigilante friends again. The night was normal until two AM rolled around and Red Robin along with Robin strolled in. 

“Oh, thank God you’re back,” Red Robin said. “Where have you been?”

Robin leaned up on his tiptoes to look over the counter. “Your replacement was terrible, and kept asking questions.”

“I was on vacation, and that’s not very nice,” You said. “You guys aren’t exactly normal customers.”

Red Robin scoffed. “He wasn’t asking questions about us. He was asking how to make the drink.”

“What?” You laughed. “No way.”

“Very much way,” Robin said as he reached up for one of the wrapped cookies. 

They told you about how the barista, who must have been straight out of training, was running around like a chicken blindsided and with its head cut off. The poor guy didn’t know he’d be dealing with the superheroes or vigilantes, so that must have made him forget any training. 

“Oh, go easy on him,” You said as you gave Robin his hot chocolate. “I was freaked out when you guys first got here.”

“I guess, but it’s nice to see a familiar face,” Red Robin said, mumbling the last part. “Especially, not one that’s trying to kill you.”

You smiled, your heart touched. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that any time soon. Not less you catch me on a really bad day.”

The two boys smiled at you. You were grateful for your vacation, but, damn it, if you didn’t miss those masked faces.

[ghoulisheous]

I love OP eldritch horror Danny as much as anyone. But I gotta say, in over his head Danny who's absolutely batshit feral in a fight and wins his battles by the skin of his teeth holds a special place in my heart.

Cause he didn't ask for any of this. He didn't ask for powers that have backfired on him almost as much as anyone else. And at this point in his life he's been beaten down, only to get back up and spit in someone's eye so many times he could write three autobiographies about it. And he did it all as a scrawny highschooler. No team of heroes with funding and training to rely on. No mentor to tell him how to do things.

Danny and co are the ultimate McGuyver squad/ductape saves the day type of superheroes.

And he's been blindsided and attacked at every turn almost since day one. In his school. In his home. Any second a seemingly average day could go south. He never really knows when it'll happen next. He maintains any kind of leverage only through constant vigilance and a stubborn refusal to stay down when he's knocked down. Not to mention very painful first hand experience.

And that there's Emotional Damage.

I wanna see a fic where Danny's paranoia and talent for DlY are his greatest achievements and most devastating weaknesses. I wanna read all the fics where Danny is a distrusting gremlin who will absolutely bite a motherfucker and latch on long after he tastes the blood before he ever admits defeat. Because for god's sake the one and only time this kid ever saw an actual therapist who isn't his unlicensed teenage sister the woman turned out to be a soul-sucking demon who manipulates the worst out of her clients because she literally feeds off misery.

He got his start in heroics with no training, with his friends by his side. And you could argue that Maddie could train Danny in martial arts cause she definitely has that skill set. But... Danny is her youngest. And while I haven't seen the show for a while. I do remember her babying him a whole hell of a lot. So there is a part of me that believes that would be a significant hurdle for her to overcome before she would actually train her youngest in anything. Not that she believes she has a reason to train him in the first place. The next hurdle.

Ergo, Danny who learned to fight by being beaten down with no mercy. So he fights dirty and unrefined and bloody when he can't manage to keep his distance and fight long-range. He bites, yanks at hair, shoves his thumbs in eye sockets if he can't grab a fistful of dirt. And then throws an ectoblast just to make sure he got his point across.

I wanna see a Danny who's only survived his own recklessness out of sheer will power and SPITE.

And then shove him into the DC universe.

[cod-dump]

Been having an absolute shit week and all I've been thinking about is Laswell hugging me and saying how proud she is and how brave I've been

So now apply that to her boys and you get mega angst/comfort

"Just want to be good enough" John 'Soap' MacTavish distraught after a mission gone wrong when it could have been avoided easily

"Young enough to still be learning some of the worst parts of his career" Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick having a really bad panic attack after witnessing something truly horrendous/maybe having survived several days of torture

"May have been through literal hell and back but by god does he care about those stupid sergeants and one of them got hurt and he should have been better, he should be perfect" Simon 'Ghost' Riley falling to pieces the second Laswell gets a moment alone with him outside of medbay where one of the sergeants just got out of surgery (he's been waiting there for hours, unmoving and vigilant)

"Those boys depend on me and I let them down, and now one of them is hurt and I'm the one responsible" Captain John Price finally being coaxed into sitting in his chair and letting it out after having paced for hours

Kate Laswell making sure they all remember that they're the 141 for a fucking reason. That they're the best out there, but that they're still very much so human. And that human means flawed, and that there are things well beyond their control.

She reminds them that if they didn't care so damn much it wouldn't hurt so bad, but it's good that it hurts because it means they care. And it's because they care that the injured one made it out alive with an injury that isn't even fatal, not even close to it unless some crazy infection took place and even then it's still damn near impossible.

Just Laswell being MomFriend and holding each of them when they need it most and telling them that she's proud and that they've been really brave, but it's time to rest. It's gonna be okay.

They're her boys, they'll always be okay.

Laswell doesn’t have kids, never planned on having any. But here she is, four grown men that she babysits. She does love them, they need that love. So many times she has held Ghost after a nightmare, calmed Soap down after a bad mission or talked Gaz down from the ledge. They need that love, desperately. Price is the hardest to get to admit it. He doesn’t want to admit he can’t fix everything, that he can’t make their pain go away. Sometimes he just needs to be held like the rest. Some nights Laswell ushers the four into the lounge and the have a sleepover. And, every time, she wakes up surrounded, each man sleeping peacefully. She never thought about having kids, but she has them. And she will kill for them.