#NOW YOU CANNOT LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME

[seresinhangmanjake]

Overprotective

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

Summary: Your son is due to be born any day now and Feyd is very protective. He kills anyone who so much as lays a finger on you, but it’s gotten out of control. 

Notes: this was an anon request. same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. *can be read alone*

Warnings: mention of murder and pregnancy. 

Words: 1100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

“You’re mad,” Feyd says, his smile dropping at the sight of your frown. Your arms are crossed over your swollen belly as you lean back against the headboard of your bed. He closes the door behind him. “Why are you mad?”

You roll your eyes. He knows exactly why you’re mad. By your count, you’ve been pissed at him twenty-three times in the past month and a half and you don’t care for your widely-known highly-intelligent husband playing naive. “Don’t act like you don’t know. We only ever fight about one thing, Feyd. One.” 

Feyd sighs and steps closer to the mattress, but when you put your hand up, he stops in his tracks. Your throat strains as you swallow your grin. You still get little flutters in your belly when he demonstrates how you have that kind of power over him, but you cannot let him see the satisfaction on your face now. If he sees you smile, he will smile, which means you will have lost because he’ll know he’s won, and when he wins he gets turned on, so then you’ll get turned on, and then you’ll end up fucking. But you cannot be fucking right now. He needs to learn a lesson. His hard dick in his wife’s warm pussy will not achieve any lesson-learning. If anything, it will encourage his bad behavior. 

“You killed another one,” you tell him, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed; though that’s far from surprising.

Feyd crosses his arms over his broad chest. “He touched you.”

“I tripped.”

“And then he touched you.”

“He caught me.”

“So you agree,” Feyd says with a sharp nod. “I’m glad we are on the same page.”

Your huff descends into a groan as the heels of your palms press against your closed eyelids. “Your wife—your heavily pregnant wife—would’ve fallen on her ass if he hadn’t.”

“He shouldn’t have let you trip in the first place,” Feyd tells you. “He was meant to ensure you have a clear and safe walking path.”

Your lips part, mouth opening and closing and opening again as you search for a response. However, you end up with the same one you always do: “You are unbelievable,” you reply, shaking your head. “Twenty-three servants, Feyd! It has surpassed extremes! You killed one for brushing my hair–”

“Touching—and she was pulling on it too hard.”

“You killed one for helping me dress in the morning when you had already been called away for a meeting.”

“I prefer you naked anyway,” he says, shrugging, a smug grin stretching across his face. “Naked and in this bed.”

You raise a brow. “And the one who helped me sit down so I could watch you in the arena?”

“Ah, that one—” Feyd waves his finger as he clicks his tongue “—that one thought I wouldn’t notice because you were so high up in the stands. I don’t like sneaky people,” he reminds you, though you’re plenty aware of how he handles deception and trickery. “You should have told me you planned to attend and I would’ve helped you well before it started.”

Ignoring his point, you retort, “You cannot keep killing everyone.”

Feyd groans. “My love, you’re in too delicate a state,” he says. “I gathered all of them together not two months ago and explicitly forbade them from laying a finger on you. It is not my fault if they break the rules. And what sort of Baron am I if I do not enforce punishment?”

You hum in dissatisfaction. “You do understand you put me and your child in more danger by not permitting their assistance?”

Immediately, his brow pinches. His head turns to look away from you and when his jaw clenches, you realize the weight of your mistake. A sickening feeling settles in your gut. Your face falls from frustration into total devastation. “Oh God, Feyd…”

“I do not put you in danger,” he says, and it’s so shockingly meek that your heart cracks right down the middle. Not once in almost two years have you heard that tone leave his mouth, and you think maybe his eyes have become glassy, but you’re praying it’s a trick of the low lighting in your bedroom. Feyd has never cried in front of you, if he's ever cried at all, and you hope you didn’t just unfairly yank that vulnerability out of him. 

“I’m so sorry. That isn't what I meant,” you whisper, sinking into your shame. You know it’s such a sensitive topic for him and you spoke without thinking. You reach your hand toward him. “Come here….please.”

Feyd stares at you for a long moment, but then he sighs through his nose and walks over to sit at your side atop the mattress. No tears—your breath shudders in relief. One hand grasps his and your lips brush his knuckles. The other cups his cheek as you guide his forehead to rest on yours. 

“You protect me,” you swear to him. “No one could ever keep me safe the way you do, and I know that's all you want, but our son is coming soon. We will need help. I can’t birth this baby without a doctor and that doctor will have to touch me. Me and our son.”

The heat of Feyd's heavy breath warms your face. You wait for his response but he doesn’t have one, and instead, he shifts to lie down. You adjust your body until you’re flat on the mattress beside him. “Sometimes,” he starts as he rubs his palm over your stomach, “I have dreams about the three of us living elsewhere. Everyone is forced to leave us alone and all we have to care about is each other and our child.”

Feyd kisses your exposed shoulder, and in that moment, you’re reminded of how different he has become. He’s transformed from someone whose sole ambition was to be the Baron—a man driven to control this planet and have the people of Giedi Prime bow to him; a man who sought destruction and pain and power—to a man who secretly craves a bit of peace for his family. Though no one other than yourself sees this side of him, it’s hard to watch him tackle that burden, especially when you know you’re the responsible party. 

“What have I done to you, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?” you mutter as you press your lips to his forehead. 

He chuckles lowly and hugs you into his body. “You turned me soft.”

“You kill servants without batting an eye.”

“Fine,” he relents. “As soft as I’m capable of being.”

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14

Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them. 

He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them. 

Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this. 

Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves. 

They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.

They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air. 

But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence. 

Jason had been terrified. 

And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working. 

It had nearly cost him his life. 

He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together. 

Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug. 

Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.

Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.” Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything. 

“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.

Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.

“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him. 

Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right. 

Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back. 

He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly. 

“You have to leave Ghost to me.”

“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess. 

“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.” 

He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce. 

“Dad, please…” He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days. 

Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight. 

He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings. 

Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks. 

In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.

-

I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.

I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts.

[steddiecameraroll]

“Ugh, I wanna eat his ass.”

“What?”

Oh shit, Eddie said that thought out loud. He slowly turns his head to see the one and only Max Mayfield staring wide-eyed and horrified at him.

“You didn’t hear me say that.” Eddie leans over and whispers desperately. “That was an inside thought that I accidentally had outside. Pretend you heard nothing.”

“Um, no?” She shrugs like Eddie just asked her to do the most ridiculous thing ever.

Which he supposes he did, but come on this is like a code red level secret here. Eddie needs her to keep her mouth shut. Otherwise, repeating his inside thoughts to the wrong person could either get him a fist in the face or lose the ability to even spend time here at Harrington’s place. Let alone ogle him.

“Come on, Red. You gotta do this one thing for me.” Eddie spins on his butt, planting his feet firmly on the warm deck beside his lounger. “You cannot tell anyone I just said that.”

He must look crazed right now because a small twitch of Max’s eye tells him she’s considering his plea.

“Please, I will do anything. Anything. Name it, and I’ll do it.” He digs his fingers into his thighs.

“Anything?” She asks with a smirk.

Eddie is suddenly terrified.

Eddie drops an extra order of fries in front of Max before sliding into the booth across from her. He’s been buying her food for weeks now, and Steve doesn’t know if this is some hostage situation or if Eddie suddenly feels generous.

Steve watches the two of them trying to deduce what’s going on, but they’re not giving anything away.

"Why do you keep buying her food? Actually," Steve turns his attention to Max. "Why do you keep making him buy you food?"

Max's eyes flick to Eddie where she gives him a wicked smirk. Steve furrows his brows and turns to get a better look at Eddie. Yeah, this is a hostage situation if he's ever seen one.

"Spill it."

"It's nothing," Eddie avoids making eye contact.

"That's not even remotely true. What are you blackmailing him with?" Steve points a finger across the table at Max who shrugs innocently.

"You'd have to ask Eddie what I know and he doesn't want you to know."

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up his forehead and he stares at her wide-eyed and shocked. Interesting, so Max knows something big enough that Eddie is kind of freaking out about the idea of Steve finding out.

That's, yeah, interesting.

"What is it?" Steve leans in and lowers his voice.

"It's nothing!" Eddie says a little too loudly. "Nothing, nothing. She doesn't know anything. Do you Red?" Eddie tries to speak silently with very obvious eye contact which only illicits a chuckle from Max.

She's as cool as a cucumber, sitting across from them munching on her bribery fries.

"You're lying, and it's probably not even that big of a deal. I mean, how bad could it be?" Eddie's clearly worked up and it's bothering Steve's nerves. "Come on, what is it?"

Max smiles wide, "Eddie has a crush on someone."

"Max!" Steve feels Eddie's leg shoot out and attempt to kick the girl.

"Shit, man. Why is this such a coveted secret? Who cares? Is it super embarassing or something? Y'know, Robin had a crush on T- um, someone super embarassing and it wasn't a big deal. We joke about it now." Steve nudges Eddie's shoulder, egging the man on. "Who is it?"

"No one," Eddie picks up his burger and takes an obnoxiously large bite.

Steve glances at Max who's biting back a laugh. She leans back in the booth with a sigh, and gives him another shrug.

Clearly Eddie's embarassed because Max is here. He knows he would tell Steve otherwise. They tell each other everything. Eddie knows Steve kissed Tommy freshman year of high school. There's nothing that could be more embarassing than that. Maybe he can coax it out of him later tonight when they hang out.

"What was that thing with Max today at lunch?" Steve asks while passing the joint back over to Eddie.

They're laying across the top of a picnic table at the apartment complex of Eddie's new place. The smoke from the joint is fading up into the night sky.

"What are you talking about?" Eddie's voice sounds tighter than it was five seconds ago.

"The secret thing. You know you can't let her do this to you. It's only going to escalate. She's too smart to keep it at free food, man."

"Fuck," Eddie exhales. "You're right."

"So? What is it?"

Eddie drops his hands to his side in what looks like defeat. Steve leans up and plucks the joint from his fingers, before laying back down. Eddie's foot starts to bounce slightly, like he's working through the consequences of sharing.

"You know what?" Eddie pushes himself up to sit upright next to Steve. "It's you."

Steve chokes a little on the smoke he was holding in his mouth, then twists to look up at the metalhead sitting above him.

"What?" He doesn't understand.

"It's you. Max overheard me say something out loud that I did not mean to say out loud and well, I didn't really want you to know, so she promised to keep her mouth shut if I bought her food. Whatever food she wanted. Whenever she wanted it."

Steve's brain is slowly parsing through what Eddie just admitted. His mouth is slightly open as he stares up at the man, because that wasn't what he was expecting.

"Me?" He questions.

"Uh, yeah? But don't worry about it. So, ok, she can't black mail me anymore. Fuck, ok. We're good right? I don't expect anything from you, nothing changes. It's not a big deal. I'm sorry, shit, I guess you'd decide if it wasn't a big deal. Crap!" He exclaims then pushes himself off the picnic table.

Steve rolls up to lean back on his palms, watching Eddie pace back and forth. He kind of reminds Steve of a caged animal.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. It was only junk food." Eddie murmurs to himself.

"Eddie?"

"Fuck," Eddie skids to a stop and stares at Steve with wide eyes. "If you want to punch me, you can. I won't even move. Ok, I might flinch out of normal reaction, but I will try and stand still."

"What?" Steve chuckles.

"Punch me? Do you want to kick me instead?"

"No," Steve exhales. "I don't want to do anything to you. I think I'm trying to figure something out right now. Sit down." He pats the wood to his side.

Eddie nervously steps onto the bench, and then slides back into place beside Steve. Steve pokes the exposed skin of Eddie's knee through his ripped jeans.

"Do you cut them like this or do they wear through?"

"What?" Eddie leans forward.

"Your jeans."

"I just- dude, I have a crush on you?" Irritation bubbles from Eddie's tone.

"Yeah?" Steve shrugs.

"And your ok with this?"

Steve nods. "I might- I might have one on you too. Still figuring that out."

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I have to talk to Rob. She probably already knows."

Eddie's eyes dart all over Steve's face like he's looking for the lie. Steve nudges Eddie's knee, and raises his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Would that be ok? If I had a crush on you too?"

"Would that be ok, he asks. Dude, it would've been nice to know this weeks ago. Do you know how much money I wasted on Max's extortion?"

Steve can't stop the smile and warmth of fondness he's feeling for this exasperated man.

"Ok, I figured it out." He nods. "I do."

"You do what?" Eddie throws his hands up.

"I have a crush on you. This is really cute and strangely doing something for me." Eddie's eyes go buggy and Steve's never noticed how much he looks like a cartoon character before. It's cute. "Let's finish this joint and then make out a little bit. What do you say?"

"Jesus, uh," Eddie fumbles. "Y-yeah, uh huh, ok. I could- we could do that."

"Great," Steve motions to the tabletop. "Lay down."

Eddie scrambles to flop down next to Steve, they're closer than they were before the start of this conversation. Steve smiles to himself, and reaches his pinky across the space between them, and hooks onto Eddie's.

"Oh, by the way, what did Max hear you say?"

"Uh, well?" Eddie takes a deep breath. "I kinda said I wanted to eat your ass."

Steve can't stop the laugh that bubbles from his chest. "Yep, that'll do it."

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[kymerawrites]

How much it hurt standing right there, on the balcony of his two-story house, the thought of him getting married to another woman tomorrow was making your heart bleed. You leaned against the railing with a frown on your face, a glass of champagne in your hand and your eyes throwing daggers at the moon. Simon decided to invite all Task Force 141 for a drink the night before the big day, you could hear them all laughing and cheering downstairs in the living room, but you couldn’t even put a small smile on your lips.

You loved him and he loved you back, you thought things could still work between the two of you, he thought differently. He didn’t know how to show his love, his care, it hurt you and he knew it perfectly, that’s why he decided to break things off with you. And now? After one year you still haven’t moved on and now he was going to marry another woman. You heard someone clear his voice and immediately turned around, Simon was there with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes staring deeply at yours, “shym.. Why are you here alone?” He asked, his tone holding a little sadness.

You let out a scoff before turning your gaze down towards the garden, watching a couple of butterflies landing perfectly on the grass, “because I’d rather not be around for this,” you muttered, the grip on your glass of champagne tightening. He sighed and walked closer to you, joining you in standing against the railing of the balcony and keeping a respectful distance.

“You’re invited, why would you not want to be here?” He asked with a raised eyebrow before letting his gaze drop on you. You rolled your eyes and drank half of the liquid from your glass before replying, “Because I don’t want to watch my ex-boyfriend getting married to another woman.” You murmured with bitterness in your tone.

“Even though we’re still colleagues, I cannot just act like I don’t care Simon..” I took a big chug of my wine before looking down to the grass

His eyes softened as he realized how you truly felt about the situation, he could blame nobody but himself. He was the stupid one. He let out another heavy sigh and leaned against the railing, his shoulders dropping and his body slightly falling forward, as if a weight was on his shoulders, “I know-“ he paused and closed his eyes before continuing, “but the decision has been taken.”

“Why mia… why her Simon what was so special about her that overshadowed me?”

“You want me to tell you why did I choose her?” He asked and you could just hear how tired and frustrated his voice was. You turned your head to look at him and saw how tired he looked, probably tired from hearing the same question for the past few weeks after he told you that he was going to marry her and not you, “yes,” you said in a stern voice, “why her and not me?”

Simon thought for a split second “Mia, she was someone who saved my life, kept me company while I was almost dying on that battlefield..and we just fell for eachother, I couldn’t let that eat me up.”

Your heart dropped as Simon spoke, he fell for her while you were waiting for him here. You felt a pang of jealousy and anger towards her just from hearing the words leaving his mouth. You turned your body fully towards him and narrowed your eyes at his face.

“You fell for her on the battlefield?” You asked in disbelief, “while I was here waiting and worrying for you?”

He slowly nodded his head. “You don’t understand, she kept me company while I was in my lowest point during those days on the battlefield, I-“ he paused and licked his lips as he remembered those days where he didn’t give a damn if he lived or died and he was close to death so many times, yet Mia was there, taking care of him and talking to him as he just laid there, unable to speak or move.

Your eyes widened in shock and slight anger. “You don’t think I understood that?” You exclaimed, “Simon I was there for you too, I was texting you, calling you, worrying about your state every night!” You paused as you felt your eyes starting to heat “I was praying that you’d come back safely, that you’d come back home to me, but-“ you bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath as you tried not to yell at him, “but no- Instead you fell in love with another woman.”

He could basically hear your voice breaking as you spoke and his heart ached every second. “I know-“ he tried to speak up, but you didn’t let him, the last drop of rage finally hit you and you snapped at him.

“You know? Then why!? Why didn’t you choose me? Didn’t you love me like you love her!? Didn’t you care for me like you care for her!?” You yelled at him, not being able to hold your emotions back now.

“Of course I did! You know I did!“ He yelled back as he lifted his head and clenched his jaw, his hazel eyes staring deeply into yours. You looked straight into his eyes and felt a tear run down your cheek, “Then why?” You asked in a weak voice, “if you loved me and cared about me why didn’t you choose me instead?”

Another sigh escaped his lips and he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Because it’s different with her!“ He yelled back and he saw how another tear fell from your eye. He was hurting you, but he didn’t know how to explain you why it was different, “I don’t know how to explain” he spoke in a much calmer tone and leaned against the railing again, “she’s just different..”

I nodded “ah yes, because she never made mistakes, she was soft, loving and caring..” I paused “and I always did the opposite. Because I am harsh, an ex maffia member, someone who was obsessed with the thrill of life or death, money..” I looked at him angrily “is that the reason?”

Simon stayed silent for a few moments, thinking about your words. He knew that what you were saying was completely true, you have never been the soft or gentle type of woman, you could never love him as fiercely as Mia did. He lowered his gaze to his feet for a second and bit his lower lip before replying. “It is part of the reason-“

Your heart shattered even more as he confirmed your thoughts. “That’s exactly why isn’t it?“ You said in an almost inaudible whisper. “She loves you like a real lover should do.. while I do the opposite..” you muttered almost to yourself.

You chuckled humorlessly and shook your head, looking up at the night sky to hold your tears from falling down your face. “And the other reasons..?” You whispered, knowing you were stepping into a minefield.

He took a deep breath and let it out before answering your question. “It’s a.. lot of reasons actually.” He said in a much calmer voice than before. He could see and hear the pain in your voice and it made him want to comfort you, but he couldn’t do that. Not anymore. Not after everything.

“Then name them.“ You looked at him again, holding back all the emotions that were swirling in your brain, “tell me all the reasons that made you fall out of love for me and fall in love with her.”

He grunted and closed his eyes for a second before looking into your eyes again “first reason, the one you already guessed, is her nature. She’s sweet, gentle, kind, loving, she takes care of me when I need it.” He said in a low voice, his eyes locked into yours.

“Second,” he paused as he leaned forward and his body was now facing you fully, “she knows when to stop arguing and when to give in, she’s not stubborn like you.” He said without thinking and winced slightly.

He knew that the next reasons were going to rip you apart, that’s why he was taking time to give the perfect answer. “She’s not some mobster and a con.” He said in a cold tone as he looked up at you again.

Your eyes widened in shock when he spoke, you couldn’t believe that part of the reason was the fact that you were once a mafia member. “You-“ you spoke in a weak voice “you’re using my past as a reason?” You let out a humorless chuckle and shake your head.

“Don’t act surprised,” he said in a dry tone “you’re a criminal. A con woman and now an ex mobster.” He crossed his arms over his chest and slightly lifted his chin, staring into your eyes with a blank expression, “what do you expect?”

His cold words and expression felt like daggers into your heart and you closed your eyes momentarily to hold back your tears. “I know what I was, but I never expected you to use it against me.” You said in a quiet voice.

“You know how I was forced in that and the horrific situations I experienced and needed to endure..”

He bit his lip and his body tensed when you spoke about your past, he remembered hearing your stories more than once. He knew it was cruel to use that against you, but he just wanted you to understand, “Yes I do..” he said in a serious and firm voice “and that’s another part of the problem.”

“I don’t want to hear it anymore Simon… I couldn’t get over you because I love you.. or well loved you.” A tear welled up in my eye “you just proved me why I should not even want to speak to you again.”

He clenched his jaw when he saw the tear rolling down your face and closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to reach over and wipe the tear off your face, his hands were itching to feel your skin again, but he knew he couldn’t touch you. This was already too painful for both of you. He looked at you again and saw how much pain you were in. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said in a low tone, “I just wanted you to understand..”

“Understand your bullshit reasons to marry another woman,” you whispered and wiped the tear off your face with the back of your hand. You couldn’t take this anymore, hearing him give you so many reasons why he won’t choose you was slowly killing you.

He flinched slightly when you cursed, he also couldn’t stand seeing you in pain like that. “Those same bullshit reasons are the ones I’m choosing her over YOU!“ He snapped. He was losing control of his emotions hearing you speak and seeing your hurting expression.

“Then why are you still trying to explain them to me?” You spoke, feeling your anger rise as well, getting tired of his attitude. “You already chose her, you’re going to marry her tomorrow, then why are you wasting your time to explain me something you shouldn’t?!”

He let out a scoff and leaned more towards you, “Because I don’t want you to think that I’m only doing this out of spite! I’m in love with her okay?! And I’m going to marry her because I want to, I want to spent the rest of my life with her!” He yelled at you, letting out all his bottled up emotions.

I just stayed silent and looked at the stars in the sky before turning my face back to him “then I wish you well in live Simon.” And I walked downstairs towards the door

His heart sank when you walked away like that, you just stopped fighting, you just gave up. “That’s it?” He said in disbelief before he started walking after you, closing the distance between the two of you in a few strong steps. He grabbed your arm and stopped you from walking.

He turned you around so that you would be facing him and held your arm firmly to prevent you from walking away from him. He stared into your eyes as he spoke, his voice low. “That’s it?” he repeated, “you’re just leaving? Not even going to fight for me?”

You felt like your emotions were about to explode anytime now, he had no right to speak like that. “What the hell do you want me to do?!” You almost shouted, looking him straight in the eyes, “what more am I supposed to say!? You don’t want me, you chose another woman! I’m not going to fight when it’s already lost.”

He tightened his jaw and his grip on your arm. He didn’t know why he was so upset when you said those words. He should’ve been happy that you gave up, but he wanted to see the feisty woman that never surrender, he wanted you to fight for him. But the words you were saying to him made his heart ache. You were giving up on him, you just accepted that he was marrying another woman.

His expression softened when he saw more tears in your eyes and he slowly loosened his grip on your arm, holding it gently now. He took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice calm. “Say something. Yell at me, tell me I’m a bastard, that you hate me. Anything.”

You inhaled a shaky breath and tried to hold back your tears. Seeing him like this made your heart ache as well, but you knew you had to be strong, “What for? Do you want me to humiliate myself and beg you to pick me? Beg you that you will see how much I love you?”

“Well guess what Simon, I want you to thrive in your upcoming marriage and I don’t want to be seen as an obstacle, I don’t want to see you again Simon..” and I walked out the door and shut it close

And at that moment I felt like I lost myself, lost control. I called Shepard to surrender myself from the army and called an old friend of mine.

I called Amanda “shym is that really you? Girl we’ve missed you so much!”

Amanda’s excited tone on the other side of the phone made your heart clench slightly, you missed your old friend. A lot.

“How is angels palace doing Amanda? I want to come back. I miss everyone..”

“Oh we’re all good but we all miss your presence!” Amanda said in a cheerful tone “Come back here you crazy bitch, we all miss our queen.”

I smiled as tears welled up in my eyes again “so my dad isn’t angry at me leaving him?”

“Yeah he’s still sulking about it“ said Amanda before bursting into laughter “it’s kinda funny whenever someone mentions you, he just puffs like an angry child. But I know and everyone knows that secretly he’s missing your smartass comebacks.”

“And most of all his backbone, you were thriving and making us a lot of money, you need to come back.. Sol.”

A chuckle escaped your lips when she used your old name, nobody called you like that anymore. “Stop it, you’re making me miss that place even more. I swear to God if I get home and I don’t see my favorite drink at the bar I’m going to strangle your ass.”

“My flight leaves at 9 AM, I’ll see you around 7 PM in the evening alright?”

“Perfect, just be prepared to drink tons of my good old cocktails.” Amanda said and you could sense the excitement in her voice.

I drove home and instantly packed all my belongings and my cat, couldn’t leave the poor guy behind. I left my keys in the plant pot and put a note for my tenant that I payed last month rent and I’ve moved out.

After everything was in your bags and the car, you sat down in the driver’s seat and drove straight to the airport. You were already excited to see your old home again and meet your old friends, but your heart still ached from the whole Simon situation.

You checked in your bag and sat down in the waiting area for your flight. People were all around you, walking, chatting, all seemed normal. But you felt heavy and tired, you couldn’t get Simon’s face out of your head. You closed your eyes to rest for a moment.

You were awakened by the announcement on the speakers that your flight was about to start boarding up. You slowly opened your eyes and stood up from your sit, grabbing your bags. You slowly made your way to the boarding desk, showing the worker your ticket before making your way onto the plane.

Time to go back to bogota..

You made your way to your seat at the plane and strapped the seatbelt around your waist. You inhaled a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment, trying not to think about Simon.

‘He’s marrying that stuck up doctor today, I hope everything goes well for them’ I thought

Even thinking that made your heart ache. You hated the thought of him marrying another woman. You took a deep breath and took out your headphones, deciding to play some music to distract yourself.

The flight seemed long, but at least the loud music was helping you to distract from your thoughts. You were listening to some of your favorite songs when the pilot announced your arrival to Bogota.

Back in London it was Simon, trying to call you multiple times since yesterday

He sat alone in his kitchen with his head resting on his crossed forearms. He hasn’t slept and he had bags under his eyes. He picked his phone up again and called your number, hoping that this time you would answer.

He tapped his foot on the floor anxiously and held his breath, listening to the beeping. But then he heard your voicemail again, causing his expression to tense up. He growled in irritation and was about to throw the phone but he quickly stopped himself and called your number again.

He impatiently waited for your voice but heard your voicemail again. He let out another loud sigh and leaned against his chair, covering his face with one of his hands. He was getting fed up, why weren’t you answering?

He dropped his hands from his face and looked at Soap who was grinning widely. He let out a scoff and rolled his eyes with annoyance, “Yeah I’m marrying her today, not even a bloody congratulations?”

Soap scoffed as well and shook his head, “I wouldn’t compliment your choice mate and you know that” he said and sat down next to him, patting his shoulder “are you actually going through with this?”

He leaned back in his seat and avoided eye contact with Soap, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Why wouldn’t I?” He asked in a rough tone, “she’s the one I’m marrying in a couple of hours remember?”

Soap narrowed his eyes at him “because you haven’t slept at all, and you haven’t even spoken to your fiancé since yesterday” he said in a suspicious tone, he knew his friend well and knew that something was wrong.

He averted his gaze from Soap and clenched his jaw. He hadn’t spoken to her, he had called her multiple times but you weren’t answering him, which irritated him even more. He hated the fact that he was having second thoughts and he hated the fact that you still had such an effect on him. “I’m just stressed about the whole marriage situation.” He lied.

Soap chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, “You, stressed? You’re one of the most calm and composed guys I know” he said in a disbelieving tone, he knew he was hiding something.

He let out a loud scoff and finally looked up at Soap, his expression still tense “even I can get stressed sometimes Soap. Can you just cut me some slack for now?”

Soap raised his hands in defense and gave him a smirk, “Alright mate settle down, was just messing with you” he said and gave him a playful pat on his shoulder “but seriously, are you alright?”

He inhaled a shaky breath and leaned his head back to rest on his chair. He had never opened up to anyone about something like that before. But Soap was his close friend and he trusted him the most out of everyone. He let out a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling “No, I’m not.” He admitted slowly.

“It’s shym.” He said bluntly

Soap’s eyebrows knotted together in confusion “shym? What about her?” He asked in disbelief.

He let out a tired exhale and closed his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair before looking at Soap “She just won’t leave my mind, every time I try to stop thinking about her she’s still there” he admitted, he felt relieved that he was finally telling someone about how he felt, especially Soap who was his best friend.

“You still love shym don’t you..” he said firmly

He stayed silent for a moment, his expression tense. He slowly looked up at Soap and nodded “yeah, I still love her, more than anyone in the world” he admitted in a firm tone “I never stopped loving her.”

Soap raised his eyebrows in surprise. Out of all the possibilities of why his friend was so distracted, he didn’t expect his to say that. “Then why are you marrying another woman?” He asked in disbelief.

Simon looked at soap “because I also love Mia, a lot.. and she’s a better option.”

Soap let out a scoff and rolled his eyes, “How the hell is she a better option? Mate, you’re marrying a woman that you don’t even love that much, instead of the woman you truly love, do you even hear yourself right now?”

He looked away and clenched his jaw stubbornly “Mia is everything I need. She doesn’t distract me with her stupidity, she actually supports me and is there for me. She’s everything I need” he said as he tried to convince himself it was the truth.

Soap rolled his eyes and stood up from his chair, “That’s such bullshit mate and you know it.” He said in an annoyed tone, “You can’t marry a woman that’s not the one that you truly love. Can’t you just pull your head out of your ass and admit that you love shym?”

“It’s already too late, shym left with no trace.. I said some hurtful stuff yesterday and no one can find her now..”

Soap’s eyes widened in surprise and his heart ached for his friend. He didn’t want to believe that it was already too late. He walked back towards him and placed his hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze “She can’t have disappeared like that, she must be somewhere..”

And now i returned to the hotel a coverup for a secret organization that trades and smuggles drugs and other stuff.

As you walked into the palace you saw many people who were close to your family or that you had done business with before. They all looked surprised but somewhat happy to see that you had returned. As soon as your father saw you, he exclaimed and spread his arms wide open before pulling you into a tight and emotional embrace.

“Family! My backbone has returned!”

All the people in the room clapped and cheered as you appeared. Your father kept his arm around your shoulders and held you close to him as he spoke out to everyone in the room. “My daughter has finally returned” he said in a proud tone, “I missed her so much, I cannot believe that she has returned to us, my family is finally reunited once more!”

PART 2 SOON

[barbieaemond]

Religion (sneak peek)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: mild angst, misogyny, pregnancy, childbirth, oral sex, p in v, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, brief lactation kink, breeding kink, manipulation (to get some), some good ol' tying up, slandering of the Gods lol

Author's note: this is the third and final part following And I dream of a grave and A curse for a curse but can be read as a standalone. It will be posted tomorrow!

She looks around briefly; the room is warm, the fire in the hearth is lit, as the candles scattered all around. This is all quite familiar. “These are my old chambers…” she says with a little frown, turning to him.

“Quite the observer, wife.” He drawls, and takes a few steps. His stride is different now. Slow, contemplating, just as his gaze raking over her, as if he in the first place doesn’t know why he brought her here and he’s assessing what to do. A war map unfolding, and he knows where all the faults lie.

“I thought we could spend some time together” he starts, walking past her to go sit near the fire “Alone.” he adds once he leisurely sits down, crossing his long legs and resting his hands on the armrests. “What better place than a vacant room? No one will come looking for us here.”

She tries as hard as she can to stop the little smirk at the corner of her lips; she walks closer, stopping right in front of him, staring down. “They might hear.” 

“Hmm. And that is much of a trouble for you, isn’t it?” he asks with the most fake genuine tone, taking a cup from the nearby table, and then “You sucked my cock on a terrace and begged me to fuck you in the Small Council…I thought I told you to quit your act.”

She smiles openly now, watching the wine pouring in the cup, his eye fixed on the liquid as his eyebrow shots up. “Besides, I know exactly what to do to muffle your noises.”

“You should be proud of my noises.”

“I am.” He says, taking a sip of wine, his eye piercing through her above the cup’s brim. “But for once, Aegon is right. I’m not one for sharing.”

His arm moves to put the wine aside but she takes it, only to feel his hand pulling the cup away from her. “You cannot drink.”

“Fine.” She concedes, leaning on him. “I’ll have it my way.”

She holds his face and with her left hand she glides her fingers on the left side, delicately but with purpose, pushing the eyepatch off. And then she kisses him, eagerly, licking his lips and then breaching inside to taste the wine on his tongue, on the roof of his mouth.

She sighs deeply when he locks his tongue with hers, and feels his lips curling.

“Did you hear it?” He says breaking the kiss, breathing into her mouth. “That one is my favorite.”

“Your favorite what?” She asks mindlessly, chasing his lips but to no use, because he tilts his head back, his cursed smirk lingering.

“Noise. It’s a little thing…” he tells her, locking one hand around her neck “in the back of your throat, close to a sigh but not quite…” his fingers trail against her throat, chasing her swallowing “It tells me you’re dying to.”

“To do what?”

“Fall on your knees for me. Be a supplicant.”

She grabs the back of his neck, driving his head close and looks down at his arched mouth “You cannot live without God, can you?” She looks up, her mouth open to breathe “Seven of them seem to have cursed me. I had to find my own.”

His eye widens at that. He looks straight into her eyes, so devoted, so raw. She’s right. The Gods would curse her some more if they saw she looked at him the way she should look at the Gods.

“Then do it.”

“What?”

“Flatteries don’t work on me, sweetling. You should know that.” With his hand on her neck, he slightly pushes her away, putting some distance between them. “You will have to show me.”

“What would you have me do?”

His hands let go of her completely, resting on the armchair. The gemstone glints in blue and yet, it’s nowhere near the bright cursed thing in his eye. “Get on your knees for me. Now.”

She should be ashamed of the pull in her bones, the muscles willing to move on their own accord and fall to the ground. But why, why does it have to be sin? Why can it not be religion?

[draconic-desire]

your yan!neuvi series got me on a chokehold !! I feel so bad for darling but it got me thinking, would neuvillette ever allow them to i dont know, go visit mondt to look at their parents’ grave (?).

Neuvillette meets his (dead) in-laws edition 😂

Ok this idea is simultaneously kinda funny but also makes me cry a bit because I totally think Neuvillette would have ensured your family’s wellbeing in your absence. Despite his flaws, he still maintains his overwhelming sense of duty and justice.

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

(A Dance with the Dragon Interlude)

Talking about your life four centuries ago has become a bit of a taboo in the household you share with Neuvillette.

Mostly, it only serves to incite an argument, one you are always predestined to lose. The other times, it only reminds you of painful memories. So, you’ve learned to bite your tongue, to keep your past held tightly to your heart. Neuvillette doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, you believe he might prefer if your history were to be wiped from your mind completely, leaving a blank slate for him to carve his essence into.

Which is why you’re so shocked when, on a particularly storming evening, the Chief Justice himself requests, “Tell me about what your parents were like.”

Jolting, you nearly drop the book in your hands. He’s not looking at you—usually, having his gaze on you translates to irritation, concern, or lust. When he’s looking away from you, as he is now, irises trained on the waves battering the cliffs below your home, you know that means he is instead thinking, pondering.

But thinking about what? Your eyes narrow, and your heart accelerates. What is he getting at?

A hand clenches around your heart when you try to picture your mother and father in your head—and fail. Four hundred years without a visit or simple image…of course their features have faded over time. But you’ll never forget the warmth, the knowledge that they loved you until the end and supported your lifelong wish of pursuing marine biology, even when it took you away from them.

You only shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about that, Neuvillette.”

He turns to you, now, eyes filled with calculation. A judge presiding over his court. “I had no parents. I simply…came to exist. Born of the water, the waves, the sea foam, and bestowed with this primordial power.” He glances down at his gloved hand, palm squeezing into a fist. “So the idea of parents is…foreign to me. Though I have a sense of the kind of ceaseless, unconditional love that defines a family.” You know he’s talking about his feelings for you, and your tattoo burns. “Experiencing a loss of that magnitude would be incomprehensible.”

For the life of you, you cannot figure out his endgame here. Why acknowledge your loss? Why equate his adoration and obsession with you for parental love? Your eyes burn, your breath quickens, you feel the tattoo pulse with energy as you—

“Do you ever wonder about how they lived the rest of their lives?”

Yes. No. Everyday. Somehow, you find your voice, a quiet thing filled with warning. Your skin feels so hot, like your veins are laced with lightning. “And how would you know anything about that?”

Neuvillette’s sharp eyes cut to your frame. “I…made sure that they were fully provided for. They lived happy lives, believing you to be living out your dreams in Fontaine. They are now buried together, in the cathedral cemetery overlooking the Brightcrown Mountains.”

Your breath hitches, and that power in your blood begins to settle. Their favorite place. The Brightcrown Mountains, where your father proposed to your mother. The Favonius Cathedral, where they were married. And the cemetery behind the church, where your grandparents had been entombed, too.

Something falls onto your lap. It’s only when you touch your hands to your face that you realize you’re crying. Neuvillette watches you with concern, one hand raised and poised to reach out to you, but he keeps his distance as he lets you process.

You release a shaky sigh. Was it true? Did they pass with no fear for your safety, in ignorant bliss of your extended life? The thought, although morbid in some ways, actually brings you a sense of peace. Your parents never had to endure the loss of you in the same way you had for them.

You swallow thickly, your voice hoarse with emotion. “Can we…visit them?”

That sets Neuvillette’s back ramrod straight as he blinks. You’ve only been out of the house a handful of times, and he was the one to bring this topic to light, but to venture out of Fontaine entirely? His protective and possessive instincts flare immediately, screaming at him to shut this idea down, to grab you and sink his teeth into your neck, dominant, claiming. But as his silver eyes flick across your face, taking in your tears, the tremble in your hands, the pit of mixed despair and relief in your eyes, he relents.

Slowly, he blinks, taking in a deep breath. You’re expecting an excuse, a verbal slap on this wrist disguised as concern for your safety. Which is why, for the second time tonight, you’re stunned when Neuvillette, rising to his feet, extends his hand. “I’ll take you there.”

~*~

The trip is easy, thanks to the Hydro Dragon’s teleportation abilities. The two of you arrive at the large square in front of the cathedral, the statue of Barbados towering above you. Briefly, you wonder what the Archon of Freedom thinks about your situation, or if he even deigns to care.

Not much has changed about Mondstadt in four hundred years. The streets still possess an older feel, cobblestone streets and stone walls surrounding the city. After seeing the drastic change in Fontaine, the fact envelopes you in a sense of comfort, knowing that at least one aspect of the world has aged alongside you, long-lived but unchanged.

It’s long grown dark, and the heavy downpour persists. Neither of you brought an umbrella as you ascend the stairs and wrap around to the cemetery behind the church. The rain, however, seems to dissolve into your skin rather than chilling you or soaking your clothes, no doubt another consequence of Neuvillette’s magic coursing through your veins.

The Hydro Dragon leads you to a small plot towards the back. Two tombstones are erected side by side, and you fall to your knees as you read: (Mother’s name) and (Father’s name) (L/n). Lives entwined to their last breath, they soar high above the clouds.

You hear a rustle of fabric, and soon Neuvillette has joined you, kneeling by your side. He raises his arm, and tendrils of blue light pool from his palm, forming the shape of beautiful flowers. They surround the graves, a sea of blues to celebrate your loved ones.

The two of you sit there for what could have been minutes or hours. All you know is that this is the most at peace you’ve felt in four hundred years.

[hederasgarden]

Stand By Me - Part 3

Summary: When a local ranch hand’s attention evolves into something more sinister, Rhett Abbott becomes an unlikely source of comfort and protection for you. Pairing: Rhett Abbott x F!Reader Word Count: 4.8K Rating: Mature, future chapters will be explicit and 18+ only. Stalking, anxiety, and Rhett being protective. Future chapters will include some violence. No spoilers for Outer Range. A/N: Welp, here we are a year later. 😬 Sorry it has taken me so long to update. I cannot thank my beta N, @mayhem24-7forever and @whatblogisthis216 enough for their help and support putting this together. Thank you @callsignhurricane for the absolutely gorgeous header.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this story. Your interactions keep me writing and inspired.

Masterlist | Lewis Pullman Characters Masterlist

"I see you're in with the Abbotts now," your boss remarks, watching Rhett climb into his truck. "Got a phone call from Cecilia this morning about you not closing up by yourself anymore. That woman has a real way about her, all polite-like when she's handing you your ass." 

“Mr. Anderson,” you start, rushing to explain but he waves you off. 

“She was right, of course. I know you got that, er- fella who hangs around too much.”

“My stalker?” You question, your tone harsher than you intend. He looks down at you, surprised. There’s an apology on the tip of your tongue but you resist, meeting his brown eyes. Maybe it’s knowing you had Rhett and Cecilia on your side, or maybe some leftover frustration from the Sheriff. Either way, you don't back down from your statement. 

“I suppose he could be,” Mr. Anderson agrees. “Anyhow, I’ve got Johnny set to close from now on. You go on and tell that to Cecilia now. One dressing down from that woman is enough.”

“I’ll let her know.” 

He nods, patting your shoulder briefly before disappearing into the back office. You exhale and look back out to the empty street. It’s stupid to miss Rhett but a small part of you does. You’re safe in the store; there’s no need to have him here with you. He has a life of his own and a ranch to help run. 

“Was that Rhett Abbott?”

You turn to face the owner of the voice, finding your coworker Sandra watching you excitedly. She’s got that glint in her eye, the one that means she’s not going to let this go easily. Wabang didn’t have a town gossip, but if they did, everyone knows she’d happily take the job. In high school, she was in everyone’s business, spreading rumors and ferreting out information. She never looked twice at you back then, you were too boring and quiet. 

“It was. He just gave me a lift. Not a big deal,” you promise her.

“Uh, nope," she says, popping the p and stopping you with a hand on your arm. "We’re not going to breeze past the fact that you left your car here last night and now the manwhore of Wabang is dropping you off. Spill," she demands.

"We're not…," you start, an automatic denial falling from your lips before you can stop it. She gives you an incredulous look and you stammer out an answer. "It's not a big deal. We're, um, dating," you explain.

"Rhett Abbott doesn't 'date'," she tells you, eyes narrowed. "He has sex with whatever buckle bunny catches his eye.”

“He’s not like that,” you argue, defensive at the way she speaks about him. You know Rhett’s reputation, pretty much everyone does, but you saw a different side of him last night and this morning. You know there’s something more under that charming smile. He listened when no one else did and that means something to you. 

“Honey, please,” she says dismissively. “That boy is nothing but trouble and trash. You best stay away from him."

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you tell her, voice warbling with emotion. “He’s not like everyone says.”

Sandra’s perfectly plucked brows disappear into her hairline. “Alright, alright,” she concedes, hands held up. “Just be careful. He might not stick around after he gets what he wants from you.”

“He’s stuck around the last two months just fine,” you fire back, only realizing after the words are out that you and Rhett never talked about a timeline. 

“Really?” Sandra says, leaning in closer enough for you to catch the fruity scent of the gum she smacks noisily. “That certainty explains why he hasn’t been hanging around the Handsome Gambler lately. I just thought maybe he was getting serious about bull riding or Royal had him on a short leash after the last fight.” She leans back, looking contemplative. “Well, that was some exciting gossip for a Friday morning.”

“Please don’t spread this around,” you ask her, knowing full well she would. Although the idea of people talking about your personal life made your skin crawl, you knew if Rhett were here he’d say it was good. The more it spread, the more likely your stalker would learn of it and back off. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” she promises you, crossing her fingers and winking. 

Sandra spends the rest of your time together on her phone, chewing on the endless supply of gum she keeps next to the register. You’re normally not a self involved person but you’re fairly certain she’s texting about you and Rhett. During lunch, you send him a text of your own about your conversation with Sandra. He responds immediately with a thumbs up emoji which doesn’t help your anxiety. What if he was mad? What if he was with another girl at that time and you just screwed up this whole story?

You spend your shift distracted, overthinking what you told Sandra enough that you keep losing track of the inventory you’re working on. Eventually you give up and volunteer to work the till. An unexpectedly busy afternoon keeps your focus on the task at hand and you don’t even notice it’s 5 p.m. until you look up and find Rhett in line for your register, a shopping basket in hand. 

He steps up to the counter and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you return, feeling unexpectedly shy. You stare at him long enough that he clears his throat and nudges the basket towards you.

“You gonna check me out?” he asks, his tone playful. 

Beside you, Sandra scoffs. When you spare her a glance, you find her watching Rhett. His attention, though, is focused on you. 

“What’s all this?” You question, taking out the deadbolt kit and some window locks.

“For your apartment. When I was there last night I saw they could use an update.”

“Rhett…” you trail off, embarrassed. 

He seems to sense your emotions and leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “I think this is the part where you ask me, cash or card,” he whispers. 

“Will that be cash or card?” You ask, thankful for how easily he dispels your discomfort.

After you’ve finished checking him out, you clock out and let him walk you to his truck with an arm around your shoulder.  Once you reach your apartment he pulls out a tool bag from the bed of the truck and says he’ll install the new deadbolt while you get ready. A part of you wants to protest or offer to pay him for the supplies, while another is too embarrassed to draw attention to what he’s doing for you, so instead you say nothing and disappear into your room.

“Pretty sure they’re doing line dancing tonight,” Rhett calls out in between the sounds of the power drill. “You got some boots you can wear?”

“Uh…I think so," you half yell back, staring at the contents of your closet. 

You have to get on your hands and knees and pull aside a few boxes to find a pair of brown boots. The last time you wore them was for high school graduation, back when your grandfather had been alive. You trace the delicate lines of embroidery around the calf, pale pink and periwinkle flowers connected by green vines. There hadn’t been a reason to wear them since, all you did was go to work and come home. 

Tonight seems as good as any and you stand to finish getting dressed. The sundress and jean jacket are a little dated but they’re comfortable and look nice enough. Once you’ve managed to fix your hair and makeup, you return to the living room to find Rhett replacing the old window locks.

The creak in the floor draws his attention to you briefly before his eyes return to the window. A second later they’re back on you. He blinks and stands, clearing his throat. 

“I think I’m ready," you announce. 

“You, ah, look real nice,” he tells you, nodding. “I like the flowers.” 

“Thanks. You look nice too,” you add, touching your neck self-consciously when he doesn’t immediately speak again but keeps watching you.

“Well…we should probably get going then.”

“Yeah,” you agree, watching Rhett gather up his tools. “Thanks again for installing that stuff.” 

Rhett nods. “I’ll finish up with the other windows tomorrow.”

The drive to the bar is quiet. Rhett’s fingers drum on the steering wheel as you wait at the stoplight. You cycle through potential conversation openers but discard them all. Nothing feels right, and you realize that the sour pit in your stomach only grows the closer you get to the Handsome Gambler. 

Would he be there tonight you wondered? Just the thought of seeing him is enough to make your breath come quickly and your hands tremble. You exhale and close your eyes, trying to get yourself together. Rhett is here. 

When the engine cuts out you look up, eyes drawn to the neon glow of the Handsome Rambler’s sign. Rhett’s quick to meet you at the curb, offering his arm. You curl your hand around his bicep and he draws you close. At this time of night, the bar is busy, humming with energy and conversation. Rhett navigates the crowd with ease, exchanging brief hellos with a few people, finally stopping at an empty booth. You slide in and he follows. 

“Want a beer?” He asks.

You’re not much of a drinker but you nod anyway. Rhett flags down a waitress and a few minutes later two cold beers are dropped off at your table. You fiddle with the label as Rhett takes a long swig and leans back, shoulders relaxing. When you sense him watching, you bring the bottle to your lips and take a drink. It’s cold and a little bitter on your tongue. Your distaste for it must show because Rhett cocks his head to the side with a faint smile on his lips.

“I can order you something else,” he offers. “Wine? Something fruity?”

“Maybe something fruity… honestly though this is okay. I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Rhett shakes his head and flags down the waitress again, ordering you a daiquiri. “It won’t go to waste,” he assures you, pulling the beer toward him.

You return his smile as he rests his arm along the back of the booth. His fingertips hover just above your shoulder, not quite touching your jacket. This close to him you can smell his cologne, faint and a little musky but nice. Everything about this is surprisingly nice, including the way his denim-clad leg presses against yours, warm and firm. 

“He’s not here,” Rhett announces and you look up at him sharply. He’s still scanning the bar as he sips from his beer. For one silly moment, you forgot why you were even here, something that seemed impossible earlier. 

“Should we go?” You ask Rhett.

You’d only come to make it clear to the man that you were with Rhett.

“What?” Rhett’s brow furrows as he glances at you. “Why? You wanna go?”

“No.” You shake your head just as the waitress arrives with your drink. “We came so he’d see…”

“There’s more than one way to make sure he knows,” Rhett tells you, pushing up the brim of his hat before leaning in close. You can feel his breath against your cheek. “Look to your right, past the pool tables. You see those men?” You nod, watching the rowdy group in the corner playing darts as you absently sip your drink. 

“They all work at the Dustin ranch, including the one in the baseball cap who keeps looking at us.” At that moment, the man in question stands up for his turn and looks back, meeting your eyes. If he is surprised to find you looking, he doesn’t show it. He holds your gaze for a second before glancing at Rhett who smirks and waves. His expression doesn’t change but when he turns back you catch a brief flash of something.

“He’ll make sure Jimmy gets the message that you’re with me.”

“Jimmy?”

“Your stalker," Rhett clarifies. "After I dropped you off this morning I paid a friend of mine a visit that’s friendly with the foreman of the Dustin ranch. That’s the man’s name. He hangs out with the guy in the baseball cap, Rick.” 

“Oh.” You stare at the table, trying to process the information Rhett gave you.

When he says your name softly you realize several minutes have passed in silence. “Sorry, I….” you trail off and look back at the man with the baseball cap. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Rhett says. “This is a lot.”

You nod, lips pressed together because you don’t trust yourself to speak. 

“Line dancing looks fun,” he notes, taking a swig of beer. “Might be a nice distraction and you can put those fancy boots to good use.”

“They’re not fancy,” you defend. 

“Hmmm, don’t look like nothing I’ve seen at the feed store,” he teases. “Come on.” He stands and offers his hand. 

You let him pull you up and follow him to the dance floor as Vince Gill’s What The Cowgirls Do fades from the speakers and a soft, more subdued song  plays. The crowd thins and you realize the remaining dancers are pairing up. Rhett doesn’t seem deterred by the change in music, grasping your right hand and wrapping his left arm loosely around your body. His palm rests firmly on your shoulder blade, pulling your body close to his. After a moment of hesitation, you settle your left arm on his bicep.

“It’s been a while since I’ve danced like this,” you admit, watching how easily the other couples move around the dance floor. 

“Nothing to it. All you gotta do is follow, I’ll lead,” Rhett promises, surging forward and taking you with him. 

You stumble a little but he’s quick to adjust his pace for you, whispering words of encouragement. Maybe it's how Rhett guides you around the dance floor or some long buried muscle memory from high school but soon enough you’re moving in sync. Then he raises his arm to spin your body in a circle before quickly drawing you back into his arms. When he does it again a second time, a breathless laugh escapes you. 

“Atta girl,” Rhett says, drawing you closer. 

Your skin tingles and you feel warm all over when he speaks those two simple words. The world narrows to Rhett’s handsome face, his blue eyes dark pools in the dim light. Your chest constricts, only allowing you to pull in shallow breaths that leave you lightheaded. It’s only when someone else bumps into the two of you and the spells breaks that you realize a new, more upbeat song is playing. 

Rhett’s lashes flutter and he releases you, his gaze falling away a moment later. 

“Beer’s probably getting warm,” he says and you hum your agreement, letting him lead you back to your seat.

Before you can make it, two men you don’t recognize stop Rhett. 

“Shit, that you Abbott?” The shorter one questions, swaying on his feet. 

You watch Rhett for his reaction, only relaxing when he smiles. “Smitty.”

“Heard you’re riding tomorrow.”

“I am,” Rhett agrees.

“Damn,now we gotta go to see that,” he tells his friend before turning his attention to you. “Did you know your boyfriend's one of the best damn bull riders in these parts?" He asks. 

You’re not sure what to say so you just nod. 

“You guys gotta come get a drink with us,” Smitty says. 

“Thanks, but my girl and I were about to head out,” Rhett says, capturing your hand in his. “Y'all have a good night.”

My girl. 

Rhett uses that phrase so casually, like he’s done it 100 times before. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a world where it’s true, losing yourself in the fantasy long enough to miss the rest of their conversation. When Smitty and his friend stumble away, Rhett leads you back to the booth where  your daiquiri has all but melted. If Rhett’s beer is warm, he doesn’t show it, finishing it off in one gulp. 

“If you want to get a drink with your friends…,” you start hesitantly.

Rhett’s quick to cut you off with a shake of his head.  “Not with those two dipshits. They’re fun for sure but… trouble too.”

You turn to face him. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He waves your comment away, grinning with one side of his mouth. “Maybe, but it aint suitable for girls with flowers on their boots.” 

The rest of the evening passes surprisingly easy, so much so that before you know it, it’s nearly midnight and you’ve all but forgotten about Jimmy and the man in the hat. Rhett pays your bill with cash and walks you to his car, keeping a hand on your lower back. 

Once you arrive at your apartment, Rhett turns off the truck and leans forward to look out the windshield.

“Want me to stay the night?” He asks, leaning back. 

You do, but you’re aware of just how much he’s done for you already; staying over last night and pretending with you at the bar. You should decline and let him go home to sleep in a real bed but behind him you can see the dark windows of your apartment and the words catch in your throat. 

“Never was an Eagle Scout,” he starts, pulling a black duffle bag from behind the seat, “but I came prepared.”

You stare at the bag, surprised, and when you look back at Rhett he gives you that half smile of his, brow arched. You find yourself nodding before you can think too hard about it.

“Alright,” Rhett says, opening his door, “come on.”

That night you sleep better than you have in weeks and when the morning comes, you quietly slip out of your bedroom.  Rhett is already up, a mug of coffee in hand. He looks lost in thought, a deep crease between his brows but his expression clears when he sees you. 

“Made coffee,” he says, raising his mug. “Hope that was alright.”

“Of course,” you’re quick to tell him. 

“I won't be able to pick you up after work,” Rhett says, following you into the kitchen and leaning back against the counter. “Gotta be at the rodeo early but my Ma said she’d b there.”

“Okay.” You yawn as you doctor your coffee to make it sweet enough to drink.

“Looks like I kept you out too late,” he observes, watching you over the rim of his mug. 

“No, it was…” you pause searching for the right word but come up short. “I appreciate it,” you finally settle on. 

Rhett nods, looking away. “It’s nothing.”

When he sets his empty mug in the sink, you head back to your room and get ready for work.  Once you’re dressed, you reach for the beat-up tennis shoes you always wear, stopping short when you see your boots from last night. You hesitate for only a second before slipping them on instead. 

Rhett drops you off with a kiss on your cheek and a wave to Sandra, who watches the two of you from the front window display. The day passes uneventfully, without any sign of Jimmy. A little after 6 pm the Abbotts come to collect you. Cecilia is warm and open, asking about work while Royal drives, glancing at you occasionally in the rearview mirror. You’ve only met Rhett’s father in passing and always found him to be an intimidating man. Tonight he’s mostly silent, only chiming in when you tell Cecilia about an issue that happened today with Donald Everrtt’s lumber order.

“That man’s got more cows than sense,” Royal grumbles and you laugh when Cecilia chastises him.

Leaning back and gazing out the window, you think about your own parents. They weren’t so different from Rhett’s and you’d forgotten how nice something as simple as this could feel. Thinking of them hurts like it always does and you swallow around the lump in your throat, distracting yourself by listening to Cecilia and Royal talk about Rhett and the bull he’s meant to ride tonight. 

When you arrive at the rodeo, it’s loud and chaotic. The announcer booms something about the bull riding beinging soon. It doesn’t escape your notice that Royal and Cecilia keep you between them as they guide you through the crowd of people to the metal bleachers where Rhett’s brother and his family are waiting. Their daughter, Amy, is quick to question you once you’re seated. 

“Are you Uncle Rhett’s girlfriend?” she asks, leaning around Cecilia to see you.

You stare at her, unsure how to answer with so many people around. Rhett had shared the plan with his parents but you weren’t sure who else knew the truth. Your silence makes Amy’s  little brows furrow, a look so reminiscent of her uncle that it almost makes you smile. 

Thankfully Cecilia interjects before you have to figure out what to say. “Yes, Amy.”

Before Amy can ask you any more questions, her mother suggests they get some popcorn. Once they disappear, Perry takes a swig from the flask in his boot, and when he sees his mother looking, he makes a face.

“Come on Ma,” he grumbles, but Cecilia pins him with a silent, angry look and he eventually puts the flask away, sighing heavily.

There are several riders before Rhett and you watch each of them get thrown from their bull with increasing anxiety. You search for him among the crowd of riders at the far end of the fence. When you spot him, you’re surprised to find he’s watching you. He grins, tipping his hat. It’s such a simple gesture, but it fills you with a fluttering warmth that lasts long after he looks away to acknowledge his parents. 

When it’s finally Rhett’s turn to ride, you rub your hands on your thighs anxiously. The buzzer goes off and you flinch as the gate is ripped open. The world narrows to Rhett, the bull, and the sound of your own breathing. The seconds tick past agonizingly slow until he’s thrown from the bull. 

Dust flies and the bull stomps. You stand up, searching until you find him stock still in the dirt. You make a small, terrified sound and Royal touches your shoulder drawing your gaze. 

“He’s okay. Just got the breath knocked from him,” he assures you. 

You look at Cecilia who seems just as concerned but then a second later the bull is gone and Rhett stands. His gaze is focused on the scoreboard but you watch him. His expression is serious, lips pressed into a thin line as his chest heaves. Then suddenly he smiles, open joy written across his features and the crowd cheers. When you look up his name is first on the board. 

Beside you, Royal yells and Perry sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. Cecilia shouts his name and Amy jumps with excitement. You expect Rhett to come straight to his parents but he makes a beeline for you, climbing up the bleachers and past people with ease. 

“Rhett,” you start, whatever you were going to say cut short by his lips on yours. The kiss is intense but brief. When he pulls away, he looks as surprised as you feel. You stare at one another before suddenly he’s pulled back by an older man who claps him on the shoulder. More people push forward to offer him congratulations. 

“Let him hear you one more time,” the announcer encourages. “Ladies and gentlemen, your hometown hero, Rhett Abbott!”

You touch your lips, mind working hard to process what just happened. Rhett looks back, eyes glued to yours as he’s pulled back into the ring.

“Come on sweetheart,” Cecilia urges, patting your arm. “Let’s wait for him at the other end. Less people.”

You can’t see her eyes under the brim of your hat but you suddenly realize she and about a hundred other people just witnessed what Rhett did. You have no idea what his parents must think. There’s another feeling under the embarrassment and awkwardness that you don’t investigate too closely. 

“Well that was something,” Royal says and you glance up at him sharply before you realize he’s talking about Rhett’s ride. 

Cecilia smiles. “He’s gonna ride next weekend in the finals for sure.”

“I knew he’d make it,” Royal says proudly and you smile at both of them, nodding your agreement. 

After a few minutes, Perry arrives alone. “It was getting late so I thought it best Amy went home,” he tells the three of you, hands on his hips. “She can celebrate with us tomorrow.”

“Hmmm and I suppose you’re gonna help your brother celebrate tonight?” Cecilia asks, judgment clear in her tone.

“Yeah. Handsome Gambler,” he confirms, clapping Rhett on the back as he arrives. “You’ll be drinking for free, that’s for sure.” 

“Did you consider that your brother might not want to go?” Cecilia asks, looking at you pointedly. 

“Oh, that’s alright. We can go,” you say, feeling even more awkward.

Perry grins and leans in. This close you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Great, I’ll get us a booth.”

He disappears before Rhett even has a chance to speak. Cecilia sighs and Royal rubs her back. “Nothing wrong with having a little fun,” he reminds her.

“I know,” she concedes. “But be safe,” she adds, looking intently at Rhett.

“I will,” he promises her, nodding seriously.  

Cecilia offers you a tight hug, promising to stop by the store later in the week. Once she and Royal are gone, you’re alone with Rhett. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. 

“I’m sorry.” He pauses, looking back at you. “For the kiss. I shoulda asked if you were okay with that. I was out of line.”

“It’s okay. It uh, was good. Lots of people saw. That’s the point right?”

He stares at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yeah, that’s the point," he agrees, finally before his gaze flicks away. “But, we don’t have to go to the Gambler tonight. Perry’s just… Perry,” he finishes with a long suffering sigh. 

You think about how excited he was before and what tonight means for him. He’d done so much for you lately, the least you could do was go with him to the bar. There was no way he’d drop you off and home and go alone. You had fun with him last night after all. Maybe tonight would be just as nice. 

“We can go,” you tell him but he frowns, clearly unconvinced. It’s late and you’re tired but it isn’t hard to manage a genuine smile for him. “Afterall, I brought my dancing boots,” you add, pulling up your jeans to reveal them. 

“Alright,” he agrees, his expression lightening. 

The bar is more crowded than last night and Rhett keeps you close. Everyone wants to talk to him, including Maria. You can’t help but feel jealous at the way she lays a hand on Rhett’s arm and leans in close to speak to him. She’s even more beautiful than she was in high school when half the town knew he’d been in love with her.

Watching them together and seeing the easy way he smiled at her, you wonder if he still is. That makes your chest ache, which is silly. You and Rhett weren’t actually together. Nothing, from the dance last night to his kiss earlier, was real. It was an act because you caught the wrong kind of attention. Suddenly, you want to be anywhere but here. You take a step away but Rhett’s quick to face you, his hand shooting out to grasp your elbow.

You lean in to be heard over the din of the bar. “I need to use the restroom but Perry said he can come with me,” you lie, looking over your shoulder at his brother. 

“I can come,” Rhett tells you, setting his beer down. 

You wave him off. “Catch up with your friends.”

When you realize Rhett doesn’t turn around immediately you’re forced to actually ask Perry. He agrees and finishes off his beer, following after you a little unsteady. You take your time in the bathroom, splashing water on your face and staring at your reflection. It’s quiet here but your mind is buzzing. You close your eyes and sigh. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, lost in thought but eventually a toilet flushes and you stand straight. You were being selfish, Rhett deserved to celebrate tonight without worrying over you. 

With a deep breath you head back into the bar, searching for Perry. When you left he was leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone. Now he’s nowhere to be found. You only make it a few steps before someone’s hand closes around your wrist and tugs you back. You spin around, half expecting to find Rhett but it’s not him. 

Green eyes meet yours. 

“Hi baby,” Jimmy says, smiling. 

[melancholy-valley]

hiii, this has been stuck on my head for days so i just had to write it.

word count: 1.7k words

pairing: prohero!iida x afab!reader

cw: sorry this is a lot of just smut.. no real plot

not proofread, sorrryyyy :’)

ProHero!Iida who was never one for intimacy. He was always too busy with work and running his firm, never having time to look into relationships aside from the practicality that they could bring; double incomes, continuing bloodlines. They weren’t his thing.

ProHero!Iida who’s attention was captured by you, the newest hire at the firm. Something about the way you carried yourself was so captivating to the young hero.

ProHero!Iida who found himself sneaking unnoticed glances at you when he could. Making excuses to talk to you when in the office. He figured he would wait for you to take initiative, show some interest. After all, relationships weren’t his thing.

ProHero!Iida who noticed his glances getting returned, met with a smile from your pink glossed lips. Starting more idle conversations, too distracted by the sweet notes of your perfume to speak of anything notable.

ProHero!Iida who slowly works up the courage to ask you to drinks one night, having much more of a fun and special night than he could have ever expected. The mood between the two of you at work had uplifted, being much more light for the two of you.

Drinks now becoming a common meeting place for the both of you after work or on the weekends. Iida, after many pep talks in the mirror, had now begun to muster up the courage to ask you to something more formal, more personal.

“[Name]! Good thing I caught you.” Iida spoke, catching you as you were headed toward the door. “Hm?”

“Apologies, but would you..like to go to dinner with me tonight?” He trembled just a bit.

He cut the silence that followed, thinking he may have gone too far.

“Well, I understand you had a long day actually- I’m sorry for asking so soon, it must be-”

“I would love to!” You interrupted. “That sounds very fun Iida, what time works?”

He smiled, a newfound passion filling him.

ProHero!Iida who couldn’t deny the feelings he had for you anymore, especially after your dinner. Acting like an excited teen boy, letting his desires and thoughts of you consume him deep into the night, later than he would ever think of staying up. Pants and whines filled the hero’s dark room as he palmed his length through his boxers. He felt so..dirty touching himself to his dear colleague. At the same time, he couldn’t help himself. You were the first person he had felt this way about. A heavy sigh left his parted lips as he finished into a nearby towel, still thinking about you.

ProHero!Iida who, now more than ever, wanted to be around you. You had gone on multiple dates with the broad hero, your feelings growing stronger day by day, as were his. One night though, when the two of you were getting ready to leave the restaurant Iida you had just eaten at, he invited you over.

“[Name].. There is something I have been meaning to ask you. If you are comfortable with it, would you accompany me back to my house?” He avoided eye contact and rubbed his arm nervously, expecting rejection.

You were flushed, not knowing what to expect. With how you felt about him, there was no way you could say no. So, you smiled and accepted.

ProHero!Iida who led you into his home, making sure to offer any comfort he could. Drink? Blanket? Was the light too bright? Too dark? You sat down on a couch in the main room, him following next to you.

“[Name], truth be told, I don’t know exactly how to say this.” he started, “I..when I wake up in the morning I think of you. I think of you until I walk into the firm and see you smiling, and the second you’re out of sight I cannot help but let my thoughts continue. You are so dear to me, and I’m not sure I have ever felt like this for anyone. You consume my very being, and I brought you here to tell you that I, I have feelings for you. Feelings that are too strong to hide anymore.”

You couldn’t hide your smile, feeling the same exact way as him. Not to mention how sweet and personal his confession was.

“Tenya,” You paused, searching for the right words to say, “you have no idea what those words mean to me. I would be lying if I said I had no feelings for you, and it makes me so happy to hear that you feel the same.”

ProHero!Iida who couldn’t believe the words that escaped your mouth. His breath hitched, and he found himself scooting closer to you on the couch. The two of you were now painfully close, the room filled with the slow breathing coming from you. Then he asked.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

And all at once he cupped your face and met your lips with his. It started off slow, an innocent deep peck. The kiss deepened and his hands moved from your face, snaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

He pulled away. “[Name].. please,” he spoke, keeping eye contact. “I need you. Let me have you, please.” his voice was now filled with desperation. He made his way to your lips again, then your cheeks, feathering slow kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

“Tenya..” you breathed.

“Do you want me to stop?” He pulled back.

“No, keep going..please.” You whined. You knew how pathetic it sounded, but you couldn’t help the growing heat in your lower belly. You needed to feel relief.

ProHero!Iida who leads the two of you to the bedroom, laying you down. Who takes his time removing each layer of clothing, leaving small kisses in between. The sight of you under him, red and covered by nothing more than a sheer bra and matching panties.

He noticed your attempt to rub your thighs together, trying to relieve the growing pressure.

He smiled, “Let me help you.” He searched for permission in your eyes, only proceeding when you nodded yes.

He wasted no time, dipping his hand into your panties, fingers teasing at your slit. “You’re so wet [Name]..” He rubbed your slick around, finally taking one of his fingers and dipping it inside of you, curling it ever so slightly.

“F-fuck Tenya..” you cursed, embarrassed that all it took to get you hot and bothered was a single finger. He brought his other hand under your bra, prodding at the hardening bud. The combination of pleasure surging through your nerves was almost too much to handle. You already felt yourself nearing your finish. You couldn’t help but whimper under him.

He smiled, knowing he had to be doing something right, and slid another digit in. Watching your face contort as you came undone from just two of his fingers inside you. You grinded your hips down on his hand, needing that final push before you could finish. Your orgasm soon came crashing down on you.

“Oh I’m-!”

“Goooood, that’s good. Ride it out.”

He watched your body intently, noticing how your back curved as your orgasm surged through you.

Your moans were replaced with heavy breathing as he pulled his fingers out and stood up, beginning to undress. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him when he got down to just his boxers, tenting as his erection pressed almost painfully against the fabric.

And he was…big.

You too stood up and made your way over to him, first planting a kiss on his lips. Him leaning down, wrapping his muscular arms around your bare waist. Your hand travelled down, touching his erection through his boxers.

ProHero!Iida who watched your face as you pulled down his boxers, watching his throbbing cock spring up and slap his abdomen. He hissed as air hit his dick.

ProHero!Iida who wasted no time helping you remove your bra and panties, the two of you now completely bare.

You laid down, he followed, now laying next to you. “[Name].. if you don’t mind, could you follow my lead for a moment?” He asked shyly, “Of course. I trust you.”

He rolled you over on your side, his cock now pressing behind you, resting on your back.

“I’m going to enter myself now.. if you need me to stop please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

His arms locked you in place as he wrapped them around your waist tightly. Ever so slowly he put his tip in your warm entrance, moaning at the new sensation.

ProHero!Iida who was now buried deep inside you, relishing in the shape of your walls and and how perfectly they housed him. He dreamt of you, of this very experience, but you far exceeded any expectations.

ProHero!Iida who thrusted inside of you, quickening his pace gradually. Replacing the lewd wet slapping sounds with small words of praise, the position you were in making it easy for him to whisper and nibble on your ear.

ProHero!Iida who wished he could listen to nothing more but your moans and whines, see nothing more than your smaller frame unraveling with his touches.

“You’re doing so good, take it just like that..”

ProHero!Iida who makes sure you finish on his cock before he even thinks about cumming. The sweetest sounds fill his room, his ears, he wants right now to please you more than anything.

As you cum, he continues a steady pace, riding you through it. “Mhm, that’s it.” he grunts, pulling his cock out and pumping it a few times before finishing on your ass.

ProHero!Iida who rushes to draw you a bath and clean you up, preparing you a set of sleeping clothes. He bathes you, apologizing if he went overboard and still showering you with praise.

“You did so good, such a good girl for me.”

ProHero!Iida who lays down next to you, watching you until he’s sure you’re asleep. He feels he can now rest knowing you’re okay. He kisses your forehead once before nuzzling into you and falling asleep too

[fanaticsnail]

Hello Snail! Hope you’re doing well 🫶 I’ve been a fan of your writing for awhile, and had a little au idea pop into my head that I thought you would enjoy :)

Shapeshifter!Mihawk who wants to get closer to Reader, yet can see that they are intimidated by him. One day, while flying about the island to keep an eye on things, Mihawk is injured in bird form and crashes into a bush. Reader witnesses this and goes to rescue the “poor birdie,” not realizing this hawk is really Lord Dracule himself.

Shenanigans ensue, including:

- attempting to feed him seeds or worms

- miHawk bringing flowers to the windowsill or little trinkets and jewelry he “finds” (he’s sweating in the treasury to find something you would like)

- helping preen his feathers

- ranting to your new bird friend about the scary, attractive warlord who seems to just stare from a distance (Mihawk sees this as a green light to court you)

- “wow those eyes are SO familiar..”

- protective bird following you around/on your shoulder (he pecked someone who was flirting with you)

Keep taking care of yourself! And have a lovely rest of your day ✨

- bird brained anon 🪶

Oh my gosh, I need this. I need this so bad. I can see him being such a beautiful little raven or obviously a hawk. First thought: Diaval from Maleficent. But it's Mihawk, and he can switch at will.

Allow me the courtesy to write you an epilogue to your thoughts, I have been thinking about this for about 20 minutes and I needed to get it out. I'm not sure of the word count, it's just a little thing. Also, forgive the dodgy Photoshop. Raven was a stock photo edited on the Polish app on my phone and superimposed in front of Yoru from OPLA and I added some flowers to it.

Pretty Bird

Masterlist Here

Themes: fairytale creature au, avarial!Mihawk x reader, shapeshifter!Mihawk x reader.

Little thought: If he's injured in his bird-like form, what if he can't switch back for a while? What if he's forced to remain nestled in the roofing of your country cottage until you manage to hear his hiss-like, pained squawks.

The bird is angry. He doesn't want to accept aid, but at the offer of a small piece of stewed meats, and drink by the warmth of your kitchen fire, who was he go resist such comfort? You name him: "pretty bird," and coo affectionately as you look over his feathers and insure there is no ache in his broken, hollowed bones.

Is he frightened? If he is, he surely cannot say. He is just a bird, after all. You bring him offerings of a wooden crate used to carry your homemade vintage of brandy-wine you produced from your country garden, and he accepts it immediately as his personal resting nook.

When your back is turned while you're washing up, you could've sworn you witnessed him dip his onyx beak into the goblet of brandy on your countertop. There was something in the way his golden eyes rolled in his head at the flavor that almost seemed human. You offer him a small thimbleful of the brandy, and he seems to bob his head and shake his tail in gratitude.

You hum to him, and he echoes the tune in a pleasant, deep warble back at you, coaxing a giggle from your throat. You offer him chin scratches as a reward for allowing you to check over his wounds, and his entire body leans into the gentle touch.

As his wounds seem to heal, you're almost remorseful at the prospect of never seeing this beautiful bird again. Such creatures are not meant for captivity, and you ensure to tell him as such as you unwind his bandage and remove his splint.

The last night you spend in the company of your pretty bird, you offer him an anecdote of your childhood: wandering the halls in the the high keep gallery on Kuraigana mountain when the former lord reigned. You longed to return, but you were not certain of the new lord's temperament.

You were unsure of what happened since the old man's natural passing, just as you were unsure of the Draculean man who now ruled thereafter. Was he kind and courteous as the ruler before him, or was he simply a man who now reigned where a kind man once homed: you were certainly too shy to ever approach him to ask.

All you could do is enjoy the splendor of your cottage, trading in handmade crafts with the former staff of high keep Kuraigana when the new lord retired them. They were elderly, and you were grateful of the Draculean man's kindness.

As you slipped into peaceful slumber by your open fire beside the crate, enjoying the warmth while laying on your sheepskin tapestry, the soft bob of talons was barely audible beside your slumbering body. Cloudy vapors of scentless, black smoke shrouded the bird's form and in its place was a creature native to the land, an angelic figure from the fables of old.

The winged man crouched beside you, cocking his head inquisitively to the side as he studied your features in his natural form. His amber eyes held curiosity and gratitude in its honey-like hue as he whispered gently beneath his breath a soft repetition of your name. Now that his tongue could claim your title, he was going to praise your kindness by rolling it over his palate at every moment he spent thinking of you.

"I will not forget your eagerness to aid me when my body was broken," he gently hovered his human like hands over your face, his taloned claws desiring to give you a gentle caress, but his thoughts of your comfort and consent to his touch pulls his urges from his mind. "I was just a bird to you, and you homed and treated me with not a semblance of payment in return."

The soft shudder of his onyx wings was silent, as if testing to see if they had healed before he slowly crept from your door and flew back to his castle in the dark of the night.

When you awoke, you heard a soft rap at your door and a slot of a letter beneath the iron frame of your letter slip. You first gazed to the brandy-wine crate, sighing off your soft sorrow at your pretty bird slipping away without saying goodbye.

Rising to your feet before stooping to collect the letter from the floor, you notice the wax seal was embroidered with the stamped letter "D" on its back. You cocked your head inquisitively to the side before using your blades letter opener to coax the waxy shell from the page. The letter was curt and brief, but the lettering was careful and almost loving.

"I would formally desire to extend an invitation to the premier reopening of the Kuraigana Gallery, by the bequest of Lord Dracule."

And who were you to refuse such an invitation from your new lord, regardless to how intimidating you found his reclusive nature? Donning your best formal garb, you make the lengthy trek towards the high keep with your nerves depicted by your heart jumping to your throat, and the swell of your tongue feeling heavy behind your teeth.

As you wander to the gray slate steps, you are blissfully ignorant of the amber gaze of your pretty bird watching over your every move with a soft curiosity in his eyes and a smile on his beak. He was so excited you accepted his invitation, and he was looking forward to showcasing his home and offering you sanctuary within his walls, just as you did to him when he was but a humble raven.

He was smitten, and he could hardly believe he had fallen prey to expressing adoration of a mortal being as yourself. One thing he was certain of was the fact he was to begin his romantic pursuit of you immediately, intensely and passionately. He could only hope you would not shy away from his winged form, and instead receive his affections with your heart and mind open to it.

[coloursflyaway]

I And Love And You

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.200

Read on AO3

“Well, so, since I think you’re the best person in existence, the thought that you love me, that’s pretty special”, Charles tries to explain. “And that makes me feel pretty special. That you could love me.” Edwin stays silent for a while, but he doesn’t look away, seemingly figuring something out, making a decision, or a third thing somewhere in between. “That makes sense”, he eventually says, speaking slowly, almost like he is still thinking about it. “In that case, I shall endeavour to tell you more often.”

Edwin tells Charles he loves him again and again, until Charles can say it back.

The first time Edwin tells him he loves him is in 1993 when they are on a case and Charles has been stuck with reading one of the old texts they have at the office for so long that the unfamiliar letters are blurring before his eyes. He didn’t even realise that Edwin noticed he was struggling, but then there’s a soft voice next to his shoulder and a hand snatching the book from the desk in front of him.

“I’ll take care of this one, Charles”, he says, and when Charles turns around, Edwin already has his nose buried in the text, looking a lot less confused by it than Charles was feeling. “I love you”, Charles tells him without thinking, because it’s true every day, but he loves Edwin a little more just now.

And Edwin looks up from the book for a moment, eyebrows raised in surprise, but then his expression softens, almost starts to glow. “I love you, too”, Edwin says, and Charles basks in it for the rest of the night.

The sixty-third time Edwin tells him he loves him is on the steps to Hell, only that it’s different now, means more and means the same simultaneously, and Charles says it back and means it and gets Edwin out of Hell, and truly, that is the only thing that matters.

The sixty-fourth time is on the roof of their building, a few weeks later, when they are looking out over the city. Crystal is with her parents, trying to build some kind of relationship from scratch, so it’s just them, and Charles likes it that way, has missed it, even. As brilliant as Crystal is, in the end this is what his existence comes down to, Edwin and him.

“Do you wish I hadn’t told you?”, Edwin asks, apropos of nothing, into the almost-silence, the hum of cars and life beneath them. Maybe it should take Charles a few moments to figure out what Edwin means, but it really doesn’t; even if they haven’t talked about it yet, Edwin’s confession is never far from his mind. Neither is Hell, neither is how close he came to losing him.

“Nah”, Charles replies easily, looks over at the best friend he ever had, who is not looking back. “I’m glad you trusted me with it. And also, like. It’s quite flattering, to be honest.” He gives Edwin a grin, even if he cannot see it, but maybe Edwin can hear it in his voice, maybe he can sense it, maybe it can make this a little easier.

“Flattering?”, Edwin repeats, and while he says it to the city spread out in front of them, he turns to face Charles afterwards. There is something like hope in his face, and Charles wants to pull him against his chest and make sure Edwin knows he never has to hope to be loved again.

“Yeah, absolutely. You know I think the world of you, right?”

Edwin nods, and that at least is a relief; if he didn’t, Charles would have to reevaluate every choice he has made since meeting him. “Well, so, since I think you’re the best person in existence, the thought that you love me, that’s pretty special”, Charles tries to explain. “And that makes me feel pretty special. That you could love me.”

Edwin stays silent for a while, but he doesn’t look away, seemingly figuring something out, making a decision, or a third thing somewhere in between.

“That makes sense”, he eventually says, speaking slowly, almost like he is still thinking about it. “In that case, I shall endeavour to tell you more often. Because you are very special to me.”

He looks as serious as anything, and it warms something deep inside Charles’ chest, his mind. On impulse, he reaches out and curls his fingers around Edwin’s thin wrist and holds onto it.

“You’re pretty special to me too”, he tells Edwin just for good measure, shoots him a lopsided grin, and Edwin smiles back in that soft way of his that he keeps for Charles alone.

“I am glad to hear that”, he replies, and the muscles under Charles’ grip shift, but Edwin doesn’t pull his hand away. “And Charles?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They are on a case for the sixty-fifth time.

There is a painting that seems to suck ghosts into it if they get too close, trapping them into the canvas, and although they have been going through every and all books their library has to offer, nothing seems to help. So, instead of research they comb through the museum the painting has been hanging in, even if Crystal is the only one of them who can get near enough to actually inspect it.

She takes a picture of it with her tablet and takes it back to them, before she goes back to the painting, trying not to draw attention to herself as she figures out a way to touch the frame without tripping any alarms. At the same time, Charles and Edwin hunch over the tablet computer in a corner of the quiet museum, using clumsy, untrained fingers to go over the painting inch by inch.

It’s a feast of a sort, complete with lavish dishes and glass carafes full of dark red wine, the table set for another six people who have not yet arrived. The ghosts that have been consumed already are crowding the other seats, some looking delighted, some frightened, some just confused.

At the head of the table, a man is seated in a gilded chair, one that Charles does not know from the file they have of the victims, but who looks familiar anyway. He squints, zooms in on his face, and it takes a moment, but then something clicks.

“Mate, I think that’s the artist”, he tells Edwin, the rush of something that could solve the puzzle coming over him, “Do you think he painted himself into it and is somehow taking the others?”

It sounds slightly strange to his own ears when put like this, but Edwin’s eyes go wide, and Charles can see him connecting dots he has not yet noticed.

“He was dying when he painted this”, Edwin says, looking back at the screen, eyes flickering to take in all of it. “And scared of it by all accounts. If he found a spell… and he allowed his own soul to be sucked into it and then used it to trap others so he would not have to face his afterlife alone… oh, Charles, you are a genius!”

Without wasting a second, Edwin gets up, shouting for Crystal, but before he can run over to her, Edwin turns around once more. “I love you”, he tells Charles, and it’s sweet and it’s honest and Charles takes the words and tucks them deep down into the centre of his soul, and follows Edwin to solve the case.

The seventieth time Edwin tells him he loves him, Charles has just dropped a priceless artefact on the floor where it had splintered into a thousand pieces. It’s not important for their case, just something they picked up in Tromsö as payment for a quick missing person quest, and Charles hadn’t meant to drop it when pulling it out of his backpack; it had just happened.

Edwin looks at him, exasperated but too tired to argue, and says, “You should count yourself lucky that I love you.”

Maybe it’s not the cleverest response, but it’s the only one Charles can give. “I do. Every day.”

The seventy-first time is when they are back at the agency afterwards. Half an hour earlier Crystal had passed out on the sofa, mumbling something about not thinking she should be forced to walk back to her apartment when their sofa was just there, so Charles is sitting on the floor instead. He’s trying to figure out if he should move the jar of bees further up in the backpack where there is now an open spot when Edwin clears his throat behind the desk.

It’s nothing he does often, usually electing just to speak without preamble, so the sound makes Charles look up at him almost immediately.

“What’s up?”, he asks, and Edwin hesitates; another thing that isn’t like him at all.

“You do know that I don’t truly think you have to count yourself lucky that I love you, don’t you?” He asks the question in such a stilted, adorably Edwin way that Charles cannot help but smile at him, metaphorical heart overwhelmed with affection for this impossible, brilliant, beautiful boy.

“Of course I know that”, he replies and Edwin seems to relax immediately, like this truly was something weighing heavily on his mind. “I do, though. Every day.”

And he means it.

The seventy-third time Edwin tells him he loves him, Charles is on the floor, legs drawn up against his chest and his head resting against his knees. In death, there is no more exhaustion and yet Charles feels it, his limbs so heavy he cannot lift them, his eyes burning as if he had been crying for hours.

He hasn’t, he doesn’t think he deserves to.

If there is something Charles hates it is cases where they can’t do anything at all, where they try and they try and then, they try again, but the outcome has been fixed beforehand and in the end, the only thing they can do is watch someone being dragged to Hell. To a Hell that Charles knows now, one that haunts his thoughts in the hours in between, showing him Edwin covered in blood and so, so scared, a hundred of his bodies discarded and ripped to shreds in a corner.

Edwin, who sits down next to him, although Charles knows he doesn’t like sitting on the floor, who puts a hand on Charles’s shoulder and squeezes.

“Charles?”, he asks softly, and there is so much compassion, so much understanding in his voice that it almost makes the tears in Charles’ eyes spill over. “I love you.”

And it’s enough and it’s too much and there are tears running down his cheeks, but Edwin holds him when Charles flings himself into his arms, tucks him under his chin and keeps him safe, and he’ll be alright.

They’ll be alright in the end.

The seventy-fifth time is a few days later, when Charles is feeling almost like himself again. They are trying to decide on a new case, one that won’t leave Charles feeling like they have to carry the weight of the world on their backs, and Crystal decided to sit this one out no matter which case they picked, so it’s just them.

“To be honest, the only thing that matters to me is that it won’t have the potential to go horrifically wrong this time”, Charles explains as he sorts through their case files, and it feels a little like a confession. Edwin would never judge him for his response to their last case, he knows that, and yet it feels a little shameful, because he might have been in Hell for an afternoon, but not long enough to warrant any of this.

“I could not agree more”, Edwin concedes and puts away a few envelopes without opening them. “How about a simple shoe-leather case for now?”

“Yeah, that sounds good”, Charles says, and it feels like relief and it feels like shirking a duty he usually asks to fulfil. And maybe that feeling is audible in his voice, maybe Edwin just knows him so well, since his expression softens, and he picks out one of the case files at random, hands it to Charles.

“Let us try this one”, Edwin tells him, before putting a hand on his shoulder, like he put a hand on Charles’ knee back then on the floor. “And Charles? You did nothing wrong. I love you.”

And maybe it’s hard to believe in that moment, but Edwin looks at him with such certainty, and if there is anything Charles is good at, it’s trusting him. So he takes a deep breath, a luxury he sometimes indulges in, and nods.

“I love you, too”, he says, and that, as well, is something he can trust.

The seventy-eighth time Edwin tells him he loves him, is because of nothing in particular at all. It’s a Sunday morning, the sun shining through the windows and although Charles cannot feel its heat on his skin, he has still pulled the sofa over to luxuriate in the brightness.

“Charles?”, comes from the other side of the room, and Charles just hums to indicates that he has heard Edwin. “I love you.”

The words make him look up and over at Edwin, who is watching him from where he has been reorganising their library; he looks soft and happy in a mellow, relaxed kind of way. Charles wants to push back the strand of hair that has fallen into his face.

“Love you, too”, he says instead, chest aglow with the words, a spark hidden between that warmth, and settles back into the cushions. “You should come over and enjoy the sun with me.”

“We cannot feel the sun”, Edwin counters, but there is little actual objection in his voice.

“I know”, Charles says, and scoots over so Edwin would fit right next to him, if he wanted to do so. “But we can pretend.”

The seventy-ninth time they are on the very top of the London Eye for no reason at all, just that they haven’t had a case in a week and Charles had been itching to get outside and do something. Edwin had done his best to pretend to resist, but had lasted only a few minutes before letting Charles drag him through the walls.

A little part of Charles misses Crystal, because she would love the view, but Crystal is on a date. With a living man whose dead aunt they had as a client a month ago, and while Crystal had seemed nervous to tell him, Charles finds that he doesn’t care much about it.

Not because he doesn’t care about Crystal, not at all, but because their little fling had naturally fizzled out after he had brought Edwin back from Hell. They had never talked about it, but even that would have felt unnecessary; there was no way Charles would sneak off to kiss Crystal when Edwin was in love with him. Even if he still isn’t sure what that makes them, Charles knows he couldn’t continue anything with Crystal when he had promised Edwin that they would figure out the rest between them.

So, Crystal is on a date and Charles is here, looking out across the city next to Edwin, the murmur of the other passengers’ conversation easily drowned out by decades of practice.

“It looks so peaceful from up here, don’t you think?”, Charles asks, because before their little break, they had spent far too many days running from people with iron machetes and murderous intent.

Edwin nods his approval, and Charles reaches out and takes his hand, because he wants to feel that Edwin is beside him. Not in Hell, not in the grasp of a witch, not in any kind of danger. Just next to Charles, exactly where he belongs.

“I’m glad we’re getting a little break in between everything”, he continues and runs his thumb across Edwin’s knuckles. He might not be able to feel the soft skin there, the warmth of Edwin’s blood beneath it, but he still feels something, and that’s enough. “I feel like we deserve it.”

“That we do”, Edwin agrees, and for a moment, Charles can feel his fingers tightening. “Maybe, if it continues for a little longer, we could go out of town for a few days? We haven’t done that in a while. Perhaps to Florence, or Berlin. I remember you liking it there.”

“Great idea, that’d be aces”, Charles tells him and Edwin smiles out at the city; it’s good, and yet Charles wishes Edwin would smile at him instead. “We can start making plans once we’re back home.”

“Fantastic”, Edwin replies and then, “Also, Charles? I love you.”

And this time something flutters in Charles’ chest, delicate and lovely as a nightingale, and Charles intertwines their fingers, because he wants to feel Edwin a little closer, still. “I love you too.”

The eightieth time Edwin tells him he loves him is in Berlin, after Crystal has left to go to a rave. She had been delighted to go on a trip, and although it meant that Edwin and he would spend a few hours on a plane instead of just walking through a mirror, Charles is happy to have her there. And yet, when she had asked if he wanted to join her, he had turned her down without a second thought.

Chances is sure he would have enjoyed going dancing, even if he would be left without the booze and the drugs, but it’s not as compelling a thought as to spend a night wandering the city with Edwin at his side.

So here he is, walking from the Neptune fountain towards the Lustgarten, where Edwin wants to take a look at the Old Museum and their antiquities collection. They have been here before in the early 2000s and Charles remembers it better than expected, the broad streets and the relentless traffic and most of all the breeze in the air that feels like freedom and promise.

“I’m very glad we came here”, Edwin says softly; Charles can hear him even over the cars passing them every few moments. “We should do it more often, getting out of the city. Maybe we could go to Prague next, they have a fascinating cathedral. Or Vienna, I always wanted to visit the catacombs there.”

“Sure, sounds good”, Charles responds easily. He knows little about Vienna and even less about Prague, but if Edwin wants to go, he will gladly follow. “I’ll ask Crystal if she has a preference, then we could draw up a list of places to go. Maybe take the agency on a worldwide tour.”

He shoots Edwin a grin, who smiles back a little distractedly, before asking, “Speaking of Crystal, why didn’t you go with her tonight? Would the music not be to your tastes?”

“I don’t know much about the music, to be honest. It’s not like I’ve ever been to a rave before”, Charles replies, shrugging his shoulders. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“We spend all our time together.”

“I know”, Charles replies and bumps his shoulder into Edwin’s, just to feel the resistance there, to know Edwin is next to him. It warms something within his chest, not just his heart, but everything around it, too, makes him think of springtime and bluebells and Edwin’s smile. “I like it that way.”

There is no response for some time, but that is fine, because they are crossing the bridge to the Museum Island, and Charles is happy to watch the city around them, listen to its energy, its life. At some point, he slips his hand into Edwin’s and lets their fingers weave together; it’s nothing they do often, but still so easy.

“Charles?”, Edwin eventually says when they are almost at their destination. His voice sounds different, almost fragile, like something Charles would give his life to protect. “I love you.”

And there it is again, that little flutter, that warmth spreading further through his chest, because Edwin loves him, and Charles isn’t certain if there could be anything more precious than that knowledge.

“I know. I love you, too.”

The eighty-fourth time Edwin tells him he loves him, they are running. Not for their lives but for their continued existence, and it’s terrifying because Charles can almost taste the blackdarknothingness at the back of his throat and the thought that he might never see Edwin again is the most terrifying thing he has ever faced, like it is every single time this happens.

They round a corner and Charles reaches out to grasp Edwin’s hand in his, even if he knows it will slow them down, because he has to feel Edwin next to him at least one more time.

Edwin looks over at him and he looks as terrified as Charles feels, a twin look of despair on their faces, and for a moment, he squeezes Charles’ hand before letting go again.

“I love you”, he shouts at Charles through the noise the creature chasing them makes, and within the terror and the defiance and the desperation, there is a bright spark, a hint of warmth, because Edwin loves him and even if they blink out of existence, Edwin will have loved him and that makes any fate worth it.

“I love you, too”, Charles yells back, and means it more than anything he has ever said before in his life.

The eighty-fifth time is only minutes later, when Crystal has hit the creature with the potion they prepared this morning, followed it up with whatever she does with her powers now when she goes silent and wild and unstoppable. They are safe, and they are together, and Charles isn’t sure if one of them hugs the other first or if they just meet somewhere in the middle, a flurry of limbs grasping at each other and relieved laughter.

Charles’ head fits into the curve between Edwin’s shoulder and neck easily, Edwin’s chin digging into the flesh of his shoulder, and it’s bliss, being here. It’s bliss, being with Edwin.

“I love you”, Edwin mumbles into the crook of Charles’ neck, and Charles pulls him closer, wants to forget entirely where he ends and Edwin begins.

“I love you, too”, he replies and there are tears in his eyes, in his voice; his heart and chest are so full of it, it feels like they are spilling over, pumping sunshine and warmth and bluebells and Edwin’s smile through his limbs. “I love you so much. I love you the most.”

The hundred-seventeenth time Charles tells Edwin he loves him, they are back at the agency and it’s just a Thursday, the sky grey with clouds and a few non-urgent cases waiting for them on Edwin’s desk.

There is nothing special about it, not about the day, not about the time, not about them sitting together on the sofa in companionable silence. It’s a day that has happened a hundred times before and will happen a thousand more, but on this one, Charles looks over at Edwin on a whim, and it’s like he sees him for the first time, the thousandth time, the last time.

He is beautiful, like he has always been, ever since Charles had seen him back at the school for that very first time, bathed in the golden glow of a lamp that wouldn’t be enough to save him, and Charles loves him, has loved him, will love him for as long as he exists.

“Hey, Edwin”, he says softly, and watches Edwin look up, carefully put his finger down between the pages of his book before closing it. A hundred times he has seen it before, and yet it makes Charles smile now. “I love you.”

It takes a moment, but then Edwin smiles back at him, soft and sweet and like he is truly happy, and Charles moves before he can have a single thought.

Edwin’s lips are as soft, as plush as they look, and Charles cannot feel them, but he can feel them still, just like he can feel them parting in surprise, can feel the curve of Edwin’s jaw as he reaches out to grasp it. He kisses Edwin like he might have wanted to for years, kisses his love for him onto Edwin’s skin, licks and nips until Edwin’s lips part beneath his ministrations, and Charles can lick into his mouth and pretend to taste him.

The kiss lasts a moment and forever at the same time, and when Charles eventually pulls away, Edwin’s hair is slightly mussed from his fingers, his lips shining wet and his eyes still closed, only fluttering open slowly. He’s beautiful and he loves Charles and Charles loves him.

His hand is still cradling Edwin’s cheek, and for a second, Edwin nuzzles into it; Charles’ heart is a supernova, is collapsing into itself, is being born once more.

“You love me like this?”, Edwin asks, quiet and hopeful and lovely, and Charles nods before he can even finish the sentence.

“I love you in every way there is.”

Edwin’s eyes light up like stars, like sunlight, like the grey, clouded over sky on days that are special simply because they are together, and Charles wants to fall to his knees and pray to him, kiss his devotion onto Edwin’s palms and wrists and soles of his feet.

“I love you, too”, Edwin says, and Charles leans in and kisses his devotion onto his lips instead.

[actual-changeling]

any moment now

a season 5-ish ficlet that just kinda. spilled out of me while trying to write something else. pretty much just very emotional angsty hurt/comfort

content warnings for discussion of the cancer arc & mulder-typical suicidality

tagging @today-in-fic

———

Look, she didn't mean to keep it from him, and she never lied because he never asked, and maybe she would have if he had. Maybe she wouldn't have. Is it still a lie if the truth behind it is the same?

She's fine. She is truly, completely fine, except for the moments when she looks at him and sees a gun pressed to his temple. except for when she passes out on the plane and wakes up with her head on his shoulder, his arms around her, and she wants to fall out of the sky.

Immortality isn't not dying; it's finding a moment worth living in and then never leaving, and that is the crux of the problem, isn't it? The "never leaving". The "finding a moment worth dying for".

Worth dying in.

She knows how to die now, and it doesn't scare her anymore, but it scares him, and she is scared of his fear. So, sure, she is afraid of dying and of what will survive, and for how long. There is no moment without him, and she knows he won't hesitate, just like he didn't hesitate trapped in a hospital room. Crumbling on the floor of his childhood home.

Crying next to her in the middle of the night, kneeling and twisting his sorrow into a prayer, and God did not hear him, but she did.

Some days, she wants to leave behind their guns and run away. She wants to take his hand and make sure he holds hers, always, never a weapon. Never something that might kill him, but she might kill him too, and she cannot tell if she's the gun or the bullet or the finger pulling the trigger.

If she really wants to stop him from following her, knowing there is nothing left to find alone.

An hour until we land, and she closes her eyes again and doesn't move. Neither of them moves anymore, they're done dancing. His lips are in her hair, and every turbulence is a spark of hope. They're burning up or dreaming that they are, or maybe this is her kneeling next to him with no prayers left.

They could fall out of the sky, and he would still put himself between her and the world, no matter how futile. He always will, unless the world is inside of her and killing her on its way out. He tried to dig up the truth marking her for death, having found it just to wish he had never started searching at all, pleading with nothing to allow him to take her place.

Her not him, him not her, and they keep wrapping the same ribbon around their hands—standing in front of the desk that is their altar, the office turned sacred ground turned graveyard dirt.

Let me save you on my way to the grave, as if they aren't going to be buried in the same coffin, the same earth. Not a moment worth dying for, but a person, a life imagined and lived over and over and over. Maybe this is the time they got it right. Maybe they always have. Maybe that's their immortality, a shared life worth dying in.

Any moment now, she thinks, and he thinks, and she takes his hand, even though it's not the flying that scares her anymore.

It's the landing.

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 12 - I can't stand seeing you like this

Suguru looks exhausted. He says it’s just the summer heat, that it’s nothing to worry about, but Satoru doesn’t believe him. He has never seen Suguru look this bad.

Suguru likes to take care of himself; he regularly does his nails, he takes great care of his hair and he uses more skin products than Satoru cares to comprehend.

But not anymore, it seems. His nail polish is chipped, his hair is a dull, tangled mess and Satoru has never seen eyebags as deep as this before either.

Something is wrong with Suguru.

“What’s going on?” Satoru asks, barging into Suguru’s room where he spends most of his time these days and even the glare he receives for it doesn’t pack the same punch as before.

Satoru wants to shake Suguru, maybe he can put some life back into him like that, he thinks, but he keeps his hands to himself.

Suguru seems fragile; fragile enough that Satoru has to fear breaking him apart completely if he should touch him too roughly and Satoru can barely stomach that thought.

“Leave me alone,” Suguru mutters, even his voice lacklustre and Satoru sits down on the bed, his eyes never leaving Suguru.

“I won’t. Never,” he says, because Suguru should know that. There’s no way in hell that Satoru is going to simply let Suguru be, not with how he’s looking these days. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

It’s a demand more than a question or a plea and it seems to be the wrong approach because Satoru sees fury blaze in Suguru’s eyes, before it all dims down again.

At least Suguru is still somewhere in there, Satoru thinks, even as he feels sick to the stomach when the anger fizzles out again as soon as it appears in Suguru.

“You’re always like this,” Suguru says and Satoru thinks he should hiss those words, or yell them at him. Anything would be better than this flat, dead voice.

“Like what?”

“Pushy. Uncaring of those around you.”

Satoru’s mouth drops open at hearing that because not once in his life has he been uncaring of Suguru. Suguru is the sole exception to everything Satoru has ever done and the fact that Suguru doesn’t even seem to know that rubs Satoru the wrong way.

“Not of you, though,” he gives back and that makes Suguru scoff.

“Yeah, because I’m real special, huh,” he mutters and it doesn’t make sense. 

Next to Satoru, Suguru is the single most special person to ever exist and Satoru wonders how Suguru cannot see it.

“Suguru–” Satoru starts again, even though he doesn’t really know what he’s going to say next and it’s not as if Suguru is giving him a chance to figure it out either.

“What do you want, Satoru?” he asks and he sounds so tired, so done with everything and tears spring to Satoru’s eyes.

“I can’t stand seeing you like this,” he admits and it’s the wrong thing to say, Satoru knows it as soon as the words leave his mouth, because Suguru’s face twists.

“Then stop looking,” he tells him and it’s like a slap to the face.

Satoru only barely manages to not jerk back but he probably does a poor job of keeping the hurt from his face.

“What’s happened to you?” he whispers out, though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer anymore. Not if Suguru is being this mean to him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Suguru tiredly says and turns around, putting his back to Satoru and letting him know that this conversation is now effectively over.

Still, Satoru lingers for a moment, because this cannot be it, this cannot be how he loses Suguru but after three minutes of absolute silence he has to admit defeat.

If only for today. He will figure out what’s wrong with Suguru and he will find a way to help him. Satoru is not going to allow Suguru to vanish like this.

~ * ~ * ~

Satoru is back from his mission early and manages to catch Haibara before he leaves for his. 

“Gojo-senpai! I was just talking to Geto-senpai, asking what kind of souvenirs you’d like!”

“That’s nice of you,” Satoru distractedly says and peers around the corner, where Suguru is still slumped in his seat. “But you’re not going.”

“Huh?” Haibara asks and blinks his big eyes at Satoru.

“I’m taking your mission. Suguru will accompany me. You get a few days off, so don’t worry your head over it,” Satoru tells him, barely takes the time to look at him before he waves him off and marches over to Suguru to sit down next to him.

He will get Suguru to go with him; he did not have a twenty minute screaming match with Yaga only for Suguru to foil his plans by telling him no. There’s just no way.

“Suguru,” Satoru greets him and Suguru doesn’t even look at him. 

He continues to stare at the ground as if it could hold the meaning to life itself and Satoru leans against him.

“We’re going to take Haibara’s mission,” he tells him because it’s clear that Suguru is not going to say anything if Satoru doesn’t keep talking, if he doesn’t keep pushing.

“I’m tired,” Suguru finally whispers and Satoru almost wants to laugh, because he does have eyes. That Suguru is tired is something he has seen for a while now.

“I know. It’s why we’re taking this mission. I talked to Yaga.”

“About what?” Suguru demands to know and he’s on the defensive so fast that Satoru doesn’t even know what’s happening anymore. “I am not–”

“Stop,” Satoru interrupts him because in all honesty he doesn’t want to hear what Suguru has to say about himself. It’s most likely not going to be something good and Satoru doesn’t want to hear it. “I know you’re not,” he says, quieter this time. “It’s just–we’re due a break, right? After everything that’s happened, don’t you think we should be owed a few days off?”

After–everything, Yaga gave them just enough time to recuperate and to clean Satoru’s bloodstains off the stairs before they had to go back out there again.

It’s not right, and it needs to stop.

“So what are you saying?” Suguru asks, but he sounds friendlier already, which is already enough for Satoru.

“I’m saying that I talked to Yaga. He can’t give us official time off, but he can give us a four day long missions for a grade two curse. Haibara’s curse.”

“Four days for a grade two,” Suguru repeats and it’s finally enough to make him turn his head and look at Satoru. “And they’ll send the two of us.”

“We’ll be done in like ten minutes and then we get four days to relax. It’s the best Yaga could offer me, so we’re going to take it. Besides, it gives Haibara a few days off as well,” Satoru shrugs. “Does that sound good?”

Suguru is about to answer, Satoru can see it, when a new voice interrupts.

“Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru! What’s your type of girl!” 

Satoru gives the woman who just interrupted them a withering glare but she doesn’t cower.

“Certainly not you,” Satoru finally says when she just expectantly looks at them and Suguru huffs out a weary sigh.

“Satoru, be more polite,” he chides him, his voice barely audible, but it’s a step forward, Satoru is certain of that because lately Suguru hasn’t even bothered to correct Satoru’s behavior.

“Certainly not,” Satoru gives back and narrows his eyes at the woman. “Get lost.”

“Hey!”

“Satoru, you can’t just say that to her. That’s Yuki Tsukumo, a special grade sorcerer,” Suguru tells him and Satoru honestly couldn’t care less.

“So? I haven’t seen her take on any missions, so in my eyes, she’s just a bum.”

“Ouch,” Yuki mutters and Satoru thinks it serves her right.

“Satoru,” Suguru sighs out and he sounds so much like his normal self in that moment that Satoru thinks he’d insult the gods themselves if it would only bring him Suguru back.

“What? It’s true.”

“Fair, actually,” Yuki says and moves as if she wants to sit down next to Satoru, which is absolutely not happening. 

He’s having a conversation with Suguru here and she is not going to barge in on that.

“No. We’re not talking to you right now, get lost,” he says, rather rudely but he doesn’t care. Suguru takes precedence for Satoru, always.

“You’re rather rude,” Yuki muses as well, eying him up and down and Satoru refuses to drop his gaze first. 

They are on equal level, power-wise, and Satoru would guess that given the back-to-back missions they are getting lately, he and Suguru have way more combat experience than Yuki, who has been refusing missions for years now. He’s going to take his chances with her.

Yuki seems to come to the same realisation because she sighs.

“I see I’m not going to have much success here, today,” she relents and raises her hands. “I’ll drop by another time then.”

“Not too soon, though,” Satoru calls after her when she leaves and she gives him the finger over her shoulder, which makes him laugh.

When he looks over to Suguru, he sees that the corner of his mouth is curled up, too, and maybe for that alone he forgives Yuki for interrupting when she did. 

“You shouldn’t be this rude to your elders,” Suguru chides him once she’s out of sight and even though he frowns at Satoru, he’s happily going to take that over the vacant, tired look any day.

“Maybe she should have been more polite and not interrupted then,” Satoru gives back and leans back, pressing their legs together.

“Satoru, why are you trying so hard?” Suguru asks him, his voice quiet once more and even though it pains Satoru that Suguru even has to ask this, it’s definitely progress.

He has to believe that.

“Because you’re Suguru and I miss you. I have missed you. And I think it’s unfair.”

“What is?” Suguru wants to know and looks over to Satoru, who continues to stare at the ceiling.

“It’s unfair that we laughed together but you’re crying alone now. It’s not right.”

“Satoru,” Suguru whispers and his voice is all choked up and while Satoru would prefer that they didn’t have to have this talk at all, he’d rather take this than the apathy Suguru was showing him the last few days.

“I’m your friend, right? I’m your–” Satoru isn’t sure how to finish that suddenly, doesn’t know how to put into words what they are to each other, but he thinks he doesn’t have to when Suguru nods and takes his hand in his. “Right. So. I just think it’s really fucking unfair that you shared your joy and your anger and your laughter with me but now that things are hard and you’re clearly struggling you’re doing it all on your own. It’s not right. I’m right here. Why can’t you share that with me as well?”

“Because it’s ugly and wrong and–I’m broken,” Suguru gasps out and Satoru is not surprised to see tears roll down his face.

Doesn’t make it easier to take but it’s not a surprise.

“Maybe,” Satoru gives back because he still doesn’t know what’s wrong with Suguru and until he knows exactly what’s going through his mind he can’t reasonably refute that. “But if we are as close as you claim, if you feel like that about me, then you don’t get to only share the good parts with me. That’s not how this works. I deserve your bad parts as well.”

Suguru takes a few shuddering breaths and Satoru leans more firmly against him, letting him know that he’s there.

“I didn’t think you’d want those parts,” Suguru finally admits and Satoru feels so bad that he can’t even find his voice. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. You’re the strongest, you take everything in strife and I–am not like that.”

“Gods, I would hate to have someone like me around,” Satoru tries to joke, his own voice now choked up as well. “Suguru, I want all of you. Everything. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad or batshit crazy. I just want you.”

It’s enough to make Suguru sob and when he turns to bury himself in Satoru’s chest, he’s quick to hug him as tight as he can.

“Four days you said?” Suguru eventually asks and Satoru nods.

“Yeah. Four days.”

“Maybe I can–not talk about everything but a little bit. To start with,” Suguru quietly says and Satoru closes his eyes in relief.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he reassures Suguru. “As long as you remember that I am here and that I want to hear whatever you have to say.”

“Okay,” Suguru agrees. “Thank you.”

“For you, always,” Satoru gives back and buries his face in Suguru’s hair. 

He’s going to swipe everything from Suguru’s bathroom before they fly out and if he even gets Suguru to use one of the things, that’s going to be a huge win.

But now Satoru is optimistic about things again, because Suguru is still here and he doesn’t want to shoulder everything alone anymore. 

The rest will surely come.

[a-living-canvas]

High Tide Heartbeat

Strange and  unguarded

Whumpee woke up in a room. Roses scattered all around the floor with scented-candles neatly placed on every corner of the room, emanating a romantic ambience around them.

Whumper was standing in his suit, wearing a glove with a letter in his hands. They could smell his cheap cologne, and for some reason the smell made Whumpee feel dizzy all of a sudden. 

"Oh, mon amour."

Whumper said dramatically. He gazed at Whumpee with a soft and tender look. His eyes closed as he sniffed the rose between his fingers, sighing softly. "What a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear."

Whumpee raised an eyebrow, they couldn't feel the same when Whumper tied their wrists with the rose branch, piercing their soft skin from the thorns. Whumper noticed their pained expression and chuckled,

"Pardon me, my dear. The stinging feeling on your skin symbolises my aching feeling for your love. How heavy my heart felt, seeing you with another person other than me. That, my dear, hurt me oh so badly. You cannot fathom it, my sweet."

"...Sure, I can't…"

Whumper smiled softly at Whumpee. He got down on his left knee, untying Whumpee's wrists before taking one of their hands in his. As he leaned in closer, Whumper chuckled as he looked up at Whumpee.

"May I?" He asked gently. 

Whumpee blinked their eyes a few times. "Uh, go ahead…" Full of uncertainty. 

Whumper beaming up in joy as he planted a soft kiss on the back of Whumpee's hand. His lips lingering for a few seconds before he pulled away, resting his cheek against their knuckles.

"I love you, dear…" Whumper said lovingly.

"…Well, I can tell."

Whumper hummed, "I feel like a huge weight on my shoulders disappears when you come into my life." He lowered his voice into a whisper. "You make me feel closer to God."

"How…so?"

Whumper smiled at the question, shifting his position slightly. "I always pray to Him to bring us closer." Whumper cupped Whumpee's cheeks. "And now we are closer."

Okay, he's losing it.

Whumper pulled out a small box and held it out in front of Whumpee. He opened the lid, showing a pretty ring inside. With a deep breath, he uttered those words that he's been practising for months now.

"Would you like to marry me, Whumpee?"

He's totally losing it.

Say no, say no, say no

"Uhhhh.."

Whumper chuckled. Despite that, Whumpee could see a flash of disappointment crossed his features, maybe a bit of embarrassment as well. He must had been expecting an immediate 'yes' from Whumpee. 

Whumper rose to his feet, keeping the box back inside his pocket. Silence engulfed them for a moment and Whumpee got a feeling that Whumper tried to make them feel guilty, to think it over and accept him.

But they just met. And Whumpee didn't know what kind of person Whumper was under those performances.

"No." Whumper said firmly, leaving no room for arguments.

"No..?"

"No."

Whumpee looked away. They could see from the corner of their eye Whumper's irritated face. Whumper balled his fists, sighing in frustration. His voice was soothing despite the underlying anger dripping from it. 

"As you wish, my dear."

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes

[blushsani]

solicitude | c.s

⋆ choi san x gn reader ⋆ wc : 3k ⋆ genre : angst . fluff . ⋆ warnings : mention of injuries . mentions of financial issues . ⋆ details : happy ending . hurt & comfort . boxing au . making up (?) . ⋆ synopsis : in which san needs & learns to put himself first more. ⋆ notes : second post we cheer!! hi guys!! i rlly hope u enjoy this <3 / i do just want to quickly mention that i often feel like i word things strangely when i’m writing sometimes so i’m hoping no one can pick up on that through this 😭 if u can, i do apologise! bare with me guys just bare with me

the type of anger that leaves your heart somehow simultaneously light and heavy because of the rage is a type of anger you have never been good at handling.

the type of anger that leaves waves of shakes throughout your body from head to toe is a type of anger you have never been good at handling.

and no matter how hard you try, you just cannot force yourself to stop thinking about how san should know better. san does know better. to say san should’ve brought all this to an end by now is an understatement.

yet here he is, battered and bruised once again. you can’t help but wonder how much longer this is going to go on for. how much further san will let this go.

this is the type of anger you hate feeling and-

“y/n…y/n, hey…”

san’s lowly spoken voice catches your attention immediately, snatching you from your thoughts. and you pay him none of your attention. you don’t even spare him a single glance. the first time you had looked him straight in the eyes was exactly when you first stepped into his personal room backstage, and since then, you haven’t given him the satisfaction of even one look.

“baby pl—”

“don’t call me that.”

“no please don’t pu-”

“san stop. stop talking.” the sound of your words is like an icy blade, swiftly cutting through the air, and it’s more so the tone of your voice that makes san’s heart drop than it is your words. 

san doesn’t think this would be much of a relationship if he  hadn’t seen you on an unfortunate day when you’re packed full of irritation and pissed off, but between your almost two year relationship, he’s never been the target or cause of any anger this intense.

it goes without needing to be said that arguments and getting on each other’s nerves as a couple is warranted and happens but the anger san can feel from you is suffocating and the knowledge that you’re upset to this degree because of him is a strenuous weight he’s struggling to carry because he adores you and he can’t handle hurting you, let alone the thought of it.

there’s a delay in san noticing you grabbing your things and preparing to leave, too caught up with his thoughts and the nagging ache surrounding his jaw and the sharp pain in his ribcage that’s the current cause of his laboured breathing. 

and when it finally does click to him that you’re clearly planning to leave, he internally begins to panic. that panic rises from zero to hundred within a matter of seconds, growing increasingly external as he notes that there’s no longer any belongings left of yours for you to grab. no more denying the inevitable.

“i’ll make sure wooyoung calls me if anything…if anything happens. please just. rest.” you find yourself putting a weak yet clear emphasis on the word “rest”.

if there’s one thing san doesn’t do often enough, it’s resting. 

he eventually listens to his body and the signals it gives him, but not without a fight. not without overstepping that line just once.

and it pisses you off.

however, you have a good sense that san is too aware of the damage he’s caused tonight to dare cross that line again, and you can’t help but think to yourself that it’s about time.

as you turn to leave, ready to make a beeline for the door before that voice in the back of your head tells you to stay, san already proves himself faster.

“please stay. please. i want you here.”

it’s like you felt a punch to the gut as soon as the words left his mouth.

the tone of his voice leaves your knees ready to buckle, simultaneously leaving you fighting the feeling.

you put your weight mostly on your left leg as you turn around, looking at him with the right side of your body still facing the door.

your stance was throwing him a message of expectancy. if he truly wanted you to stay, now was his chance to make you want to stay too and his understanding of that was immediate.

so he carefully knocks his head in the direction of the empty space beside him, gesturing for you to sit, and you are almost fully convinced that you’d hear his heart shatter into thousands of pieces if you denied him right now.

you decide to accept him and take up that empty space instead with a deep breath.

as you take a seat on the black, somewhat stiff yet relatively comfortable couch, shifting to your comfortability, you remember how much you were reminded of a doctor’s office when you were first brought into san’s backstage room. 

but the room is sadly much more familiar to you now, way more than an office belonging to a doctor. and that truly gets under your skin because you–you and san were never supposed to get used to this room or this routine.

this routine where san gets in that ring weekly with the promise of much needed cash if he wins the match.

san feels your clothed shoulder brush against his bare one and immediately seeks your hand, gingerly grabbing it. truthfully, you don’t think there’s a life out there of you and san where you wouldn’t accept his piece of affection and place a hand of your own over his.

there’s a moment of silence that you know will soon be filled with san’s voice, so you patiently wait for him. you suppose he needs a moment to gather his thoughts, and you understand that.

“i don’t want to keep putting you through this y/n.” san starts off.

“so stop.”

“baby, we both know it’s not that easy.”

“stop for the both of us.”

“y/n–”

“let’s stop talking about me for a moment. let’s actually talk about you.” your tone is firm.

you turn your body around so that your front is facing him entirely, leg propped up.

“these past few moments, i’ve only–i only see you bruised and weak. there’s not a single inch of your body i haven’t seen bruised. i only see you hurt. how much of this are you physically able to take before you–what if your body just fails on you one day san?” 

“i can’t keep watching you like this. i can’t keep watching you hurting like this. and you don’t have to san, you don’t have to keep doing this, there’s other ways. it’s not like we’re out on the streets.”

the soft skin of your palm lightly touches against san’s cheek. you’re lifting his face up with a finger momentarily hooked under his chin so that he can look you in the eyes. 

the second his eyes connect with yours, turning his body so that he can face you the same way you’re facing him, you can tell so many emotions and thoughts are going around in that pretty little heart and head of his.

he grabs your wrist ever so gently, holding onto you as he digs his cheek further into your palm, all while his gaze never faltering.

for the umpteenth time, you feel your belly swirl and flutter.

you stroke his cheek before continuing, “you know i wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to you. and that’s why you need to decide what you’re gonna do.”

you pull away from him. his gaze is dead set on you, eyes widened slightly. it’s the mix of your words and the abrupt lack of contact that he really…really doesn’t like.

he really doesn’t like where this seems to be going.

“if you can’t put yourself first right now, then we need to start thinking about what this means for us.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

san’s mind drifts back to how the past week has been.

it’s consisted of so many thoughts, questions, fears and a considerable amount of time to let the deep ache rooted in his muscles ease.

and it’s all brought him to your front door on a sunday afternoon, a sense of uncertainty surrounding him that he can’t seem to ignore. 

it was a late afternoon when he received your awaited phone call yesterday. he was too close to missing it, busy washing dishes in his kitchen and having to swiftly dry his hands and then run to his living room where he had left his phone.

he was the quickest you’ve ever seen him to spew apologies to you, and quite frankly, you were just as quick to reassure him through an auditory smile.

but as he stands, waiting for you to open the door, he returns to the feeling of doubt swirling around in his mind. 

he’s afraid. he’s afraid because he knows that he will always want you, but he isn’t entirely sure that you still want him. he isn’t entirely certain he’d choose himself either if he were you.

he’s been so stupid.

he finds it so stupid that he’s even in this situation, getting so wrapped into his own head. he finds it so stupid because he’s aware of how avoidable this was.

he loves you and the answer will always be you.

his answer will always be you.

so the next thing he knows, your apartment door is opening, presenting you. san sucks in a deep breath as he finds himself instantly locking eyes with you.

you’re pretty. 

he mentally notes how pretty you look. glowing, almost.

“hi.” you’re the first to speak, quick to take notice of how nervous san looks.

a very brief second goes by before he replies, “hi. hi–how have you been?”

“i’ve been okay,” you nod to yourself before continuing, “but how have you been? how do you feel? you been resting up okay?”

san’s heart slightly tugs at the genuine care you show him unconditionally.

“yeah–yeah, i’m okay. i’m, uh, i’m glad you’ve been okay too y/n.”

you give san a small smile. it’s knowing, and so is the smile he gives you in return.

one of the first things you came to love about san is how much his eyes can speak for him, and that’s why you can’t ignore how much he’s expressing to you just by looking into his eyes.

silence thickens over the pair of you. it’s somehow a synchronic mix of awkward and comfortable. unfamiliar but familiar.

it’s one of those moments where words don’t have to be exchanged for two people to know what the other is thinking. it’s such a knowing moment; he sees that just as much as you do.

“i remembered to–uh…grab some coffee on friday. it’s that brand you like. come in, i’ll make us some.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

you place san’s mug down on the coffee table first, followed up by your own white mug.

it’s just as you’re about to take a seat on the opposite armchair that you suddenly feel the familiarity of san grabbing your hand. your train of thought stops, and you raise your head to look at him, surprised at the sudden contact but most definitely accepting of it.

san pats the empty seat next to him on the loveseat, and maybe it’s silly how quick you were to comply. you can’t say you care very much though.

as you both adjust to face each other on the sofa, you slowly take more and more notice of how you and san haven’t stopped firmly holding hands. 

it makes you smile.

it makes a tiny but affirmative feeling of hope twitch through you.

you hear san take a deep breath and return your gaze back to him, ready to have this conversation.

things needs to be talked through and san’s just as aware as you of that.

you take notice of the way his gaze is somewhere distant behind you and rub his hand with your thumb. it seems to bring him back to you. his gaze hooks back onto you, giving you a slight sad smile before looking down and looking back up within a matter of a few seconds.

he seems like he doesn’t quite know where to start, but he does seem to eventually find his way.

“you’ve been more than patient with me. and i…i truly owe you an apology for being so patient to begin with.” you cock your head to the side ever so slightly, intently listening.

“i’ve probably thought more than i have throughout my whole life this week,” he laughs for a moment and there’s a small chuckle of your own, “and i kept thinking about how i’d feel if the roles were reversed. if it was you in those rings instead of me. if i had to watch  you keep getting hurt. how i’d feel if i came backstage with you and saw you covered with bruises. hurt. and…i know i wouldn’t be able to handle it y/n.”

your lips drew a thin line as you nodded. so much was going through your mind and you wanted to take deep care in putting all the scrambled pieces together. but for now, you’re just focusing on the man before you.

“i took time to think about me too. just…me. not only my well-being physically, but my well-being mentally as well. i took time to actually care for me. properly.”

it’s like you feel a spark of light shoot through you at his words. 

you’ve said it once and you’ll say it again, san truly just thinking about himself for once is something you don’t see enough of, and you’ve expressed to him before how important it is that he takes the time to do that. 

you remember his exact words when you had a conversation with him about it.

“i’m not used to it. i’m just…not. it doesn’t come easy to me.”

and you remember your exact words in response too.

“well i love you. and if you’ll let me, then i wanna help you get used to it.”

so hearing him say that’s something he finally put some attention on and tended to…

god it makes you happy. relief goes through you from head to toe and you exhale with a fond smile, needing somewhere to let the feeling out before it just explodes within you.

“oh san.” you find yourself deciding words wouldn’t feel like enough and swiftly lean forwards instead, capturing him in a tight hug.

 

it melts your heart how quick san is to return the hug just as tightly, finding his own little space in your neck.

you rub san’s nape, murmuring a loving “i’m proud of you san” and receiving a gentle squeeze in response.

he kisses your neck before pulling away.

“i’m choosing you. it will never ever be worth putting us both through this anymore. i’m so sorry it took this long. i’m so so so sorry. i will always be sorry for not showing you sooner than i choose and always will choose you.”

there’s so much sincerity dripping from his voice. it leaves your heart throbbing, partly with love and partly with ache. you don’t want this to be something san keeps beating himself up over. 

san is a man who never says anything he doesn’t truly mean, so you know this will be a moment he’ll think about even when the grey hairs start making an appearance (and hopefully you’ll still be there to remind him he was always forgiven).

you quickly find yourself overwhelmed by all your thoughts and feelings and before you can even think properly, you’re once again smothering yourself in san’s hold. 

your chin digs into san���s shoulder as you speak, “i forgive you san. thank you for being open with me.”

you continue as you pull away, hands gently gripped on san’s shoulders, “and thank you for putting yourself first. i’m proud of you. i know money is an issue right now. i’m here with you. we’re gonna get through it, yeah? that just isn’t the way we’re gonna do it. you were just–in pain all the time. ‘s not fair. you can’t keep putting yourself through that and i told you last week that i can’t keep watching you put yourself through that. i won’t.”

“i know, i know. i’m hearing you.” san gently nods, sincerity swimming in his eyes and full to the brim in his voice. he removes your hands from his shoulders, taking them into his own instead and pressing a wet kiss onto your knuckle.

“and,” you lightly cough, “...i’m sorry for how harsh i was last week. i was just–i was feeling a lot and i was scared and i felt so angry and…i am really sorry san.” your tone is just as regretful as you feel. although you know you were and are justified in your feelings, you don’t agree with how you spoke to san. that’s not a way you’ve ever spoken to him before and you don’t plan to ever make a habit of it.

“thank you. to be truthful with you love, if the roles were reversed, i would’ve been the exact same way you were. you had every right to feel what you were feeling.”

you warmly smile at the response, once again sinking into the realisation of how big the love you feel for him is. 

within seconds, you find yourself simultaneously sinking into his arms. and for the umpteenth time, he accepts you. he welcomes you in with arms wide open like he always does.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt so comfortable with someone.

but it’s later on when you’re laid beside him, tracing your fingertips along the bruises that required a little more time to fade than the others, the pair of you warming one another up with the soft holds you’ve had on each other the entire rest of the day that you realise just how comfortable you feel with him.

it’s almost laughable to you how just the previous week, you no longer knew what you and san would look like. and now, he’s in your arms, scattering kisses all over your face, erupting never ending giggles from you.

it’s the first night you’ve been able to drift to sleep with a content chest and mind.

knowing you get to wake up to his presence. knowing there will be a you and san tomorrow.

- yours sincerely, qei ౨ৎ

[izzabela]

I'm in pain thinking of hurting my pookie...

but if i must....

Seeking Peace [pt.2] - Bi Han, Tomas x fem!reader

in which you go back go bi han after his reflection and redemption

a/n: i think i'll make this an optional pt.2 for the people who liked how the first story ended. this will be fun to write for though- thanks for the request @livingdeadgirly !!!

ship[s]: tomas x reader, bi han x reader (mk1)

warnings: angst for sure, reader is incapable of conceiving, fluffy end, no (y/n) bs, AND ITS LONG

Ever since Bi Han's appearance at the Shirai Ryu compound, his confession, and his promise, you couldn't help but think about the years that passed, and everything that's changed between you, Bi Han, and Tomas.

As Bi Han had been reaching his absolution, you, Tomas, and Kuai Liang would pay visits to the temple-compound of the Lin Kuei. At first, you stayed away from him, not wanting to let your heart be broken again. But with every visit to his home, every little conversation, gift offering, or some other version of an olive branch, you found yourself opening up to him again.

You'd like to think this started after the sixth visit of Bi Han to the compound. Kuai Liang and Tomas were out on a mission, and Harumi was busy teaching the initiates about katana-wielding. It left you and Bi Han alone in a weird silence. In the entertainment room, green tea steams from intricate ceramic cups in front of you, and the rice cakes you offered remain untouched.

"You look well," Bi Han states, "How are you and my brother? I hear from Madame Bo you are hoping for heirs."

You sigh, playing with your fingers as you open up in rare vulnerability.

"If I am being honest, it hasn't been going well. We had gotten news from the doctor that my body is not capable of conceiving..."

It's quiet, but you feel good being able to talk about your problems. You felt bad for not being able to give Tomas a family of his own, even though he said it was alright. Regardless, it didn't stop the dark thoughts and depressive feelings that rose from your heart and mind. Beating and bogging you down for not being able to provide, not being able to do your part.

Tomas didn't blame you, not one bit. He knows that creating a child is a two person job, and it's the man who determines almost everything about the child. He even asked the doctors to have his sperm counted to see if it was enough to have a child. Surprisingly, Tomas was just fine, it was simply your body not bodying.

"You know Tomas does not blame you," Bi Han stated. "A man who blames his wife for something like this is no man, and Tomas would never do such a thing."

You nodded, agreeing and wiping a single tear that fell from your eye.

"I'm not sure why I'm crying," you laugh weakly, "You're the fourth person to tell me it's not my fault, yet I cannot believe it."

This was out of Bi Han's control. Motherhood, pre-conception, pregnancy, and post-pregnancy, was something he did not know in full depth. He wouldn't dare give you false hope, nor say the wrong thing, especially with a topic as heavy as this.

You rest your hands on the table, finally calming down from the sadness that gripped you for a bit. Bi Han takes this opportunity to hold your hand, resting it over yours and squeezing it tightly.

"Whatever you need darl- uh, my friend. I will listen, offer my presence, anything you need. You can lean on me."

============================

Another memory arose from the depths of your mind. This time, it was when you realized Tomas no longer had your heart.

A couple of months after you and Bi Han were left alone in the compound, you and Tomas decided to pay a visit to the Lin Kuei's temple-compound, which you could now travel freely to. In this particular visit, though, you saw Bi Han in a new light- and there was no way in stopping how brightly it shone in your heart.

You and Tomas were greeted warmly by the assassins, as well as some of the medics and healers. A couple of familiar faces also show up, Madame Bo and Lord Liu Kang, who show you around the new and improved temple.

Various technological advances were achieves with Bi Han's ambition. A mixture of tradition and modernity grace yours and Tomas's gaze, watching how the Lin Kuei train in traditional weapons and firearms. You look up and see Bi Han, overlooking the courtyard where the initiates train.

His air felt... different when you saw him commanding his clan. He looked confident, happy-ish, and proud, the semblance of the man you married before back. At the same time, though, you felt sick. You, who had confidently stated he would never be able to win you back, felt your resolve crumble. It hurt you even more when you realized that, as much as Tomas loved you, you did not love him the same way.

You loved his comfort, not his character. You loved his help, not his heart.

Heartbreakingly, you loved his presence- not his whole self.

You remember the fight you and Tomas had the night after your visit.

"So, after all these years, I never really had you, did I?"

"Dear, please," you beg, "I didn't expect myself to be like this either!"

He sighed and sat at the corner of your shared beds, "I gave you my comfort, offered you my support, held you when you allowed it! Did it mean nothing to you?! Did any of this mean anything o you?!"

You shook your head, "Tomas, listen! You misunderstand me, my dear. Your love has given me a revival I never thought I could achieve. Your love and support made me whole again... but..."

He looked at you, finally understanding what you were about to say, "You never loved me, only my presence."

You sighed, "I didn't want to be alone, and selfishly took you as my own in fear of it. I only realize now of my feelings and actions."

You watched Tomas sit down with his hands burying his face, and his shoulders begin to shake. You couldn't blame him, though, because the woman he loved so much would be leaving.

"Will I truly be alone? Just like how mother and sister left... now you... will I ever be able to have someone by my side?"

You rushed to his side and hugged him, "I believe you will find someone who loves you for you. Someone who will value your entire self, and the love that you embody."

He took you in his arms and you both hugged for the last time, inhaling his scent, tracing your fingers over his hands, muscles, and everything else on him. Your foreheads touch and Tomas cups your cheek, you nuzzling into it and stare into his eyes.

"Please, dear, do not forget me," he pleaded, "Do not forget what I gave to you..."

"How could I?" you told him, "You lifted me up, and I only wish you find someone who will do the same."

You planted a kiss on his forehead, and slip the ring off your finger to hand to him. He accepted it and watched you leave in the night.

============================

When you appeared at the gates of the Lin Kuei base, an assassin on guard alerted Bi Han on your presence and state of being. You were shivering, one hand gripping onto a light fur pelt and the other holding onto a duffle bag. You stood by the fire post that was at the entrance, falling sleep due to the warmth.

You woke up in a bed, surrounded by warm comforters and heavy furs. Your clothes were all laid out, folded neatly, and you heard the door open, revealing Madame Bo. You smiled softly and waved to her, to which she reciprocated and came closer, food and water on a tray. You accepted it graciously, eating it as she watches you.

"You know, darling," she began, "There wasn't a day that went by without Bi Han thinking about you. He truly wanted you by his side when he got through his promises."

So he, too, didn't forget about me... you thought.

Bi Han entered your room in a rush, having slammed the door open. Madame Bo smirked playfully and walked out, waving her hand at you and passing Bi Han, patting his back on the way out.

"Are you, feeling alright?" he asks wearily, "You were out cold by the fire at the entrance. I took you in myself. I hope you didn't find it disturbing."

You shook your head, "I'm fine, dea- er, uh, Bi Han."

He took a deep breath, catching your slip up and poor recovery. He took the opportunity to come close, way past your personal bubble, and sit right next to you on the bed.

"You came back," he said exasperated, "I thought you said you-."

You remember putting a finger over his mouth, shushing him and using your other hand to hold his face. It's slightly cold, but you find it rather warm.

"Time healed my wounds a little quicker than predicted."

As you got comfortable with Bi Han again, you were afraid Tomas, Kuai Liang, Harumi, and the Shirai Ryu would paint a target over your back, but you were wrong to think so low of them. Tomas's heart was (and still is) bigger than that, more mature, and it was in the form of a letter he sent stating how he would always love you, even after all of this.

You remember the closing line of the letter as well- You taught me to love, and I'll never forget it.

============================

At this point, many years had passed since the betrayal, even more since you left Tomas and the Shirai Ryu. Amazingly, the relationship between the clans and brothers improved greatly. The clans worked together to protect Earthrealm, traded information and goods to each other frequently, and even fought in joint missions together.

Bi Han and his brother's healing also went swimmingly. Bi Han remained a little aloof with his brothers, unsure of how they still loved and trusted him after the pain he caused, but over time grew accustomed to their warmth. He was still stubborn, and a bit prideful, but he accepted his brother's criticisms, comments, and most importantly, love. Of course, Bi Han still being Bi Han, it would take eons for him to say "I love you" back to his brothers, but he would say other stuff in its place.

"I cherish you both", or "I understand", even a "thank you, brothers," was said with such softness and tenderness, it still shook the other boys. Even so, they took it with open arms.

Currently, you lay with Bi Han in your shared master room, sleeping peacefully in his arms. Wrapped in his embrace, the slight chill his body had felt warmer than any fire could provide. Your peaceful dreaming was interrupted by the wails of a child, crying in a wooden cradle directly across from the feet of the bed.

You get up to tend to the child, but Bi Han beats you to it, planting a kiss on your head and lulling you back to sleep.

You still couldn't believe you were able to conceive, finally having a child and starting a family you dreamed of since, well, forever. Nonetheless, a healthy baby girl. Seems the doctor back in Japan gave you poor results.

You hear Bi Han humming a children's song, rocking your daughter back and forth in order for you to be able to get more sleep. You watch with tired eyes as Bi Han lightly kisses her head, gently putting her back down in the crib.

You remember telling the news to Tomas and Kuai Liang, and them being so happy for you and Bi Han in creating a family. They visited you with gifts ranging from diapers, to swaddles, even unisex jammies for your baby girl. They respected your distance when you asked for a month before visitation, and as soon as it was up, they were at the door of the Lin Kuei's home, bringing even more gifts.

Tomas had also moved on, dating one of Harumi's friends. From both the letters and visitations, you saw how she loved him, and how he loved her- this time, with the full intention of giving everything to each other. Sometimes, you'd get letters from Kuai Liang with a couple of picture of Tomas and his new lover. The same smile he gave you was back in full force, beaming with pride in all of the pictures his lover was present.

Honestly, sleep was out the window for you, so you get up and join your husband's side and watch over your daughter together. He feels you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder as you wrap your arm around his side.

"Please rest, darling," he pleas, "I have this covered."

You yawn, "It's too late now. Besides, your family is coming over today and I want to get ready a little bit earlier."

Kuai Liang, Harumi, Tomas, and his lover would be coming over to see their niece and discuss clan-related issues. You both take the opportunity of your child's slumber to bathe and get dressed, getting ahead of the game before your daughter woke up.

Just as you finished putting your dress on, your daughter woke again with cries, to which you head back to the crib and take your daughter out, rocking and cooing at her to calm down. As you calm her down, you grab a baby toy and walk to the dining area, shaking the little toy to keep her distracted.

You're lost in the laughs of your baby to not see that Bi Han's entire family is at the table too, way earlier than scheduled. They're talking amongst themselves before turning to you, and Harumi immediately screeches for her niece.

"Oh, look at my darling little baby! Oh, how I've missed you," she praises and coos, gently touching your daughter's puffy cheeks. You laugh and hand Harumi your daughter, joining your husband's side. It seems Bi Han and Kuai Liang were a little too enraptured in their conversation, and you lock eyes with Tomas's, his gaze leaving his sister-in-law's.

He mouths to you, You look happy, my friend. Peaceful even.

You nod and smile, As do you, Tomas. As do you.

============================

guys i literally love Tomas, i can't believe i had to write him in pain.

thank you once again for the request @livingdeadgirly !!! i def took some creative liberties on this, but the initial request is there.

should i write about kuai liang next? or perhaps someone from the earthrealm players team (as johnny puts it)? i have a fic idea using either a laufey or zeph song, i just can't figure out which character

comment to give me some ideas, and i'll see yall in the next fic!

[acourtofthought]

Hello. What's your opinion on Elain saying "When I sleep, I can hear your heart beating through the stone. Can you hear mine?" to Lucien?

I've seen some E*riels say it's not about Lucien at all, and she must be thinking of a vision/Koschei. (I don't exactly remember what random theory they had for it, they have too many lol) Your view?

I personally thought it was to Lucien— but even he seemed uncertain — when he replied "No, Lady, I cannot." Elain replies back telling no one could, except Graysen and gets emotional. Can you give your opinion on this conversation? Thanks!

I've also seen this theory, that because Elain angled her head toward the city it meant she was not talking to Lucien but of someone else.

Except that makes absolutely no sense at all especially with what we know of Elain at the time.

Just a few pages before she interacted with Lucien we had this:

Still staring at the window, but she was out of her room.

Then:

I murmured, "Hello," and shut the doors behind me.

Elain didn't turn.

Then:

"What are you looking at?" I asked Elain, keeping my voice soft. Casual.

Her face was wan, her lips bloodless. But they moved - barely - as she said, "I can see so very far now. All the way to the sea."

Indeed, the sea beyond the Sidra was a distant sparkle. "It takes some getting used to."

"I can hear your heartbeat - if I listen carefully. I can hear her heartbeat too."

And then:

Elain's eyes at last slid to mine. The first time she'd done so.

Now there is a chance that the "her heartbeat" might be referring to Vassa but Elain was not looking at Feyre when she said "I can hear your heartbeat" and it's pretty certain that while in conversation with Feyre and referring to the heartbeat she's hearing as "your" we can infer that she is in fact talking about Feyre's heartbeat. It would be odd to be talking directly to someone (regardless of where you're looking) and refer to a non present party as "your".

So why then when Elain says to Lucien (because they had been going back and forth in a conversation) "When I sleep, I can hear your heart beating through the stone" would she be talking to someone who is not present regardless of her looking out the window when it was said.

Also, "When I sleep," she murmured, "I can hear your heart beating through the stone." She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. "Can you hear mine?"

Lucien and the reader might think she's initially asking if he can hear her actual heartbeat, the question seems literal enough. Feyre responded in a similar fashion, thinking on how after initially being turned fae all the sounds were overwhelming. But it's not until Luicen says no (I think he's responding in a literal fashion, that he can't actually hear her the sound of her heart beating through the stone walls of the HOW which nobody seems capable of doing) that we realize that's not the full extent of what she's asking. It seems like she's speaking to something deeper which actually meant, "can you hear what is inside my soul? Can you see who I am?" because she then follows it up with "No one ever does. No one ever looked - not really."

I don't even fault Lucien for not knowing what she meant because he just met her and even her sister didn't understand what Elain was saying at times, none of them did for a few weeks.

But regardless, I think the reason she then angled her head "as if the city view held some answers" is one of a few possibilities.

Either she's just staring off in the distance while talking as she did multiple times during this particular round of scenes.

Or it's meant to indicate that her powers or connection to Lucien allowed her to see to the heart of who he is (his soul, his dreams) and while recalling those memories her body performed an action we see her do at a later point. Once her powers are given a name and they begin asking her questions she cocks her head as if listening to some inner voice and squints as if the answer to a question required some inner clarification. It's clear that when she's tapping in to things there are motions that accompany it.

Or maybe, since she angles her head then asks if he can hear her "heart" she's giving us a clue that her dreams, her hopes, are somewhere out there for her to find.

Sarah told us that Elain is a quiet dreamer and that usually means the place one is currently at is not their deepest desires. Either Elain senses the same of Lucien, that his true dreams of who he wants to be lay beyond the life / situation he's currently in or she's thinking of her own.

Or maybe she sees all the guilt, sorrow, and loss within Lucien's heart and looks off into the distance, the expanse of the world, to indicate that she knows his heart was left far away centuries ago, that up until this point in his life he never really got it back and that he's been struggling as a result.

There are a lot of deeply poignant meanings that scene could have but leave it to anti's to water it down so that Elain, though speaking directly to Lucien before and after, randomly throws in a single line intended for someone not even in the room with them. Something she's never done, she's never once directed a question to someone who is not present while others are in the room with her. Something that is easy to disprove when you stop to consider that if she were not talking to Lucien then she would not have responded to him when he answered her question.

"When I sleep, I can hear your heart beating through the stone. Can you hear mine?"

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, "No lady. I cannot."

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. "No one ever does. No one ever looked - not really."

It's clear she was anticipating an answer from Lucien because she asked a question, he answered and she responded. That's how conversations work.

And again, I would expect Lucien to be a little clueless in this moment considering his guilt over Jesminda, realizing that for the first time there's another female who has him in the way Jesminda once did.

It took Rhys weeks / months to truly help pull Feyre out of her depression and even then he had to ask her "what do you want Feyre?". Anyone insulting Lucien for not fully understanding the context of Elain's question the very first time he ever met her and when she was extremely depressed should probably take a closer look in the mirror considering Az still doesn't seem to understand Elain all that well 2 years after knowing her.